It’s not been a good two weeks because of all the hysteria and nastiness in the media.  And it’s toxic, especially for my creativity.  After reading the book Your Happiness is Hacked (and highly recommended!), it was very eye opening to how we’re being manipulated by social media.

But the book also mentions that people spend their time on their SmartPhones and don’t get out in nature much any more.  So I thought a trip out to have some fun was in order.  Nature is one of the greatest things for refreshing me.

I found Occuquan Regional Park.  It’s a  park with boating ramps and some nice paths following along the Occuquan River.

This is a view of the river.   Though it looks like it’s about to storm, it never did.  I’m still waiting for some rain.  And it’s humid!

Some fall colors.  We’re still about a month off from all the trees turning, so these are some early birds.  I think these are oaks.

And a historical sighting.  This is called the Beehive Kiln.  Some of the history is here.

 

 

 

 

I woke up to rain this morning.  Since I grew up in Los Angeles where the sky is clear most of the time and rain an infrequent thing, it’s fun watching, or listening to the rain.

Especially at night, watching it spill over the street in the halos of the street lights.  I sat at the widow seat as we flew over thunderclouds and watched the lightning flash below (flying through thunderclouds…not so much).

Still I had business at hand, so it was off to the farmer’s market for fruit and vegetables.  It was raining enough that I had to be careful not to have water dumped down my back at the edges of the tents the vendors set up.

I’m old enough to remember what it was like to travel before everything changed so much.  Most of my travel when I was growing up was flying from Los Angeles to San Francisco.  I think I probably did a trip to San Luis Obispo a few times too.

We used PSA, the smiling airplane (had a big smile on the front of the plane).  PSA stood for Pacific Southwest Airlines, and it serviced California.  The uniforms for the flight attendants were pink and orange.

We got a paper ticket in a little envelope, well in advance of the flight.  I was always terrified that I was going to lose that ticket!

If I was traveling by myself, my parents waited with me at the gate until I boarded.

We boarded the planes by walking out on the tarmac and climbing up steep aluminum stairs as the engines roared and the wind whipped around us.  The cockpit would be open, the bright light streaming in from outside. I could see all the gauges—just wall to wall with them!

The seats were also pink and orange, made of cloth.  The cabin was quite roomy.  You can see some interior photos here—some pretty cool pictures.  The bathrooms—ah, I don’t think there’s much difference between then and today.

When I got off the plane at the other end, I exited out of the gate and there was another family member like my grandparents waiting for me.

Meanwhile, I was just in Wisconsin the last few days.  I flew over on American Airlines.  I started the day with an email telling me my first flight was going to be delayed so I would miss my connection.  I rebooked a new outbound flight and had to go to the airport immediately because I was now in the 2-hour window.

Race down to the airport in my car (which I so did not want to do; a taxi would have been much cheaper).  I find the gate on the board, go through security, and then find the gate.  A screen shows my flight.

Then it blinks and my flight is replaced with one from New York.

Wait!  What happened to my flight?  This did not bode well.

I went back to check the flight list. That still showed the old gate.  DCA is pretty small (it started life as a regional airport), so another passenger and I check the other gates.  This part of the terminal is packed with people, so we’re navigating around people and suitcases.  Everyone is talking, so we can’t even hear the speakers.

Ah ha!  We find the missing flight.

We’re barely there a minute when the flight blanks out and is replaced by another flight.

We start hunting for the flight again, and it’s back at the original gate again.  I can feel my eyes crossing.

The flight attendants are courteous.  But I feel like all the airline is treating me like I’m a dollar sign to them.  The airlines charge to put the bags in the hold, forcing the passengers to try to bring everything on the plane.  Since it’s a commuter plane, all the rollaway bags end up in the baggage hold anyway so the passengers aren’t charged.  Really, how smart is this anyway?  (I had a backpack since I know from past experience if I have anything even slightly bigger, I might not get it into the bins because everyone is bringing such big bags).

We’re herded onto the plane like cattle.  I’m only 5’4” and the seats are too small for me.  On one of the flights, I sit next to an overweight woman who spills over into my seat.  She’s sunburned bright red from her knees down.  On another flight, I end up at the window.  Since getting out of my seat would require the passenger next to me to actually get up, I don’t get up to use the bathroom before we land (therefore, I really have to go when we do).

Flying is just chaos!  What are your horror stories?

This was taken at the Winkler Botanical Preserve, a name I only remembered because I associated it with Henry Winkler from Happy Days!

It’s one of those places where you have to be local to know where it is, and even if you’re local you might not even know it’s there.  It’s not in any of the tour books–in fact, I drove by it for years and never knew it was there.  I discovered it when I picked up a book on waterfalls and the writer mentioned it.

Wait?  What?  There’s a waterfall down the street? (It was turned off when I went.)

The preserve is located at the end of an apartment parking lot.  Every single time I go there, I overshoot the left turn and have to come back down.  It’s really not obvious.

Anyway, check out more pictures here.

This is a photo from one of the settings in my mystery book.  I went to California for a few years back and visited Morro Bay, where this was taken.  That’s Morro Rock in the distance, though there’s a place where you can walk right up to it…just hard to get a picture of all it up close.

Guess what time of the year this is and see if you get it right.  Answer is a bit below.

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January. Yup.  That’s winter.

 

This was taken at the Dora Kelley Nature Park.  The stairs are eerie and beautiful when all the trees are blooming.  And it goes really quiet out here, except for the birds and the sound of the streams below.

The stairs are quite hard to manage.  They’re rather steep and not evenly spaced, so it takes a bit of work to get up and down them.  At the bottom is a stream, and several walking paths.

Very pretty this time of the year.