Dreams and Bucket Lists!

A painting of our little, cozy cabin

Backpacking never entered my mind. When I was a young girl, summers and winters were spent at our cabin in Big Bear, CA. It wasn’t fancy, but cute and cozy nestled among sugar pines on a huge, corner lot. In the summer, we spent time swimming in the lake, but right in our backyard we played badminton, watching those birdies fly over the net. When snow blanketed the ground, we pulled the toboggan out and slid down the hills. Squeals of joy whirled around the trees!

I didn’t learn about pitching a tent until Matt and I met and married in our late twenties (almost 36 years ago). He had already embarked on several backpacking adventures. But the idea never appealed to me, and yet, after he started taking me camping, my love for the outdoors blossomed. I didn’t mind getting dirty or sleeping in a tent. One of my rules, though, was ensuring the tent stayed zipped up so that bugs of all species (especially, spiders) remained outside where they belonged. And of course, Matt didn’t want to sleep with bugs either!

When our daughter and son each turned one year old, they became our little campers. Was it easy? Not in the least with packing a highchair, port-o-crib, diapers, etc., but looking back at those precious photos makes the hassle worthwhile. Their imaginations ran wild as they played around the campsites, and it was special to witness. Matt felt they were old enough to backpack when our daughter was seven and our son was four. At the very mention of the idea to them, their excitement bounced off the walls! They were eager to get a pack on their back and hike on the trail like daddy!

“Young Campers”

They amble through the African savannah,
eyes alert, keeping watch for big animals
seeking out their next meal.
But their excitement soars
because they want to see the
beautiful creatures.
Suddenly, a thunder-booming growl
echoes throughout the grassland!
Their feet become blocks of cement,
stopping in their tracks,
as fear creeps up their necks!
Terror escalates as they hold their breath!
Legs shake like trees from an
angry gust of wind.
Any sound could be the end!

Then Mom yells, “Lunch is ready!”
Fear subsides, and their adventure halts.

Until tomorrow …
when their imaginations come alive again.


(From my book, Ever So Gently)

So, the tradition began and continued for several years, taking them to the Sierra mountains, and locally, Point Reyes National Seashore. During these times when my family was away, I’d get together with some girlfriends for a ‘girl’ weekend. It was a win-win! Now as adults, they thank their dad for showing them the beauty of the wilderness and for those wonderful memories.

Then one morning in my mid-fifties, I woke up with an epiphany! I was ready to backpack! I wanted to write stories from my own experiences. I loved listening to Matt’s tales with the kids, but the desire escalated to get a pack on my back. Matt was elated that his wife would join him on the trail! We soon headed for the Sierra Mountains, several years in a row. Up and down hills, carrying that pack, wearing the sunhat, using walking sticks when needed. There was always a lake to fall into once we had discarded the pack and set up our wilderness home. And there is something surreal and profound about carrying all you need on your back. What an experience! The shimmering lakes, trails, nature surrounding us with her critters and sounds, vivid sunsets, and oh, the memories made!

Our first trip to Shealor Lake – one of my favorite photos!
Heading to Spider Lake, 5 miles up hill,
and no spiders were seen on this trip.
Matt in the moment with all the gear!
One of many miracles we witnessed!

After reading the book, Wild, by Cheryl Strayed, and then watching the movie starring Reese Witherspoon, a dream of hiking on the Pacific Crest Trail wiggled its way into my mind. This dream has been diligent in holding its place until I make it a reality. We haven’t hiked the PCT, yet, because returning to our favorite lake each year seemed to have had a magnetic effect. But now in our early sixties, the dream still wiggles! Are we too old? From what I’ve read, people of all ages hike in general, let alone, hike the PCT, so we’re not old at all. But in spring of last year, my health took a turn…

I wasn’t able to walk two houses down our block without pain. It’s been a challenging year, but the reader’s digest version is that I’m doing much better! Since the spring, I’ve been able to hike again pain-free. Thus, my recovery and learning how to manage an incurable but treatable diagnosis has woken up my dream from a long repose. One caveat from my doctor is that bearing weight on my back as in wearing a backpack isn’t advisable. However, to remedy this, Matt would carry more, but we’d both really pare down to go lighter than in past years. And a side-note…I don’t care about the distance I hike on the PCT, whether it’s one, two, or twenty miles – I just want to be able to say, “I hiked the PCT!” Consequently, we’re gearing up for 2026! I only pray that good health sustains for both of us to bring this dream to fruition.

From the web. It’s good to keep a visual for perspective
and motivation.

“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.”
~ Henry David Thoreau

Have you backpacked? What’s on your bucket list?

CHEERS TO DREAMS, BUCKET LISTS, AND TO GETTING ON THE TRAIL! 🥾❤️😁

Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites ©2024 – All rights reserved.

Website: baydreamerwrites.com
Author Of The Month, May 2023 Spillwords Press
Monthly Contributor, Gobbers-Masticadores Literary Website
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B08NCRH4MK
Author Latest Release Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poems
Author, More than Coffee: Memories in Verse and Prose
Author, Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poems
Author, New Day, New Dreams: A Poetry Collection
Co-Author, Petals of Haiku
Co-Author, This is How We Grow
Co-Author, Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships
Cora’s Quest, A children’s book, coming this fall!

Click on the image
to purchase your copy. 
Thank you! 🧡

Book Reviews: Compelling Novels and Evocative Poetry!

Dear Friends,

These reviews are long overdue, but I enjoyed each book equally, all 5 glowing stars! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I will post my reviews soon on Amazon and Goodreads. 😁

The Contract by John W. Howell and Gwendolyn Plano is a story with romance interwoven between the elements of a thriller and a supernatural. Chapter One had me hooked! Peter and Teresa become Heaven’s representatives on earth to assume the bodies of deceased Brad, who was a Navy Seal, and Sarah, who was a teacher and married to an abusive husband. Together, they are assigned a colossal mission, which produces an action-packed and intriguing story. Just when I thought I had it figured out, I began second-guessing who Brad and Sarah should trust. A fun fact for me was the familiar settings of the town of Davis, San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Sausalito, all in my ‘backyard.’

I’m sure it isn’t easy coauthoring a book, but the authors did a fabulous job in making sure the writing flowed seamlessly. The thriller element will keep you turning the pages to the very end, and the love story and supernatural qualities will leave you feeling good. A highly recommended book that offers something for everyone!

I don’t normally read phycological thrillers, but when I ran across a blog post promoting Warning Signs by Carol Balawyder, I immediately paid a visit to Amazon. I was already familiar with Balawyder’s wonderful storytelling and was eager to dive into another one of her books. Once my copy arrived, I dove in and finished the book in two days! A definite page-turner! The story of Eugene, the main character, is horrific, but the author’s experience in Police Technology is apparent from beginning to end, which made my experience fascinating. Regarding Eugene’s criminality, Balawyder didn’t paint graphic scenes that would be disturbing. I appreciated this decision in writing the book. The reader learns the crime, can envision the scene, which is horrendous, but then the story progresses with believable supporting characters who attempt to fit the pieces together. They each carry their own baggage that enriches the tale. A twist took me by surprise, but the conclusion is superb. I’ve always loved a good mystery where the characters work diligently to solve a crime. So, I enjoyed this book for the different genre that it was, along with Balawyder’s brilliant writing.
Highly recommended!

Ephemeral Encounters (Her Book of Words) by Maggie Watson is an exquisite collection of poems that speaks candidly from the heart. The melody of unrequited love plays throughout the pages. I cozied up with these lovely poems one evening and read from beginning to end. Watson’s language is both accessible and elegant. You’ll discover honesty, raw, yet beauty, throughout each poem – the emotions are palpable. Watson gently adds passion to this mix to keep the reader even more engaged.

Falling in love and being loved are elements of life that are vital to one’s desire to live. It is human nature to hunger for attachment, acceptance, and feeling special. When this love enters into our life, a poet feels inspired to write. And when the ache of a love not meant to be persistently throbs, a poet also feels inspired to write. Watson has compiled a touching, relatable, and profound collection. I have too many favorites to list, so I’ll share one of them that stood out, “Unfinished Symphony” (the first of three parts):

Don’t place flowers on my grave when I die.
I am not there.
I will be standing right beside you.
I will be the wind in your hair.
Or keep me in your heart.
That is where I always wanted to be.
I would have swum across an ocean to be in your arms.
But you kept running, and I grew tired.
In this world, we could not be lovers.
Maybe in the next?
You will always be my unfinished symphony.

I highly recommend this poetry book for anyone who has ever been in love
or who has nursed a broken heart.

I’ve always been fascinated with packing imagery and emotions into just a few lines of poetry, and haiku is one form that delivers. Dawn Pisturino’s book, Lunar Gazing Haiku, is a beautiful collection of over sixty haiku touching on emotions, passion, spirituality, seasons, and of course, the spectacular moon. I immersed myself into these short yet meaningful poems one morning while enjoying a hot cup of coffee. In the beginning of the book, Pisturino includes the Introduction that offers history on this short Japanese poetry form which I found to be beneficial. Gaining more knowledge by reading enriches the experience while enjoying the content. This short chapbook is meant to be read more than once. Throughout its pages, there is an aspect of life for everyone that will resonate. Highly recommended for all poetry lovers.
I enjoyed this entire lovely collection, but a few favorites are:

Fireflies

fireflies in the dark
spur childhood imaginings
fairy lanterns glow

Autumn

crisp red apples taste
sweetest in pie and cider
on brisk autumn nights

Healing

mooncakes and water
capture moonlight’s silver rays
powerful healing

I hope you won’t leave here empty-handed, but thank you for stopping by!
Happy reading,
Lauren ❤️

Lauren Scott
Website: baydreamerwrites.com
Author Of The Month, May 2023 Spillwords Press
Monthly Contributor, Gobbers-Masticadores Literary Website
Amazon Author Page, https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B08NCRH4MK
Author Latest Release, Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poems
Author, More than Coffee: Memories in Verse and Prose
Author, Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry
Author, New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry
Co-Author, Petals of Haiku: An Anthology
Co-Author, This is How We Grow
Co-Author, Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships

© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.

Leora’s Letters by Joy Neal Kidney – Book Review

As I began reading Leora’s Letters, the story of The Wilson Family by Joy Neal Kidney, it didn’t take me long to feel moved by the love, faith, and perseverance in this remarkable family. The tale begins with Leora and Clabe who were farmers in Perry, Iowa during WWII, but their story unfolded when one by one, their five sons enlisted, wanting to serve their country. During this period, the family stayed in touch by old fashioned letter writing initiated by Leora, and I felt honored to read the letters that were evidence of their solid family connection. But the intense silence was palpable during the times when Leora and Clabe waited for their sons to reply. I can only imagine the emotional turmoil.  

The letters also reminded me of my parents’ story that commenced during WWII. They were engaged in 1942, then my dad was sent overseas. Handwritten letters were the glue that kept them connected for three years before Dad was honorably discharged in 1945. They were married soon after he arrived home. Theirs was a love that was everlasting, and February 24, 2012 would have been their sixty-seventh anniversary, but mom passed away on February 2nd. However, if not for the letters floating back and forth, their story may not have been written. So, there is something exceptional to be noted about old fashioned letter writing, but unfortunately, this intimate gesture has faded with conveniences of technology.  

Leora’s Letters may be a personal diary of The Wilson’s, but it also serves as history, reminding us that those who sacrificed their lives in war should not be forgotten. I knew the premise before I started the book, but I wasn’t aware of the details. As I continued from one chapter to the next, I sensed a dreadful anticipation. As a parent, I can’t fathom how Leora and Clabe felt, not knowing the whereabouts or wellbeing of their sons. I became teary-eyed as the story progressed, and at one point, I considered putting the book down for good. The heartache was overwhelming. Though the sorrow never subsided, I’m glad that I made it to the end.

Joy is the daughter of Doris Wilson Neal and the oldest granddaughter of Leora and Clabe’s. She is the keeper of her family’s history, so through intensive research, she beautifully crafted this book with the help of Robin Grunder. I commend Joy and Robin for such a well written and moving account. And I am still moved by Leora’s strength and courage to greet each new day for decades later despite the magnitude of loss she endured. I highly recommend this book because it profoundly touches on love, family, resilience, faith, loss, and the desire to move forward.

_____________________________________________________________________________

I pulled this information from Joy’s blog, and I encourage you to visit her, allowing yourself to be swept up into the rich history that she shares.

Leora’s Letters: The Story of Love and Loss for an Iowa Family During World War II tells the story of the five Wilson brothers who are remembered on the Dallas County Freedom Rock® at Minburn, Iowa. Leora was their mother–Joy’s delightful grandmother.

FreedomRockFurneaux (2)

Navymen Donald and Delbert Wilson. Pilots Dale, Danny, and Junior Wilson.

Joy the photobomber, so this was the day of the dedication, October 2019.

Joy has written many books on her family history, and they are available from Amazon.com in paperback, hardback, and ebook. Leora’s Dexter Stories and Leora’s Early Years are also in audio form, with “virtual voice.” I look forward to reading the rest of the series.

© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.

July 5 – Journal Entry

Dear Family and Friends,

What I’m posting today is not something I normally share. Maybe some will think this isn’t a good idea. There is no poem or fiction story. I’m sharing something personal but definitely not for sympathy. More for a cathartic purpose, a release, and maybe, hopefully, one of you will be able to shed some light for me. This is kind of long, so I understand if you don’t have time to read. But if you do, and you have knowledge of what I’m talking about, I’d be grateful to read your comments. By the way, I may regret posting this, so it could end up deleted.

Dear Journal,

They say that writing is therapeutic, so here goes…

Over two months ago, I started experiencing a lightning bolt jolt of pain through my right heel. The pain came in spurts, any time, any level of pain, and any frequency. They’d last only for seconds. Some jolts were mild, some were moderate, but one Thursday, the jolts began with my morning coffee around 5:30 am and continued throughout the day until around 1:30 pm when they finally mellowed. They came in series of 7 or 8 jolts every twenty minutes or so, Boom! Boom! Boom! One after the other with the intensity I have never felt before until this day. The jolts were debilitating. I stayed home from work, and admittedly, I was in tears and my nerves were on edge. I tried to stay calm, but calm was difficult to attain. I began to anticipate the jolts, which paralyzed me from doing anything, reading, writing, even blogging. The degree of this level of heel pain was new, so I emailed my doctor, and she ordered x-rays.

I had to get these x-rays done on this day when the jolts were at their strongest degree of pain, which honestly, felt like an 11! But I was afraid to drive because with this pain being in my right foot, my accelerating and braking foot, I feared a strong jolt would occur while driving, causing me to have a knee-jerk reaction, and who knows what would happen. So, my husband took me to get x-rays. The next day, my doctor said that the results indicated a heel bursa. I didn’t think so. Years ago, I had an irritated bursa in my hip, which went away over time, and this felt more ‘nervy.’ And her assumption didn’t even match the medical results I read on my medical online account that I couldn’t quite decode. She referred me to a podiatry specialist.

My podiatrist said that it wasn’t a bursa, and after tapping my heel and listening to my symptoms, here’s what he said, “I really don’t know what this is.” It’s not Planter Fasciitis or Neuropathy. I was praying for a diagnosis, cause, and treatment, so these words were beyond disheartening. By this time, I had been wearing Hoka tennis shoes and heel cups (never heard of them before) for a few weeks, creating more support for my foot. He said to continue wearing them, rest, and ice, but he was going to refer me to neurology to have my nerves tested. When he described the process for that, I almost passed out. By the way, am I the first person to tell him about this kind of heel pain? I find that hard to believe. How could he not have any idea?

Then after hearing my case, neurology told him that it wasn’t necessary for me to have a consultation with them. My podiatrist labeled my condition as Baxters Neuritis and prescribed Gabapentin to mitigate the pain and to be taken each night, low dosage. A tiny part of me thinks he’s reaching for a label to appease me because when I Googled Baxters Neuritis (of course, I did), the symptoms didn’t align with mine. Maybe cases vary, I don’t know.

So, fast forward three weeks, and I’ve been living in Hokas (now have 3 pair: white, black, and bright blue), except for sleeping and showering. Luckily, I’ve had several pain-free or I should say, jolt-free days, and 1 jolt on other days. None at night, so I’ve been able to sleep. Because the intense pain never visited again, I have not taken the meds. I’ll take them if I need them. The lessening pain has me feeling hopeful.

With all this said, I know most of us deal with some kind of pain. Pain that will fade over time, heal with Motrin or other meds. Some people are handed a life and death diagnosis. This is not life or death. But because it’s nerve related, it may be chronic, and because it’s in my foot, it impacts my ability to walk Copper, our lab, to walk for exercise, and simply to walk from the front door to my car, or at work, or from my car to the grocery store, let alone through the store.

This random, bizarre, unpredictable pain impacts my life with my husband, our love for hiking and backpacking. We have a trip planned in August, in six weeks. If you asked me today if I could do it, I’d say no, because I’m limiting time on my feet to hopefully rest the nerve, and dare I say, heal? I can’t even walk around the block, and I don’t know if this will ever heal. And this thought breaks my heart because I feel like I’m breaking my husband’s heart. Now in our early sixties, we want to hike and backpack for as long as we can. And if we had to stop now, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. We could still camp. I can function – the bright side. And of course, he doesn’t see it as me breaking his heart. He feels helpless when I’m in pain, and since my tolerance is pretty high, he knows when I’m truly hurting. Of course, he’d be disappointed if we couldn’t hike or backpack again, but he cares about me first and foremost. Just so you know. But I look at the big picture and feel like a burden. I really do. I’m aware of my foot every day, sounds funny, doesn’t it? But really, I’m babying it, handling that nerve with kid gloves.

Yesterday, July 4th, was an anomaly. I had three series of jolts throughout the day. I analyzed and asked, “Why?” I’m wearing good shoes, walking less, icing, resting…but I am living, so I am walking, just not as much. I’m not sitting on my butt. I’m still working, and I’ve walked Copper, but the walks have been truncated. Fortunately, he’s older now, so he’s just happy to get out and sniff and pee. But just when I was feeling hopeful, I felt like I took five steps backward yesterday.

Anyway, I’ve tried to keep a positive mindset. On the pain-free days, I am grateful. And when just one jolt comes and it’s mild, I am grateful. But it’s not only the intense pain that is paralyzing, it’s the “Why?” when I’ve been doing everything I should be doing. And then, it’s the anticipating for another jolt to follow, until I do some deep breathing and move on with whatever I’m doing at the time.

Miracles happen, right? Well, I’m also realistic. And this isn’t life and death, but even though it’s not, it’s impactful to me, to my husband, to my dog, and to my future. Our feet are necessary for everyday tasks. If it sounds like I’m whining, please forgive me. Please understand whining about poor me is not my intention. Writing about this is therapy. I’m not one to complain, and I’m compassionate for those in worse, worse, situations. But this is my new pain, my new change, and that shouldn’t be negated either. I continue to take one day at a time, pray for a pain-free day, and deep breathe when necessary, and hope for a miracle. But if that miracle isn’t meant to be, then I’ll have to modify my activities. My husband and I will have to make changes. I just bought an exercise bike (cheaper than a pool because swimming is good exercise), so hubby and I will set that up this week. An option. Moving forward. The only option is to move forward.

Thank you for stopping by. Thank you for reading if you had the time. This is raw writing, no editing, so if you see mistakes, please forgive those, too.
With love, Lauren ❤️

© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.

Is that most embarrassing moment still buried deep in your subconscious?

Mine is! Even after more than four decades!

The year was 1978. It was my best friend’s father’s birthday, and I was invited to go out to dinner with the family to celebrate. When we arrived at the popular restaurant, we had to wait for a table – it was crowded even for a weeknight. But the lobby was decorated in reds, oranges, golds, and greens – a warm atmosphere, inviting us to sit down while we waited. Most of the group found seats, including me. I sat on the edge of a comfy sofa. One you can sink right into and wonder how on earth you’ll get out of. On my right side was an end table with a slim glass vase holding one single red rose. Very dainty and pretty.

My friend’s father – the man of the hour chose to sit next to me. I scooted to my right a couple of inches to give him a little more room. What I didn’t realize was the comfy sofa had no arm and the end table was so close that this fact was camouflaged. Before I knew it, before I could shift the direction of my body, I slid off that sofa, landing on the hardwood floor! What seemed like slow motion, that beautiful end table skidded a foot across the smooth surface, prompting that dainty, pretty vase and rose to tumble off into a dramatic crash! Footsteps of restaurant patrons dodged scattered rose petals, shards of glass, and tiny puddles of water. And there I laid, stunned, wanting to melt into that hardwood and disappear for a few months. Long enough for everyone watching to forget about this mortifying moment.

Mel, my friend, offered me a hand. I must’ve stood up, accepting her help, but what actually happened honestly remains a blur. That event, though, from over forty years ago, stays vivid in my camera roll of memories. The difference between then and now is that I can laugh about it. To just laugh and let those silly giggles escape with delight is always a great solution!

Thank you for reading and remember to give those giggles some freedom!
Do you have an embarrassing moment to share? 🙂

Lauren Scott (c) 2021 ❤️❤️❤️
Vase photo: Google
“Just laugh” photo: dry erase board on my fridge. 🙂