we can’t find a house we like that we can afford
i drive my kids crazy being so close
the neighbors complain about living next door to a beagle
i can’t make any new friends
everything i worry about does not come true,
and this next chapter is full of new adventures,
change, bravery and saying yes
we can’t find a house we like that we can afford
so much packing
date night at the dog park
a park full of dogs and dog lovers
milkshakes on the way home
sleeping in on Sunday
my morning latte on the patio
a bread conversation with Jordan
new doors, or at least they look like new doors
seeing the end in sight
being outbid on my dream home
Baker catching and playing with a snake in the backyard
on my feet all week, packing
the deluge of raspberries we have picked every day
so much rain in July (which did make it easier to be inside packing)
I can't explain why a bride buys her wedding dress, whereas a groom rents his tux.
- Lou Holtz
my girl scout stamp collection, and the sash that held all my patches
the boys sports trophies, captain plaques and state soccer sweatshirts
worn out picture books, read so many times the pages had fallen out
much loved stuffed animals, whose work here is done
and yep, my wedding gown, which I never did get cleaned and after 42 years looked pretty cruddy
photographs, so many photographs
children’s books, so many children’s book
Liza Lou and The Maggie B
Charlottes Web and Shilo
the boys yearbooks, and one of mine ( i wonder where the others are?)
paper clips, post it notes, the Field Guide deck and sharpies
envelopes, just a few in case we need to write a letter or send a check
hard drives full of photographs, and some cd’s
a bit of my heart, opening it up and making room
for goodness and hope
nostalgia (hearing my father’s voice)
love (motherhood revisited)
frustrations ( because i have so much “stuff”)
accomplishment ( i packed up my office)
hunger (because i forgot to eat all day)
relief (thanks honey for the gin and tonic and the left over chicken noodle soup)
cleaned the house
packed up some of my office
made homemade chicken noodle soup
waited for a phone call
played ball with Baker
met with our realtor
and almost bought a house . . .
There is a lantern in the soul, which makes your solitude luminous. - John O'Donohue
why i come back early ::
i missed this space
picking my camera up daily balances me
(so does writing )
this spider was sitting in such great light
i need this space more than i need a break
i spent the time on break making lists in my journal
it fits me right now
because i want to . . .
“summer, after all, is a time when wonderful things can happen to quiet people. for those few months, you’re not required to be who everyone thinks you are, and that cut-grass smell in the air and the chance to dive into the deep end of a pool give you a courage you don’t have the rest of the year. you can be grateful and easy, with no eyes on you, and no past. summer just opens the door and lets you out.”
― Deb Caletti
I can remember, as a child, that feeling the last day of school brought; the possibilities those three whole months ahead held, seemed endless. Suddenly there was time to do nothing and everything. There was the family vacations to look forward to, but for the most part my summer days as a child were my own. We kids were left to our own devices, allowed to play in the neighborhood with friends, maybe walk to the “little store” for an ice cream bar, or head to the creek to wade and catch crawdads. We were free, without parent’s or teachers hovering over us or planning our days. We built forts, road our bikes, played made up games and seemed to only come in when we were hungry or had to use the bathroom. Life was simple, full of anticipation and unhurried.
Even my parents slowed down. Or so it seemed to me. We ate outside, where my folks would often sit until it was almost dark talking, while I played with friends until everyone was finally called inside. We also ate differently in the summertime. Sometimes we would have nothing more than ears and ears of fresh corn on the cob or fresh picked strawberries on homemade biscuits. If the weather was scorching hot, my mother would pack us a picnic for dinner and we would head to one of the small lakes around our home, where my dad and I would swim to cool off.
Sometime there were overnight visits from out of town family who were on their way to further destinations. During those visits there were cousins to play with and sleepovers, often outside in sleeping bags under the stars. Summer was also the time that both my Grandmother’s would come for a visit (at different times). I loved how my father’s mother drank tea and called my father Bobby and my mother’s mother always allowed me to sleep with her. She smelled like flowers and taught me that the hollowed out hole, left by taking the seeds out of a cantaloupe, was just the perfect size for a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
If I am honest the past several summers have seemed like nothing but work to me. Too much gardening, too much watering; the feeling of being tied down with chores and obligations. Somewhere along the way I lost the pure joy of summertime. This summer will be no different work wise, as we are working hard to place our home, of 32 years, on the market to sell. The possibility of putting things in storage until we can find a new home, overwhelms me a bit for sure. But I see so clearly that this is my summer to put in motion some much needed changes. It will be a summer full of possibilities. The summer that opens its door and lets me walk free.
So all of this reminiscing is to tell you I am taking a break from this space for the summer. I am hoping the break will either make or break my commitment to this blog.
In the meantime I will be swimming in a little lake close by on hot summer evenings, while he and the dog watch. We will be eating simply, mostly from the bounty of the harvest I will take from a garden space that has taught and given me so much over the years. I will be filling all the vases with flowers, flowers I have tended for years, putting them in every room to be enjoyed. I also will clear off bookshelves, purge closets, downsize kitchen gadgets and try my best to convince him to do the same with the garage. I look forward to the one camping trip we have planned to Northern Idaho, where I hope to connect with cousins and swim in the lake of my childhood. I will go to bed early, and wake with the birds. I will do what I need to do to empty out the past in my being, to make space in my heart for whatever this new chapter might hold for us. I am ready, a bit scared, and excited.
I will still pick up my camera most days and post here and there on IG, but mostly I will take photos for me, printing them to fill the walls of our new home. And, I will still be over on ViewFinders every six weeks or so, where I hope you will drop in to say hi.
I wish you all a beautiful summer, full of time well spent. I hope you have moments to do nothing and moments full of laughter, love and wonder.
I will see you in the fall . . .
“She thought, If I’m crazy, I may as well do what I feel like doing. No point being crazy if you have to worry all the time about what people are thinking anyway.”
― Marilynne Robinson, Lila
I often agonize over what it truly is I feel like doing at times,
I wrangle with roadblocks, feeling judgement and guilt, and a bit crazy.
but as I stroll, camera in hand, I find beauty all around me.
some of it begs to be captured; keeping me inside the moment,
following light, free of scrutiny and accusations.
“The more uncertain I have felt about myself, the more there has grown in me a feeling of kinship with all things.” - Carl Jung
the week is full of first; we eat the first broccoli from the garden along with
a few strawberries, lettuce, and kale. the first organic cherries arrive at
the farm stand in town, along with fresh garlic and zucchini.
the roses (that were spared from the deer) put on their first flush,
and i cut the columbine down to the ground. the air conditioning kicks on, as
a heat wave hits us and rain is scarce, so i water something
everyday. the dog drinks from the end of the hose and digs a bit in the dirt
to find a cool place to lay come late afternoon.
summer is here in earnest. i try to stay up until dark, but prefer to get up
with the sun, and so i stop fighting the early bedtime, knowing the morning
will bring a choir of bird songs, fresh air, and time to just be. i understand how important
this time has become and allow myself to bask in the balm of its soothing medicine.
i feel a sense of freedom, along with a sense of peace as i stop resisting feelings and
emotions. but i also trip over memories and stumble into old behavior.
i don’t scold myself, but rather bush myself off and start over. sometimes
all it takes is a reframing of my perspective and trust, along with love,
for compassion to emerge.
i grasp that being aware is more than noticing the buttercups;
for awareness is fluid, and if i allow it to flow without restrictions or the need to
control it, beauty is everywhere. i give myself permission to be happy, to fully engage and love life,
even when things are hard and don’t go my way. . .
i have started back up with a daily photo, you can find them in the day-to-day tab up top,
if you are so inclined. i missed the practice, i missed the documenting of each day.
i took this with my 24mm lens. i love the point of view.
and that tongue!
have a beautiful week,
“Can I imagine what it would be like, in the moment, to have a heart that is ready for anything?”
- Tara Brach
have a beautiful weekend . . .
It always seemed to me that the herbaceous peony is the very epitome of June.
Larger than any rose, it has something of the cabbage rose's voluminous quality; and when it finally drops from the vase, it sheds its petticoats with a bump on the table, all in an intact heap, much as a rose will suddenly fall,
making us look up from our book or conversation, to notice for one moment the death of what had
still appeared to be a living beauty.
- Vita Sackville-West
the peonies open ruffled and brilliant,
their jeweled tones catching both light and shadows.
i leave them to dance in the garden; beauty for all creatures
to enjoy. wondering if the the birds take note
as they flutter among the garden or perch on a feeder.
peonies never last long enough, and soon their ruffled
petticoats will look like that of a toddler’s, disheveled and
rumbled, leaving us yearning for next June.
I have always loved the gaps, the spaces between things, as much as the things. I love staring, pondering, mulling, puttering. I love the times when someone or something is late-there's that rich possibility of noticing more, in the meantime poetry calls us to pause. There is so much we overlook, while the abundance around us continues to shimmer, on its own.
- Naomi Shihab Nye
the weeks is busy and my mind whirls with a constant reminder to step back,
and breath. i yearn at times, for the days when i did not have so many choices or options. when i trusted my gut more, and with that trust, seemed to know myself a little better. i dig out my old journal and start writing again and slowly i come into focus.
Sometimes there’s no one to listen to what you really might like to say at a certain moment. The paper always listens.- Naomi Shihab Nye
i walk the yard with my camera in the evening light, my head among the swirling bees, who are busy among the raspberry patch. i play ball with the dog, order film and a new camera and find an abundance of beauty everywhere i gaze.
Being alive is a common road. It's what we notice makes us different.
- Naomi Shihab Nye
have a beautiful weekend.
i do my best to listen inward, taking time each morning to just be. i allow for feelings to rise and emotions to flow; giving them space without questions or judgement. one day however, fear grabs hold and gets the better of me and i resort to old ways. but i regroup, apologies (not for my feelings, but for the way i handled them), and find peace within my own words. this feels amazing.
i go to the gym and row, walking out of class, spent and feeling strong. i question why i am not there most days? wondering what holds me back?
“As my artist’s statement explains, my work is utterly incomprehensible and is therefore full of deep significance.”
- Calvin from Calvin and Hobbs
A few years back my husband bought me a Fujifilm Instax Mini 8 Instant film camera. I have played around with it a bit, but not used it nearly as much as I thought I would. So when I saw a couple of friends on IG, who were doing projects with their cameras this summer, I decided to play along. One photo a day, for the month of June, but I am having fun with it, so who knows how long I might go. I will be posting the photos on IG and here, under the project tab.
Summer seems like the perfect time to do something just for fun! And, I am hoping it will help me become better acquainted with this sweet little camera.
“Because our gardens are a part of nature, they never look exactly the same twice.”
― Shoukei Matsumoto, A Monk's Guide to a Clean House and Mind
a bit of deadhead and weeding, a garden bed full of rhubarb, a snake sighting, a gin and tonic in the afternoon, steak fajitas for dinner, evening light, and the joy of watching three deer walk up our road ( who later, in the middle of the night, came back to eat all the rose buds off the nine roses in our front yard).
But, I am doing my best to let let that rose part go . . .