The Magic of Any Day

The weeks leading up to Christmas were supposed to be a vacation for Tuck and me. Job completed, I had planned to explore and enjoy Oregon for a couple of weeks.

But the grey skies…

And the roads…

I can’t say it was the weather. The temperature was delightful. But Portland isn’t super great with their road conditions. I had been warned (perhaps facetiously but it proved accurate), that Portland has only one snow plow.

So we kept close to home as the temperature dropped close to freezing, for my fear of ice. If you’ve ever crossed the bridges in Portland, you’ll understand my paralyzing fear when I envision it at 32 degrees.
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Tucker and I took a short walkabout close to home on a day that it was at least wasn’t raining.

But then, mid-way through, the skies opened up. Although I love Tuck’s new rain jacket because he keeps so much of his body dry (and because I love the high collar that reminds me a monk or priest), Tuck hates it.

Luckily it’s a quick on and off, much like the faucet in the sky, so he only had to wear it part of the way.

Not knowing if we’d make it to a spectacular Christmas hike, I opted that perhaps Tucker would like a Christmas day of touring pet shops. I needed to do some shopping for my friends' pups, and I think the only thing dogs enjoy more than unwrapping a new gift is being able to go on the adventure of acquiring said gift.

Tucker found one store that had a low area for dog food in which he fit neatly into to receive treats.

Another was actually a dog supply store, dog park, and bar! Unfortunately, I don’t give Tuck a kennel cough vaccine, so he couldn’t register to attend the dog park.

But he was allowed to shop and see the dogs playing inside the park area.

As for Christmas, I had grandiose plans, wanting to drive to the coast for a spectacular seaside hike. There were predictions of snow—at the beach! If I was delighted by a dusting of snow on ferns in the forest, my heart would explode from the beauty of snow falling on sand.

But I guess I hadn’t thoroughly thought through the implication of snow. Or rather, the state’s ability or lack thereof to clear said snow from the major roads.
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At first it seemed okay, and in fact was rather mystical.

I was enjoying our venture, knowing it was nowhere near freezing and the roads were pretty clear while we travelled through nature’s tunnels of white, and made-made tunnels a well.

But then we came upon a flashing sign, telling us our vehicle needed chains. I do not own chains. I have never needed chains in the twenty years of New England driving. I pondered if this was because we all just knew better than to drive before the plows got to the roads—and they always did within a a few hours, even salting and sanding before the snow hit the ground. Or if this was because the elevation was higher. California also requires chains in many of the mountain towns. I’ve never understood it.

But when we hit the elevation where the snow on the road was as deep as the snow on the curb… I understood.

They just don’t plow.

This was a major artery connecting the coast to the interior of the state. Yes, you did have to cross over a high peak of a mountain, but that’s it. I was pretty sure that if I had been able to traverse the ten miles at the high elevation, I’d come down off the mountain to clear roads.

But I was concerned that once over the top with more snow on the way, we wouldn’t get back. And there was literally nothing—no motels, no hotels, no anything—between here and the beach towns.

So with heavy heart, I turned our trusty steed eastward, back to Portland.

​I had kept my rental house after finishing the job so I could spend Christmas in Portland, knowing being home would just be a lonely place where none of my friends would gather due to COVID anyway. At least here, there were mountains to climb and forests to explore.

So I was certainly disappointed.

We returned home, and rather than wait till evening, as is our usual holiday schedule, I let Tucker dive into his presents.

Because I don’t believe a tree should die simply because I want decorated plantlife indoors one day of the year and I don’t believe in all the energy and waste of a plastic tree, I place Tuck’s presents by whatever hearth we have wherever we may be.
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He doesn’t seem to mind.

Tuck enjoyed his new gifts as I took in the beautiful yard that was our home for our first venture to Portlandia.

And then, with Tucker's success of completely unraveling one toy and my rising anxiety that I needed to be somewhere other than here for this special day, I packed up and we headed out again--this time to nearby woods. The forest is my church, and I could not go without attending today, even if it wasn’t the parish I had planned on going to.

Because we were arriving to the forest later in the day, we ran into a few more people than I would have liked. For me church isn’t about human community, but about communing with Mother Nature one on one (or one-and-dog on one).

It was spitting rain again, so Tucker had to put on his monk-like robe (which I still contend looks really good and is mighty practical). He's getting used to it.

I admit I was disappointed with the way our Christmas was ending up. When you’re single (and I supposed even if you’re with someone, but more importantly when you’re single), you need to make your own traditions. You are what gives a moment magic. You are who decides your own happiness. I couldn’t control the weather or Oregon’s Department of Transportation. But I could choose a different perspective to find joy in this day.

And so I did.

Upon return, I did my favorite post-hike activity: take a nap with my loyal adventure partner. And as I lay there with Tucker asleep on my arm, I gazed upon his furry head and the beautiful mountain the artist had inlaid the headboard with.

I was with my boy in the mountains, in an area of the United States I had wanted to experience for nearly thirty years. My path had led me to a circumstance in which Tucker and I got to stay here for an entire season and then some, with autumn leaves,  crisp clear air, and the scent of chimney smoke on winter nights. We were here together, exploring, being, loving, and living.

I couldn’t ask for a greater gift this Christmas or any day of the year.
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May you all find joy in every moment, for the joy and magic is always there; you just need to find the right perspective to see it.