Thin air, bacon or campfire smell, the wind whistling in the Aspen trees. It sounded like silver rain, anticipating itself. All the Kings Men lay open on my lap with my handwriting in the margins, as small and uniform as I could make it. What did it mean? I strained for any observation; nothing but the busy and unconcerned Aspen trees answered. Think, think! I would sometimes pinch my finger while rushing to put together an answer back then, as if the mild violence could expedite or lasso my intelligence. I couldn’t make heads or tails of the book — or anything that lay between its dust jacket flaps — while watching the cows and horses blur by the windows of the Jeep Wrangler my Dad had rented so that he could access the more remote fishing points in the area that summer, “to get away from it all,” he explained, which I understood to mean the daily FedExes and phone calls he received from his law firm in D.C. I was newly 14, had started to notice the boys working on the ranches, in the supermarkets, at the tackle shop in town; they interrupted my thoughts then, as I watched a tall stretch of muscle wearing jeans and a plaid shirt approach a skewbald from across the pine fence that separated his ranch from the dirt road my Dad’s Jeep was lurching up. I watched the cowboy turn to watch us and then disappear. My imagination ran away with me — some tangle of Garth Brooks lyrics, thunder, broad hands, a Hollywood version of myself. This distraction left a little empty space in which I found myself wandering around with the half-thought: What did All the King’s Men or The Great Gatsby or Of Mice and Men or any of my other summer reading requirements have to do with me? How were they important to my repertoire — at an all-girls school no less? These wonderings, the only ones that I remember occurring to me while reading my assignments that summer, felt silly, surface-level, soap bubble. I did not understand that I was growing into my own literacy, that it was normal to feel this way, asking questions that hovered above the protean page, aware of albeit frustrated by the multivalence or caliginousness of a word, a line, a plot point. Oh, I had a bad case of the fourteens. Painfully self-aware, painfully not-yet-anything-to-anyone.
And yet. Even as I navel-gazed; even as I stalked around town with my hands wrapped around myself, my shoulders curled inward, trying to make my small body even smaller; even as I chased great novels that seemed determined to elude me; even as I avoided eye contact with the handsome boy that drove the van that took hotel guests around the town and even as I noticed the way he drove with one hand capably resting on the wheel and pulled out a boyish grin for the turned-out, well-dressed women who would tuck five and ten dollar bills into the little plastic cup by his driver’s seat; even as my cheeks burned when he said hello in the narrow stone-lined walkway between our unit and the pool; even as I ate sour straws laying on the floor of the bedroom, imagining connections that had not transpired; even then —
I knew enough to look at the edgeless stretch of Colorado stars and feel something. I knew enough to stand on the bank of the Roaring Fork and let my mind empty itself into the water, into the mayfly hatch and the rainbow trout it attracted and, somewhere beyond my vision, the bears and coyotes that would be drawn to the water’s lip by their shimmering mirages of fin. I knew then, as I know now, that the unanswerable meets its match in the expanse of the natural world. The frenetic, the demanding, the worrying evaporate there, dust to dust, subsumed by something else, something great and mystical, something that operates according to rhythms and principles beyond my ken but certain.
Post-Scripts.
+You can listen to the Aspen trees in the wind — truly a deep, therapeutic sensory experience — here!
+Writing, fishing, and the Roaring Fork.
Shopping Break.
+In my haste to order the new gingham Luna pants (<< I think these sold out already!) from J. Crew’s latest drop, I neglected to mention a few other gems: this striped dress (!!! Staud vibes), this gingham top, this straw tote, these pull-on shorts!
+Magpies are loving this little wrap skirt. (They also released a super flattering dress in the same pattern.)
+A GREAT relaxed-fit sweatshirt to throw on over your fitness gear. I love the wide, unfinished hem and bracelet sleeves. Perfect in that racing green or white.
+While you’re there: love this breezy gingham dress! Looks like a vacation.
+Just such a fun sweater for summer — throw on over a striped (or gingham!) dress, t-shirt and jeans, white shorts, etc!
+Faherty is on fire right now: love this striped dress, this red floral (I feel like I’d transform into Dakota Johnson in this), and this white skirt! Wish I hadn’t missed out on these chic striped knit pants.
+Perfect striped tee in every color.
+Gorgeous gift enclosure tags.
+Getting so much wear out of my Jane Win clover necklace. I absolutely love it layered with other pieces. Perfect scale.
+Love the look of these multi-purpose beauty color sticks.
+Fresh summer socks. (Love these for hiking and these for kids!)
+Trending: this Jenni Kayne hat.
+I did order these Suzie Kondi terry pants — will report back with thoughts!
+A sweet gift for a First Communion.
+Julia Berolzheimer just released a fourth collection with jewelry maker Jennifer Behr! The tasseled pieces are so fab, and then these long beaded ones are so versatile. Similar vibes for less here.
This post may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links above, I may receive compensation.
