Beautiful Moments

"I say to the moment: "Stay now! You are so beautiful!" - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in the Zen Calendar (July 26, 2001).

Day 262. Peak Experience! A new follower, bringing the total to 22! Such a symmetrical number: two two's, two plus two is four, two times two is also four. My brain is so happy right now, it would light up a PET scan like the switchboard in Mayberry when Barney started the rumor that Andy was going to marry Miss Crump. Gassho, Number 22!!

I just returned from Jefferson, Texas. Uncanny that, after six hours in a minivan with my parents, I chose the above quote from my "favorites" pile. Yet it unquestionably fits. I never knew that thirty-seven hours could hold so many beautiful moments. After a scenic drive down the Indian Nation Turnpike, we stopped at the Dairy Queen in Powderly, Texas. Beautiful on three accounts: 1) there are no Dairy Queens close to my home, and I miss them dearly; 2) my banana split was a work of art; 3) my delightful British friends didn't bat an eye at my unbridled enthusiasm for stopping at a small town ice cream fast food establishment. With characteristic good humor and grace only the English exhibit, they demonstrated impressive expertise at ordering Blizzards. Gassho, Pam, Jim and Charlotte!

Exiting the DQ with soft-serve filled bellies and a decent sugar high, we proceeded south along rolling Texas two lane highways. We passed freshly harvested cotton fields where snow white tufts of the plants littered the dirt. As we traveled further east, blackjack oak blended with pine trees, and the British trio commented on how many Baptist churches occupied eastern Texas. We replied that there was no shortage of members of Baptist congregations in this part of the country. By mid-afternoon, we arrived at the McKay House Bed & Breakfast, built in 1851. I acknowledged that in Britain this was considered recent architecture, but in the U.S. it is pretty durn old. We were all delighted with the 16-foot ceilings, tasteful antiques and wall art, and the detail with which Hugh, our host, embellished our rooms. His graciousness is unprecedented. I would highly recommend his B&B.

After time to sort ourselves (I LOVE that custom!) we met in the garden for coffee and wine. That is, my parents drank coffee and we sipped wine. We accompanied it with Hugh's homemade lavender cheesecake, which we chased with homemade chocolate chip cookies. Talk about a rapid recovery from the road. It was warm in the garden, but sitting in the shade catching an occasional breeze felt like the perfect setting for English tea time during Indian Summer in eastern Texas. Charlotte occupied herself with Scout the kitten. They took to one another immediately, probably because of Charlotte's knack for tickling kitty bellies with plant stems. I don't recall what we talked about. I just remember a sense of complete and utter contentment and gratitude. Time stood still. Our pulses palpably slowed. I drew deep, cleansing breaths, and thoughts of my sitting practice briefly flickered through my mind. It has so prepared me for the bliss of these moments. These Beautiful Moments.

We considered remaining in the garden for, well, perhaps indefinitely, but Main Street Jefferson beckoned. Pam and Jim strolled through the neighborhood while the rest of us cruised to the cobblestones in the minivan (mom and dad were particularly appreciative of the fact that I could open their doors from the driver's seat). We wandered about the shops in the late afternoon sunshine, stopping at the General Store to get a taste of small town America fifty or so years ago. Naturally, my attention was riveted on the old fashioned candy peering temptingly from big wooden barrels. What is it about bite-sized Bit-O-Honeys and those pastel salt water taffies wrapped in wax paper that is so delightful? Gazing at that assortment of colorful confections from my childhood filled me with a happiness I cannot comprehend. Beautiful Moments.

We dined at the Bistro, and were literally given the best seat in the house -- a front table looking out on Main Street. The French doors were thrown wide open, so that potted ferns were the only thing between us and the sultry outside air. European, indeed. Jim and I dashed to the grocery store for wine, while I failed miserably at attempts to explain the bizarre alcohol rules in Texas (rivaled only by the weird rules in Oklahoma, including no wine in the grocery stores). Dinner was lovely. I don't know if I was more tickled by Jim chowing on American meat loaf, or Pam enjoying shepherd's pie - a traditionally English dish of which the Texas version bore no resemblance. We lingered over our wine with our usual easy conversation and effortless feeling of connection. These are my favorite people in the world. Beautiful moments.

Back to the garden to finish the wine and enjoy more chocolate chip cookie chasers (fortunately, Hugh bakes in big batches). The garden was charmingly decorated for Halloween, and the moon added her own touch by slowly rising - a brilliant, round, gold-orange autumn sphere - in the eastern sky. We admired it through the branches of the tall trees surrounding us. The white lights strung about the garden flickered playfully as we congratulated one another on our wonderful day. The air was still warm from daylong sunshine and moist with upcoming showers, enveloping us in a musky southern ambiance. The smell of my parents' coffee, damp leaves and home baked cookies wafted through our circle of wrought iron chairs. Beautiful moments.

Meditation under the gabled roof of a house more than 150 years old was mystical and gratifying. Charlotte and I talked until midnight, gazing at the tall ceiling in our upstairs boudoir and chuckling over the train whistles that sounded every 15 minutes. Hugh's gourmet Gentleman's breakfast greeted us in the morning. Our group of six was joined by five other house guests, all of us exclaiming over his exquisite presentation: colorful berry mixes of butter and molasses alternating with lovely pitchers of four kinds of juice marched down the center of the table. We dined in ladder style chairs draped with bright orange covers bearing jack-o-lantern faces. Delightful. As our meal ended, Hugh's wife Darla came into the dining room, politely inquiring if their four-year-old son, Atticus, could come in to hear " the people who sound like Thomas The Tank Engine." Pam, Jim and Charlotte laughingly obliged.

Next, something enchanting unfolded. Atticus bolted to his room and emerged with a Thomas The Tank Engine book. Pam invited him to bring it to her so they could read it together. Atticus perched on a chair by Pam's side, and she began the book in the lilting British accent in which it was intended to be read. It quickly became apparent that Pam, a mother of four, had extensive practice at reading children's books aloud. A hush fell over the dining room. Pam read on. Atticus listened, enthralled. Hugh came to kneel beside Atticus, listening to the story and watching his enraptured face. Darla quietly got her phone and recorded the spontaneous, splendid reading of Thomas.

I kept my eyes on Atticus' face. It lit up with animation and delight at this lyrical reading of his favorite story in its native form. All of us listened, spellbound, until the story ended. We applauded Pam as she closed the book, smiling serenely as if she read British books about talking trains to a table full of Americans every morning. Darla explained that Atticus had been obsessed with all things train from the time he was an infant. Hugh said he would post the reading on the B&B website. Look for it under Alley-McKay Bed and Breakfast in Jefferson, Texas. I am certain Pam has a future in narrating books for children if she desires. She has certainly found her first fan.

We filled our day with a foray down the pine-lined highway to Uncertain, Texas (are you certain you've been to Uncertain?) Stood on the banks of the bayou of Cypress Lake, marveling at the quiet and quizzically wondering about the "knees" of the knotted cypress roots lining the shore. Watched a woman catch two fish from a fancy bass boat not 30 feet from us. Caught a glimpse of their shimmering turquoise scales as she deftly tossed them into an ice chest. We learned about the "working girls" of the historic bayou honky tonks, who were required to display their license to "practice." Just like me when I ply my trade, except they probably made more (and didn't have to file insurance claims).

Agreeing that we were certain we had visited Uncertain, we returned to Jefferson for a boat tour of the bayou. We glided through the sticky, humid air as the sun melted away clouds, watching turtles sun themselves on branches sticking up from the shallow water. We learned about the steamers that used to chug up the bayou, bringing cotton and other sources of wealth to the (then) booming town of Jefferson. Heard about the hazards of picking berries for the Mayhaw jelly the town is known for. We also learned that John, our skipper and tour guide, was deathly afraid of snapping turtles. When he showed us pictures of the whoppers that inhabit his bayou, we understood. Fortunately we only spotted lesser sized, benevolent tortoises. No alligators in sight. Charlotte was relieved. Beautiful moments.

After lunch in the festively colored Glory Days, we parted for a final hour of visiting the shops of downtown Jefferson. Contributed mightily to the economic security of the town. Met at the General Store to embark upon our return trip. I was indulged with another stop at the Powderly Dairy Queen, where we again consumed copious quantities of the best soft serve on the planet. Stopped in Paris, Texas to take an embarrassing number of photos of the miniature Eiffel Tower with the bright red cowboy hat on top. Laughed and joked and kidded for the five-hour drive home. When I pulled into my parents' driveway, I was applauded for my role as trip organizer and Mistress of Minivan Maneuvering. Beautiful moments.

My heart overflows with love and gratitude during these treasured times with Jim, Pam and Charlotte. We create the most wondrous memories. Their presence in my life is a gift of unfathomable fortune. Our ease and comfort in each others' company contains the familiarity of family scented with the solace of perfect friendship. Life is more wondrous than I can grasp. My soul will forever contain the scene of Pam, sitting in her Pumpkin Chair, cheerily reading Thomas The Tank Engine to an enchanted four-year-old named Atticus. Beautiful moments. Magical to behold.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc