LoriLoo

Memories

August 21, 2025

family

I stared at the x-ray and momentarily couldn’t understand who I was looking at.

Was this my bone structure? Or my mother’s? Or both?

My bottom teeth have moved, and I’ve noticed speech changes. My dentist referred me to an orthodontist, who took all sorts of x-rays. When the technician showed me the profile view, my stomach lurched. This was the face of my mother as she lay dying. The hollowed cheeks, the sunken eye sockets.

I remember the first time I looked at photos from the last days of Mom’s life. And thinking, “That’s not what she looked like.” I was diligent to take photos every day that I visited Mom. I regret not taking more photos of me and Dad, and his death came so quickly. I vowed not to make the same mistake with Mom. As I took the photos, I remember thinking how beautiful she was, and how I cherished each moment we had together, whether she was cognizant of those moments or not.

And later, when I looked at those photos, I was shocked. I didn’t see a beautiful octogenarian. I saw a skeleton of a human, wasting away.

And now I wonder, is it better to have a physical representation of a loved one, like a photo? Or better to have an image in one’s mind, encapsulating the feelings and emotions around the experience? After revisiting photos of Mom’s last weeks, I prefer the latter. I want to remember her as a beautiful soul, irrespective of what her physical representation was.

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Fireflies

July 20, 2025

Asheville Living, delight

It’s the end of July. They shouldn’t still be here, but they are. I’m not sure if that’s cause for delight or for concern.

During the month of June fireflies appear in western NC. They start glowing just before sunset, and generally find their mates (and stop emitting light) 30 – 45 minutes later. That’s part of their magic. They only appear during one month, and during that one month only for a limited number of minutes each day. It’s easy to remember, because June is my birthday month. June is the month of fireflies. June is the month I go to the porch, just before sunset each evening, with a glass of something cold – ice water, iced tea, or wine.

However, it’s the end of July and they’re still glowing. Not as many, yet still a respectable showing. I’m delighted, as this truly is one of my favorite phenomena. I’m concerned, as fireflies shouldn’t still be glowing at the end of July. What has caused this?

And yet, every evening, just before sundown, I mosey to my front patio with a glass of something cold. I sit in the glider that was Mom’s, and I listen to the increasingly loud sound of crickets. The chirping is a lullaby. Monotonous. Louder, then softer, then louder. The sound oozing into the humidity. Occasionally, a bat swoops above my head, quickly from one side of the house to the other. I enthusiastically hope that it is eating all the mosquitoes that like to eat me. I cannot imagine a more magical evening. How am I so lucky?

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A Big Delight, A Small Fright

July 18, 2025

Asheville Living

I was weeding the backyard, trying to address all the unwelcome plants that sprouted while I was out of the country. Plants formed a small jungle from waist high to taller than me. I heard my neighbor yell from across the street, “There’s a bear next to you!” I wondered if she could be speaking to me, as I looked to my left and saw no animals, then looked to my right, and saw no animals. “By your trash cans!” Oh, they were behind me. Gulp. I slowly, slowly stood up and started backing up. I was able to make it to the first landing of the deck stairs before the bears noticed me. As I paused, the mama bear stepped towards me. I looked into her eyes, and she into mine. I didn’t say anything, but intuited towards her that she had full reign of the yard. I continued to slowly step up the stairs, wondering if bears could climb stairs, and hoping they couldn’t. I think they probably can.

As I got further and further away from her three cubs, she relaxed, and I continued to back away. Once on the deck, she seemed satisfied I wasn’t a threat. The three cubs played, tousling with each other and ducking in and out of the greenery I had planned to weed. I marveled at how stinking cute the cubs were, and how majestic the mama was. I was thankful I could observe closely, yet far away, from above on my deck.

I watched them play, then watched them burrow their way through the tall shrubs/weeds. Did they exit? Did they hunker down? I couldn’t tell for sure. I stayed on my deck for almost an hour, looking for signs of them. I finally made my way down to the backyard, simply to retrieve my garden tools.

Weeding can wait until another day.

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An Outdoor Cafe, An Aperol Spritz, And Postcards

June 30, 2025

Travel

A lovely respite in the afternoon.

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Nature’s Unique Summer Symphony

May 7, 2025

Asheville Living

Cicadas have fascinated me since childhood. I remember one summer as a little girl, when the sound of cicadas was deafening, their hum incessant, and the tangible feel of their vibration in the air.

I remember hearing adults complain about the cicadas. The noise. The dead carcasses. The crunch. I remember thinking, “How lucky to witness this! To be alive when they decide to surface!” Cicadas are cyclical insects, emerging from underground every 13 or 17 years, essentially to mate.

And I always called them “chee-cah-dahs.” Which is not the correct pronunciation. But it’s what I was drawn to call them.

They’re back this year. I see them on my walks. I hear them humming, hoping to attract a mate. I marvel at their orange beady eyes. I adore their wide transparent wings. I mentioned how I love when they appear to a friend, and they looked at me with a raised eyebrow and said, “You mean “see kay dahs”?

Yes, I guess I do. 🙂

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Unnecessary Beauty

May 1, 2025

Asheville Living

There isn’t a flower I love more than peonies. They are unnecessarily beautiful. Not just beautiful, but over the top so. They could be half as beautiful as they are, and still worthy of praise. The blooms open gently; the petals large and fragile, threatening to drop at any moment. The thing I love the most, though, is that you have to appreciate peonies when they decide to bloom. Those blooms don’t last long, and they are painfully beautiful. I ache to savor their beauty longer than the time they are present. They demand you admire them in the few hours they’re here each year. They don’t require much care; they almost thrive on neglect. They are their own plant.

In these parts, they generally don’t bloom until May. I recently staked the plants, anticipating the beauty that would appear soon. I left for Florida on Friday for a dear friend’s birthday. The plants were healthy. Lots of greenery and tight, oh so tight, buds. I returned home on Tuesday afternoon (still April!) and to my surprise and delight, many of the plants were in full bloom! I didn’t even bring my luggage in; I immediately went from plant to plant, marveling at the fullness of each bloom, inhaling the intoxicating scent, witnessing the tragic beauty that would soon be gone.

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Storm Damage

April 1, 2025

Asheville Living

I carefully clipped each of the dozens of downed daffodils. The heavy rains, which we needed so desperately, had pummeled the blossoms into the ground. The oozy goo dripped from each stem as I snipped it. I tried, unsuccessfully, to direct the ooze to the ground and away from my hands and bare legs. Once inside, I carefully placed each stem in a vase, arranging by height and by color. The smell was intoxicating; such sweetness after such destruction.

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Along the Laurel River

March 24, 2025

Asheville Living, family, grief

I needed to get away. Historically, this time of year is a hard few weeks. The weeks leading up to Dad’s passing. It’s the same every year. I become teary, and agitated, and a sense of heaviness descends.

I drove on the highway, to a 4-lane state road, to a 2-lane state road, then parked at the trailhead. I applied sunscreen, doffed my baseball cap, and started walking. I remembered how much he loved the New River. I remembered how much he loved the outdoors. I saw sons hiking with their fathers and I cried silent tears behind my sunglasses. I wanted to be hiking with my father.

I remember the moment, almost six years to the day, when he hugged me and thanked me for being there with him and Mom. I remember my arms around him, shocked at how thin and frail he was. I remember thinking it was nothing, of course I was there, and we’d have many more days ahead of us.

I wish that had been true.

As I walked along the river, I talked to Dad. I told him I missed him as tears ran down my cheeks. I wished I could discuss current events with him, the state of the world. I wished I could talk to him about plantings, and what I’m thinking of doing with the raised beds this year. I think about how I moved back to NC eight years ago, anticipating Mom’s decline and ultimate death, and expecting Dad and I to spend many years together. I mourn the future that never came to pass.

I have inherited the love of the mountains from Dad. I walk along the Laurel River and marvel at its beauty. At its resilience. At how it is thriving after Helene. I say a silent prayer, thankful for what I’ve inherited.

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Supper Club

March 23, 2025

Asheville Living

An acquaintance from San Francisco realized we both now lived in Asheville. We reconnected, and she invited me to join her at a newly formed vegan supper club. What an absolute delight! We rolled our own sushi. We sampled sake. We shared memories of Hurricane Helene. We attempted origami. And we created community. ❤

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Detroit Was a Good Idea

March 10, 2025

Travel

Four of us met in San Francisco in the late ’90s. Over the years, one by one we left the city, until none of us lived there anymore. We continued to see each other, in pairs, in trios, and all four together, over the years. We’d end each reunion by saying, “This was a great idea!” Recently we convened in Detroit, a city where none of us had spent time. When I told folks I was going to Detroit in March, I received raised eyebrows, followed by the question, “Why?” Fair question, it was cold. Really cold. And a bit rainy/icy. And glorious.

We made the most of our 54 hours in the city. We enjoyed Detroit pizza (yum! still craving that crisp crust and delicious sauce). We walked along the river. We viewed Canada across the way (though couldn’t walk there yet; bridge to be completed soon). We wandered through the GM headquarters (delightful and unexpected!). Saw so. much. art. Outside and in. And Art Deco buildings. And Henry Ford’s Museum of Innovation. And so many delicious meals. Highly recommend Detroit.

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