Ms. Mermaid

                    

 All I can say about these photos is that Ms. Havana Ruby Modesta loves (and that's with a capital L) the sand and sea. Little Ms. Mermaid, that's our Havana.

The Road to the Olivine Pools

Haleakala

For the past week, our family has been welcomed by the lush, remote, sacred island of Maui. This was our first time touching the earth here and we were filled enthusiastic openness at the adventures and relaxation that lay ahead.

Some friends told us the best way to start our journey was to not to miss the sunrise at Haleakala, the sacred, dormant volcano near the center of the island. There was a catch though. The peace of the volcano was an hour and a half drive from our condo in Kihei and the sun rose at 6:59 a.m. For the first time, I was most thankful for jetlag! So at 4 a.m. (which is 6 a.m. PST, not too much of a stretch to wake for us early risers), we piled in the car (packed with warm clothing for the summit) and off we went filled with eager anticipation for the girls to see their first volcano and watch the day break.

We found it quite peaceful to drive the quiet Maui roads at that early time of the day. The still blackness was inviting. The girls, well Amara, had a ton of questions about things we passed, whether she would get to touch a cloud (something she has talked about since she was about five), and about the volcano itself. Havana was mostly concerned with there being actual lava flowing, which was scary for her. Don reassured her that we were safe but that we would get to see where lava had turned to rock, all which peaked her curiosity.

When we reach the peak of the volcano nothing could prepare us for how cold it was. We are forewarned by first hand accounts from friends how cold it would be but man, we didn't expect to feel like popsicles. Despite layers of clothing, along with hats, gloves and jackets, it felt like a brutal New York winter day. It was so frigid (the wind chill made the already freezing 30 degrees seem like it was in the teens) that Havana refused to get out of the car until I grabbed her minutes before sunrise and ran up the twenty or so steps to the overlook (big mistake to run with a fifty pound six year old at ten thousand feet) so she could see the magnificence of the rising sun.

Witnessing the sun make her way above the clouds was something I will never forget. I have seen countless sunrises and sunsets but there was something about that day and that time, in that spot, that really hit home the truth that the natural world, all made by a loving, beyond creative, Creator, hit me in my core in a way that I had not experienced previously. The truth of this touched the core of me, where this truth had laid dormant, awakening and never to sleep again.

Being on top of the volcano, seeing the sun rise, having the girls experience new and wonderous things; these are things I am most thankful for. I recently experienced a big earthquake in my personal life and what I am reminded of is to focus on what really matters; love, presence, quiet. This external journey to the summit of sacred Haleakala were reflections of those things.

The rare silversword.

 Amara really, really wanted to touch a cloud. Her wish came true! We were high enough to get out in and play in the clouds. What Don and I found exciting was seeing turbulence (above) as we descended the summit. Seeing the moving air come together was fascinating.

Surrounded by clouds.

There was a faint rainbow behind these two happy girls.

Tasting Snow-II

Amara told me, "All I want to do is stick my tongue out and taste the snow."

Tasting Snow

Winter Play

I find it most curious how I can barely tolerate weather below 60 degrees but as a kid in New York, even on the coldest, snowiest days, my brother Mark, along with neighborhood friends, would bundle up for outdoor play. Whether we were building snow forts, snowmen or spending hours sledding at our elementary school just a couple blocks away, I never seemed to mind the cold and snow. Even with runny noses, numbing toes and nearly frostbitten ears. When Mark and I would drag our numb, frozen parts home, our mother would make sure we took off our snowy boots in the garage and then we would go inside to thaw out. No matter how cold we got, the next day it would be the same routine. Our childhood was fun and exciting, snow, ice and all.

When I had my children, taking the girls to experience the snow was not something on my radar. I really can't tolerate the cold any longer (sometime after going to Jamaica at age 19 permanently shifted my internal thermometer) so the things I had on our family list were all
around warmer temperatures.

 Then when Amara and Havana were younger, Don began to talk of a trip to the snow.  I thought, "that could be fun." We ended up with several families for weekend in Tahoe. Confession; While the kids played I stayed inside! (Havana was only about one so she stayed with me.) They all had a blast and so fast forward a few years, when they were old enough to enjoy more and remember,  I bit the snowball again and off we went.

It turned out that the cold (and it was cold, 18-27 degrees cold) was managable for us all (well, except when Havana didn't listen about taking her gloves off and she stuck her bare hand in the snow. That was no fun.) We bundled up and took in the silent beauty that was all around us. It was magical, sacred and thoroughly fun.  Amara even took her first ski lesson while Havana and I took in some local site seeing.

When I left New York sixteen years ago, I had thought my winter days were gone for good. But it seems that we may just be making winter trips to mountains for years to come.

Everything is more fun with Papa Don. 

Amara finally got wise and used the googles for our ride down the hill

After a hard day at play, the girls snuggled up for a movie in front of the fire.

And of course, a book before bed. (Havana was a real trooper; she had a low grade fever the entire weekend.)

Lake Tahoe is beautiful any time of year.