Mortal - We all are God's Children

Life After Peace Corps

In Virginia and DC, there are lots of young Spanish immigrants.  They are usually employed by the cleaning, construction and food service sectors.  Most of them are uneducated; speak very little English but they are pleasant, polite and hard working.  Some of the young workers still have the baby fat, rosy cheeks, innocent look and playful attitude.          

Every day, I go to McDonald for a cup of coffee.  (The only treat I can afford nowadays for being a Federal employee) The girl who greets me daily is a young shy Spanish immigrant.  At first she avoided eye contact with me, just took my order and said “thank you”, with a heavy Spanish accent and a bashful manner.  After a while, seeing me every day, she began to relax a little bit. One day, I took the initiative to break the ice, used my broken “Spanish” to say hello and made her laugh.   After that day, she became much friendlier, had the coffee ready for me as soon as I arrived.      

Yesterday, I went to McDonald again.  My young friend was helping another customer, an old African lady.  While I was waiting for my coffee, I overheard what the old lady said to her.

“Why didn’t you do as I said?”, “What is wrong with you?” “Do you know how to take order?”, “Do you understand English?”, “Go back to where you come from!”

My friend’s face was all red. Her eyes glued to the cash register with a blank stare.  She did not move, did not look at the old lady, did not say a word and did not attempt to defend herself.  The old lady went on and on with her complaints. 

Her insensitivity and rudeness toward the young girl brought back unpleasant memory of my past.  Years ago when I was still a foreign student, I was harassed by a young black girl in the NYC subway.  For no apparent reason, she approached me and hit me on the head, “Chin!” mocking me with her racial slurs.  For many years, that event haunted me and I lost my self-esteem.  It was when I finally graduated with honor, became a CPA and had a successful career that I finally realized that I was no less than they were.  But to this day, I still have a hard time understanding why “they” could be so unkind to “Others” when they are the ones complaining how badly they have been treated.   Maybe they are just a few bad apples, I surely hope so.

Next day, I saw my young friend again.  She seemed to forget what had happened to her yesterday, and gave me the brightest smile.   She is a hard worker and I picture her getting married, having babies and a lovely home in American.  I know she will make it, just like ME! 

It Is Not The Path We Choose

Life After Peace Corps

A man reaches a fork and does not know which path to follow,

“Where do you want to go?” a stranger tries to help

“I do not know” he says

“Then it does not matter which road you choose, does it?”   

One year ago today, I was in Azerbaijan. It is hard to believe that it has been nine months since I moved back to the US.  Unlike most of my Azeri 7 teammates, I already started a new life with a new job at a new place.  Most of the Azeri 7 are still trying to define their lives after Peace Corps; looking for a job, moving in and out of their parents’ home, being a “couch potato” or continuing to travel endlessly.  The most dispiriting reality is, some of them truly have no clue as what they are going to do next.

They are the one at the cross road, trying to pick a path, but whatever path they choose, it still lead them to nowhere.  The mistake is:  before we choose a path, we must have a goal.  Once we know where we are heading, take the right path and it will eventually lead us to our destinations.

While we are on the path, we will encounter obstacles, detours, roadblocks and sometimes rock falls.  I had been there, made countless detours when the path disappeared, got lost many times in darkness, fell down to a ditch, and suffered bruises by rock falls, but I never lost sight of my goal.  To be what I am today is not luck.

For the AZ8 who are coming home soon.  Take a moment to define your goal; then a path will appear. 

AZ 8, Welcome home!  

War, the Unpardonable Sin

Another devastating war scene of Syria was broadcasted on TV this morning.  An old man with tearing eyes stood in the midst of a crumbling wall, the place was once his home.  The erupted dust nearly swallowed him.  Ironically, behind him was a line of laundries still hanging, and fluttering in the dry desert wind.    

The sight saddens me.  Shouldn’t the old man be home surrounded by grandchildren and enjoying his retirement?  His country’s ancient culture demands that the old man should be well respected for his wisdom and old age.   Why didn’t his “king” honor that admirable tradition?  Why did the old man have to suffer? 

An antique poem written by a Chinese poet vividly depicted the sorrow of war:   

“Withered vines, aging pines and crying crows”

“A broken bridge, drying stream and desolate village”

“Ancient pass, blowing wind, and a stray war horse”

“A brokenheart ghost lost in the horizon”

War, since the dawn of human history has been employed as the quickest and easiest avenue to resolve conflicts; even it is the most destructive event to mankind.  War solved NOTHING!  It deepened problems;  Men suffered, lives were wasted, civilizations were destroyed, and every creature in the universe was attacked. 

Perhaps we should all refrain from praising soldiers and glorifying their bravery.  They are, after all, killers…..

My Life in Virigina

Wake up early in the morning and feel the chilliness in the air.  I cannot help but realize that the zenith of summer is slipping away.  Before long, it will be fall and the winter snow will soon be flying by my bedroom window. 

I love summer, in spite of the unbearable heat this year.   I enjoy wearing a sleeveless casual shirt with a pair of scandals or even bare foot, sauntering on grass, riverbank and seashore.  Summer has certain allures that attract even the most un-outdoor people to go outside.  Another charming feature that I love about summer is the thunder storms it brings.  The storm usually departs as quickly as it comes, but the effects that it has on plants, trees, flowers, wildlife and the earth are unmistakable, although it may cause some inconveniences to us, human.  (Deal with it HUMAN!)  Rain from the storm revitalizes, rejuvenates and energizes every living and nonliving thing on earth.  Birds sing louder, their songs are sweeter.  Trees are happier, their leaves with dripping raindrops turn greener, like a tall handsome healthy man just gets out of shower, smells and looks wonderful!  Shrubs and flowers are invigorated by the rain, new sprouts and flower buds appear in thousands shortly after the rain.  They cannot wait to show off how merry they are as well.   I take great pleasure to visit them in my walk.  

But now, most of the flowering plants have gone to seed and in the morning, I hear less and less birds chirping.  This morning, I even switched on the light in order to perform my morning chores.   Nevertheless, end of summer brings other delights I fancy.   It is the magic it creates at night.

Last night, I decided to put my air conditioner to rest.  I opened all the windows and let the fresh air fill my apartment.  Instantaneously, I was greeted by the nicest breeze, cool but not cold, inviting and soothing, just the right temperature.   Outside, the sound of my neighbors’ air conditioners were suppressed by the chirping sound of crickets and the rustling sound of leaves.  Then, I looked up; it was a full moon.  This orange ball shone through tree branches, peeking down at me with the brightest smile. Now living in Virginia, I have the comfort of having trees surrounding my apartment.  My bedroom window faces a wooded area.  Giant sugar maple and oak loom over the building, providing a cool canopy and allowing hot air to transform into a much cooler temperature.    Even in the peak of summer, my apartment is much cooler than outside.  Now at night, I need a light blanket to keep warm.   

I do not know whether it is safe to take walk after dark, but the magic of the night emboldens me to go out.  I think I will do just that tonight.   

Life After Peace Corps - Remembering my life in Azerbaijan

Laterly, I have been thinking about my life back in Azerbaijan.  Here is the article I wrote about the town I lived.  Amazing how time flies

My Wilderness in Sumgayit, Azerbaijan

Chi Chan, PCV Sumgayit

May 2011

More than a year ago when I was left behind in Sumgayit, some of my Peace Corps friends worried if I would ever make it. While they were elated for their next adventures in other parts of Azerbaijan, I nonetheless remained at this dusty, highly polluted, notorious industrial town for the next two years, ALONE!

Sixteen months have gone by and I am still here, absolutely content. In fact, I am beginning to feel melancholy about leaving this place in December. The source of my contentment perhaps stems from my daily walk in the park by the Caspian Sea. My initial motive was to use the daily walk to stay healthy. Soon after, I realized the walk also helped me to better integrate with the locals, and lift my spirits on a gloomy winter day. Slowly but surely, I became more and more addicted to the walk.

The best part of my daily walk is a “Green Tunnel”, a passageway no more than 200 feet long and 10 feet wide. Giant pines and tall fir trees loom on either flank of this confined area, forming an inviting cool canopy in summer, but a somber eerie dark place in winter. The best time to visit the tunnel is on a steaming hot summer afternoon. The air inside the tunnel is deliciously cool, at least 5 degrees cooler than outside. Young Azeri lovers often hide inside this tunnel and do all the things that their parents consider olmaz, so sometimes I refer this place as the “Lovers Lane”.

This corridor eventually ends at the foot of a 25-step staircase. A huge flowering shrub guards the stairs.  In spring time, this plant bears infinitesimal yellow flowers, its light but intoxicating fragrance permeates the entire tunnel and puts a spell on this secluded location.

One hot summer day, I visited the tunnel again. That day, the yellow flowers were in full bloom. While I was picking some for my apartment, (of course illegally) l stumbled upon a faint animal trail behind the bush. Ignoring Jeyhun’s warning about staying in populated areas for safety reasons, I decided venturing on this seemingly isolated dirt path which ultimately led me to discover a lovely, secretive place – the haven of Sumgayit.

The trail behind the bush was barely discernible, but I could still make out a few faded human and animal prints in the dry sand. I walked slowly down the dirt track. Soon I spotted a fragment of animal bone undisturbed on the sand. The vegetation around me grew to be increasingly dense. They were typical desert plants; dried bristly grasses, thorny shrubs and spiny-herbs. At one point, I had to elbow my way out.

Without any warning, a big hawk swooped low towards me, acting very aggressively. It startled me. The black bird wheeled, spiraled upward and eventually landed on the branch of a tall fir tree, still watching me from above, making loud, hoarse warning cry. Perhaps I was too close to its nest. I thought about retreating, but emboldened by curiosity, I decided to carry on.

After a while, I came out into a small open area. Almost at my feet, few small birds erupted from the grass. The place was nothing special. Just the same mix of desert vegetation and dry brown soil. And when I went up another faint trail, I found a little garden of prickly shrubbery with deep purple flowers.

That was about it. Except, perhaps because the place was so well hidden, it possessed a certain charm that intrigued me. On the fringe of the open field, a forest of ancient firs stood guard over the area, filtering out the hustle and bustle of life in Sumgayit on the other bank. Above, a big flock of black ravens circled, making kraaak-ing noise and doing a wild dance with the infamous “Baku Gale”.

The Park recently went through a complete makeover. Every walkway was made tidy with bricks; trees were scrupulously planted, trimmed and cut down. Flowers were artificially cultivated. But this small patch of land was left unattended. Here, plants grow in disarray; vines twist and twine, stretched in every possible direction to catch the sunlight, fallen branches serenely disintegrating under the immense, dry, desert heat, wild flowers radiate their colors, forms and character occur naturally, nothing is artificial, nothing is meticulously or strategically positioned and nothing is meddled by artificial impressions. Here, nature rules. The way the natural world is intended to be, and the way it ought to be!

I stood for a while at the edge of the field, looking out over it. The place exuded an air of rawness. What really enthralled me about this place was its lack of man’s signatures. There were no discarded plastic bags, cigarette butts, water bottles, papers or other human trash. Apart from the chirping sound of birds and the croaking cry of ravens, the place was completely silent, undamaged, whole, wild and alive!

After I had explored as much as seemed necessary, I turned and dug my way out to the main road. My unladylike behavior must have looked utterly crazy to the locals, and when I re-emerged from the flower bush, I attracted a few stares.

I went back to this place a few times. The fear that this place would eventually be exposed, or be invaded by the Azeri lovers made me stay away purposely. Each time, I smeared my footprints to conceal the trail. This apparently inconsequential place is special to me. What I saw in there was something wild, something unquestionably real, free of artificiality. It is my wilderness. I hope it will remain hidden, remain wild, and remain as it is.

Some nice moments in DC

Friends from afar, they brighten my day!

Mt. Vernon visit.  

The Old Rag behind me under a dark cloud

An amazing hike in Shenandoah

These two AT hikers are behind their schedule.  They will not reach Maine by October.  I gave them all my bananas, I am sure they appreciate them.  They have not had fresh fruits for a long time. Enjoy and have a good and safe journey.  It is not the destination, but the journey.  Donot give up!

Life After Peace Corps

Father’s Love

One of my co-workers is from Nigeria.  He is a young father with three children, a very religion man.  He is still very much an African, with traditional value, attitude and belief.   He is an average worker, typical Federal employee, laid-back, never get excited, but when it comes to parenting; he is much disciplined and firm.  Few times, I overheard him giving orders to his kids.  “Listen to your mother, Take a nap!”  He even admitted to me that he would hit his kids if they did not obey his order.   “I am their father, they have to listen to my orders,” he said it with tight emotion, acting like a tyrant.   He reminds me of my father.   

Growing up, I hated my father for he was an angry man and often he was violent.  My younger brother got most of the beating.  I had my share of punishment as well but less sever.  For many years, I assumed that he did not have a heart, did not love us.  When I moved to the US, I was happy that I did not have to see him again.  Over the years, my hatred towards him lessened.  Looking back to my childhood, I realized how hard it was for him to raise five children with his meager income.  He did not have much in his life, just worked day and night, seven days a week, from dawn to dusk.  The only enjoyment he had was a beer with his dinner.

Years ago, I went home for the first time.  My father came to the airport to pick me up.  His hair was completely gray, and he was wearing the same suit that he wore twenty years ago.  The sight of him made me cry....

Last week, friends from NY brought me a box of Chinese cookies.  I shared them with my Nigerian friend. I gave him two pieces and he took a small bite and loved it.    Ten minutes later, he showed me the cookies, which were now carefully wrapped in a napkin.  There was really not much left, just a small one with few crumbs. 

“I am so lucky today, Chi, I got some nice cookies for my kids” he smiled. 

His eyes were sparkling with kindness and I could feel his love for his children. I gave him all the cookies that were left in the box. 

Now I understand why I cried that day in the airport….

Life After Peace Corps -

Loveliness after the Storm

After the storm last night, I am eager to go out and find out the aftermath.  Outside, everything appears to be in disarray.  Tree branches, large and small, scattered everywhere.  Leaves soaked with last night’s rain stick to the ground and create various geometric forms and shapes.  It is quite lovely.  The apple tree in front of my apartment nevertheless is fairly intact; did not lose any major limps.  I find a few apples still clinging to its mother tree, dripping with raindrops, beginning to turn into golden color.  I shall have a taste of them in the fall when they turn red.  

Ah! here she is again, that chubby little red bird.  She hardly ever flies, always leaping on the grass, foraging for foods. She owns the apple tree; never allow me a near approach to her or her tree.  Every morning she greets me, (more like warns me) by her tree, making croaking sound and keeping her eyes on me.  This morning, she has a green wriggling worm in her mouth.  While she is busying with her prize, she still watches me closely, her jumping legs ready to spring for immediate flight or fight.   I say my usual “hello” and leave her alone. 

It is a fine calm morning, air warm but clear; not the slightest breeze astir; everything shining, the rocks and plants along the Four-Mile Run Stream are shimmering with dew.   The path leading to the heart of the stream is covered with debris, wreckages and remnants of last night hurricane like storm.  Many trees have fallen as a result of the 80-100 miles wind.  The most vulnerable one is the giant sugar maple.  I spot my old friend; the one that I used to seek shelter in a hot day has fallen on the ground.  Its giant truck splits into two pieces.  I am saddened by its final display, but realize that Nature has its way to keep things in order.  The Old gives way to the Young, soon the tree will decompose and give nutrient to the earth.  Young trees will begin to grow.  It is the law of nature, the cycle of life.   I just hope one day when my sun sets, I will cuddle down on the forest floor and die like the tree, the leaves and the flowers, and like them leave no unsightly remains calling for burial.   Can’t think of any better way to die.  Haha!

 

Continue on my wanderlust, I catch a glimpse of a brown rabbit hopping across my path.  I saw her before during my previously walks.  Perhaps she recognizes my scent and is not intimidated by my presence.  Soon she loses interest in me, disappears behind the dense bushes.  Life in nature does not seem to be slightly impacted by the storm.  While we human are still moaning and complaining the lack of electricity, gas and air conditioning, all the creatures I encounter in the wood are merrily going on with their lives.   Are we too greedy or are they too ignorant? 

Returning home, I discover the flower bed by my apartment is totally destroyed by the storm.  I find some lily plants crushed by the storm.  They are lying on the ground half dying.  I pay pity on them, bring them home and put them in a jar.  Soon, the lily flowers come back to life and thank me with their enormous flowers.  Again, they have survived!

Life After Peace Corps - The Storm

It came with no warning, suddenly, outside my living room window; everything was flying, spinning, and whirling.  A silvery zigzag lightning ignited the evening sky. Soon a deep low rolling sound became audible, followed by a loud crashing sound of thunder.  Few seconds later, a gray curtain of rain plashed down. 

As the storm intensified, I heard rattling sound coming out from my bedroom.  One of the windows was half open, so I went in to shut it.  Almost immediately, I heard a loud thump, like a flying bullet, an object hit the window, and the next thing I knew, my hand was bleeding, blood gashing down and I found myself standing next to a shattered window with disbelief. 

Inside the room, broken glasses were scattered all over the bed and floor, fragments of picture frames, plants and ornaments were lying every where. Leaves, twigs and dirt continued flying through the hole of that broken window.  The scene was chaotic and unreal!  For a short moment, I thought I was watching a 3D movie and all the flying, blowing were just 3D hallucination effect.  .

When I finally calmed down, I begun to comprehend what had just happened.  The giant tree next to our building fell and one of its boughs flew through my window.  Its biggest limp was still dangerously dangling outside my bedroom window.  No one answered the emergency number when I called.  I kept dialing the number over and over, but in vain.  Finally, I heard Eddie’s voice; our maintenance guy was running up and down the stairs.  I opened my door and stopped him.  He looked overwhelmed but was still kind enough to inspect my window.  He promised by next week, my window would be fixed.  Then, he looked at me and murmured something about how luck I was…..

Next morning, I found out my upstairs neighbor’s ceiling collapsed in the mid of the storm, her apartment was completely destroyed and water was still dripping to her carpet.  I felt so bad for her and realized how fortunate I was indeed. 

Now the storm is over and the sky is clear, but I still remember that dreading deep low tones of thunders reverberating in darkness, how helpless and fragile I felt when I stood facing that broken window alone….

l still enjoy watching a thunder storm intensified, am in awe of its extravagant grandeur, but now, I come to respect it... more than ever!.

Life After Peace Corps

In Search of its Being

Years, I questioned the existence of God.  Lately, I begin to sense its being, and the feeling grows stronger each day.  It is when I am with nature I feel its existence.  Walking in a wood, climbing a high mountain, hiking in a virgin forest or looking out to a valley from a high peak, I profoundly sense its presence. 

I truly believe if I meet God, it will be at a place that is full of flowers, trees, waterfalls, mountains and meadows. It may be on a bright sunny day, or a gloomy stormy night, no matter….

As of today, I have not yet met him, but if I continue to follow the path, it will eventually lead me to him. 

For me, God is Nature and Nature is God.

Life After Peace Corps

Things I Love to Do

My neighborhood has lot of flowers and trees.  In front of my apartment, there are two fruit trees: apple and the purple leaf plum.  I recognized the apple tree since spring but discovered the purple leaf plum tree only yesterday.  It was its deep red fruit caught my attention.  I spot a few lying on my running path.  Immediately, I thought they were cherries.  But when I bit into the fruit, it was crunchy like a plum with a sweet and sour taste.  I went to “google” and found out its name.   I was excited, went back to the tree and kept taking pictures of its fruits  Leaning new things in nature always brings me lots of joy.    

If I can re-live again, I would love to be a Botanist or Archeologist.  I am just a nature lover; crazy about everything in the natural world: flowers, trees, wildlife, streams, waterfalls, mountains, rocks and even a dead tree.  Remembering their names and shapes seems effortless to me.  Once I study a plant, I never forget its name and its look.   I think I will be happy just gardening every day, or scouting the wood every weekend.    I will be equally happy if I am a National Park Ranger, visiting a mountain every day. 

To be an Archeologist, one must have a strong desire for adventures, which I know I have.  Traveling to remote places, climbing into tombs, caves, mountains, cliffs, finding out the  relationship between people and landscapes, discovering the mysterious past behind each excavation, etc…  all that mesmerizes me.  Men like Indiana Jones, to me, are the most interesting and sexiest men on earth! I will have endless conversation with them over dinner with a glass of wine and candle light.

Anyway, I have lots of plans when I retire.  I can be a volunteer for a National Park, Sierra Club or an archeology society, or I can hike the entire Appalachian Trail, Continental Divide or the Pacific Crest, disappear into the woods for months, to be a hermit…..

Would that be nice?

Life After Peace Corps

 Life as It Should Be

The recent GSA scandal not only causes the casualty of a few top executives, it also creates massive financial reporting nightmares to other Federal agencies.  About a month ago, my organization received a letter from US Senator requesting a list of conference costs.   Financial reporting is my expertise, I had no problem putting the data in the format that was requested, but the data was MASSIVE, more than 3,000 entries , so I worked very hard for a week, nearly as hard as I used to when I worked for the private sector.  

Well, doing special project (like this Congressional Request) is always interesting.   I have been with the Smithsonian only three months, but I learnt a lot, including some of the BIG words, such as Curator, Philanthropy, Symposium, Synchrotron and Anthropological;  words that I never ever used before.  Now I can talk like a Professor, a Scientist, an educator, or even Dr. Chan…..:-)

I like my job, I like my organization.  It is a privilege to work for the Smithsonian. The work is not difficult at all.  Sometimes, I do feel bored working for the Federal Government.  I missed the dynamic environment in the private sector, the board room drama, the everlasting challenges of my brain, the accomplishments, and of course, the BIG FAT bonus at the end.  All those things made me feel important, productive, smart and proud.  Not everyone can handle the pressure I used to deal with everyday….but at the end, I could not deal with it any longer.

At this stage of my life, I want to spend more time doing things I enjoy.  Working 40 hours a week is enough.   I am off this Friday, plan to visit some museums, maybe go to Mt. Vernon, visit George Washington Estate, maybe take a long walk along the river, maybe visit my friends in NY, or maybe doing nothing at all……

Life After Peace Corps

Strawberry Field

Spring time is just lovely here along the Four-Mile Run stream, a small running creek down by the hill of my apartment.  The place exerts a magnetic spell.  Wild flowers are everywhere.  So far I have identified the daffodil, dogwood, Virginia bluebell, wild iris and strawberry, cliff rose, forget-me-not, yellow buttercup and many many more.  Here is the place I called “Strawberry Field”. 

About four miles into my walk, there is a patch of earth full of wild strawberry.  I never saw a real wild strawberry before.  Back in New York by the hiking trial of Harriman State Park, I spotted a few wild strawberry shrubs.  Occasionally in early May, I would see their yellow flowers, but I had never once seen the flowers grow into fruits.  Perhaps, they lacked of nutrients, or maybe birds got into the fruits before I had a chance to see them.   But here it is!  A plot of grassland by the river is full of wild strawberries.  The fruits are very small, but plumb with crimson color.  I pick one and taste it, not so sweet but juicy.  The birds should love them.    There is another plant I discovered by the hillside of the river. Its leave resembles the Chinese squash that my Brooklyn friend Wood grows in his garden.   It has the same yellow flower.  I have to remember to check them out in autumn.  Maybe that yellow flower will turn into a squash.  Wishful thinking!      

I find a nice spot to take a break on a level rock.  A gurgling sounds of the stream smooths me.  I take off my shoes and dip my feet into the water.  It is cold but I really enjoy the feeling.  My mind begins to drift back to early February when I first moved to Virginia.   I had my early sorrow.  I missed New York.  Many weekend, I felt desolate and bereft.  But as soon as I had decided to train for the 26-mile hike, I started taking long walk along the Four-Mile Run stream.  The walk slowly and surely heals my wounds.  While I am with the river, I forget my loneliness.  I keep walking and walking, discover more attractions along the river shore.  The river has also taught me another lesson about life.  Life resembles the flow of a river, it is constantly moving.  No matter how many twists and turns, the river continues to push forward and eventually, reaches its destination.  So I should enjoy the ride and not to be defeated by its turbulence.  Given time, I will fine-tune with my new life in Virginia, meeting new friends, developing a new altitude and living contentedly in a quiet suburban area.  Soon I will not miss the city life of New York. 

A child’s playful giggling brings me back to present, Oh! time to head back home.   Linda and Iren, my two Returned Peace Corps friends are coming to see me.  We are going to have a nice Chinese homemade lunch…….

Life After Peace Corps

Best Time of the Week

Sunday morning is the time I treasure the most.  Usually, I get up very early, clean my apartment, do laundry, and water my plants.  I walk around bared foot on the squeaky clean wooden floor, have a cup of 3 in 1 Chinese coffee and watch the sun comes up behind the two big sugar maple trees in front of my living room window.  That is how my day begins.

My apartment is facing east, captures all the morning sun.  As soon as the sun comes out, my plants become alive, someday, I could nearly hear them sing.  The blue morning glory plant whose seeds I brought back from Azerbaijan last year is growing nicely.  Actually, it is growing very aggressively. Its vines quickly spread by way of long, creeping sterns.   It seizes every object it can take hold of and grips on tight.  I have to trim the vines and let them grow along my floor lamp.  Soon I will see its blue flower.

After I make myself a hearty healthy breakfast, then I am ready to head out for a long walk.   My favorite part of the walk is a river gorge about five miles from where I live.  Some time I like to refer it as “my canyon” for I love the sound of it.   Inside the canyon, everything is just lovely.   Here is what I wrote when I first discovered this place:

I followed the watercourse and it led me to a narrow gulch.  Inside, the air was moist and cool.  Immediately, I was taken in by the luxuriance of plant life along the stream bank.  The vegetation was lush and green.  Soon I could hear the gurgling sound of running water echoing through the gully. Occasionally, small rapid appeared, and the water cascaded down to a rock chute.  There it was! a lovely water hole right underneath it.   Sun rays peeked through tree branches and casted a brilliant glow on the water surface.  At the bottom, pebbles covered with green algae and I found a few tiny fishes wiggling merrily.   Judging by the gully’s steep walls and richly forest, I was convinced that once upon a time, this place must be a remote coulee profuse with wildlife and exotic plants.  So I named this place “My Canyon”. 

This place is part of “My 26-mile hike training trail in Virginia” article.  I am still in a process of finishing it and hope to share it with my hiking friends in NY soon.  So stay tuned, my fellow 26-mile hikers.