Nothing But Blue Skies

sameness can breed restlessness . . .

Sycamores along the Arroyo Seco River where I used to live . . . photo by Margie Willis

For eleven years, I lived in a cabin overlooking wilderness. I moved to that rickety hovel perched on a crumbling cliff because I had to have that view. Waking up to a wall of windows never failed to move me to gratitude for so much blue sky and terrain unblemished by human development.

Marine layer wafts over from the Big Sur side of these coastal mountains . . . photo by Margie Willis

California’s longest and most dramatic drought was socked in for all those years living out in the sticks. Were it not for the ocean fog, it might’ve been nothing but blue skies. I bemoaned the lack of weather and often missed seeing some atmospheric action in the sky.

My brand-new high-rise view in town offers endless sky . . . photo by Margie Willis

I’m a city dweller again and pleased to enjoy a different kind of view. First winter living here, Monterey Bay has been nonstop funneling a stream of gnarly weather my way. With so much sky at my disposal, I don’t notice the widespread human imprint, living in town.

Sunset over Monterey Bay in the distance . . . photo by Margie Willis

Being disabled and housebound, my expansive view is an essential lifeline. Looking out over openness transports me to so many inaccessible aspects of my previously active and busy life. I’m blessed to have a cornucopia of experiences so I can draw from my adventurous timeline.

Clouds float by to remind me of the fullness of my life . . . photo by Margie Willis

I don’t mind being stuck in my new elevated comfort level. After a lifetime of fibromyalgia pain with a neck injury wasting my painful legs, I’m not game to go gallivanting anymore. With society seemingly fixated on guns, hate, violence and division, I have little wish to venture there. I’m satisfied with my limited space as long as I have an expansive view.