Cozy

Oh, this face! Tonight she was reunited with her favorite blanket in the whole house: the handmade quilt. Naps ensued.

I've been eating Yumm bowls all week. Our favorite version is rice (arborio, because that's all we had on hand) and beans (borlotti, this time), with shredded carrot, sprouts, sliced tomatoes, avocado (leftover guacamole this time), and Cafe Yumm sauce. Soo delicious. And yes, a bit out of season with those tomatoes and avocado, but sometimes you just need a little tomato goodness in January, you know?

Also hopping on the golden milk train. Mine turned out super thick (did I cook it too long?) and tasted kinda like cooked squash. Been using it in everything from smoothies to lattes; it does seem to be helping with my back pain!

And finally, a cozy tableau: the mattress for the sleeping nook in our guest room finally came today. At first I was feeling kind of bummed by the mishmash of patterns and colors involved in setting up the bed (sheets, duvet, quilt, pillows, handmade rug - nothing really matched or felt cohesive), but when the sun sets and the room is lit by the glow of some twinkle lights, suddenly this room glows with a special magic. And do you see the little face peeking around the corner from the foot of the bed? I think anyone who stays here will have to expect to share the nook!

taking in the woods, the woods taking in me

It's a funny thing; the older I get, the more porous life seems to be.

When I was a kid, I used to think of myself as a solid entity, a single individual (the famous American individualism!), hermetically sealed off, really, from the world. I was an individual living and moving in the world, yes - but inside my skin, that was ME, and outside my skin, that was NOT ME. I remember experiencing something of a shock the first time I really conceived of the fact that I was permeable. And not just through my mouth or nose, my ears or eyes ... but my skin. That I excrete through my skin the foods I eat, that my skin breathes in and absorbs the environment around me. 

Yeah, I think it was realizing the porous nature of skin that really started to shake my sense of myself as a solid being, a singular entity: if chemicals, molecules, could pass through my skin - if things could come and go through me - then how could I be certain what constituted me? 

The older I get, the more everything feels ... impermanent. Just chemicals, elements, atoms constantly reconfiguring. Energy transmitted, passed, shared. Touch, go, leave something behind. Maybe it's my yoga practice; maybe this is what it means to start to conceive of one's existence as but a wave in an ocean.

It's a little unsettling. And at the same time, comforting.

In particular, lately, I've been thinking about states of matter. I touch a wall or a crystal or a piece of wood and think about the fact that its solidity is, in some ways, just an illusion of my limited sensory capacity; really, if we could excite the atoms to loosen the molecular bonds connecting them, this solid item could melt and run through my fingers - or evaporate into air, and I could inhale it into my lungs. I think about the act of swimming, about myself as a collection of more densely packed atoms moving in a body through more loosely arranged atoms.

(nettles are just starting to come up; I have half a mind to go pick these young things early, just to satisfy an early craving for the flavors of the woods. It'd take a long time to gather enough for a meal, and I'd have to range over a lot of territory, but my mind fixed on them some weeks ago and I have been contemplating them with something bordering on obsession.)

(miner's lettuce, too)

 

Even our experience of sound and light are determined by varying resonances of vibration; red could so easily be green; treble could so easily be bass. (I have no idea what these fat, juicy little mushrooms are, but aren't they delightfully plump and succulent-looking little fruits?)

I think, too about the conservation of energy in all this, the recycling, the recombining of elements, particles. Nothing is lost, the physicists tell us. 

I don't know to what end these thoughts are tending, but I feel like my sense of my own existence is shifted by them, in subtle ways.

I wonder what changes these changed and changing perspectives work upon me?

waiting to break ground

The bulbs I planted outside two weeks ago haven't broken ground yet. (I know - shocking, right?) But each warm (aka: in the 40s) day, I go out and peek. Today, a little leafy bit of a weed from somewhere had blown over the bulb patch and for a moment my heart was in my throat. It's hard to be patient - even when there's so much to do before the time comes to just enjoy the garden. I miss having snowdrops; we had them in our rental garden, and they always started coming up so early! Maybe I'll add some this autumn.

For now, these bulbs will have to fill the days of watching and waiting (and working). They're amaryllis bulbs, a bit past their prime. I had this great idea for a Yule gift for a friend who lives back east and who is discovering the isolation of the lingering winters in a small New England town: a pretty turquoise dish of a pot, some intensely-colored amaryllis bulbs, a packet of soil and some stones. Life, shipped right to your door.

Of course, when I hatched this plan, I forgot that my friend will be spending the next few months in Oaxaca, leading an undergraduate study abroad session. Ah, the best laid plans...

I transplanted an African violet into the pretty turquoise dish and planted the bulbs before they could languish. It's a bit late in the season, so we'll see how they recover and whether or not they perk back up. I'm optimistic.

A bit of rare midwinter sun for us -though this hasn't been much of a winter at all. This blueberry hasn't even lost its leaves from last year yet, which is kind of crazy to think about. Will we have enough water, come summer? Will we have another devastating fire season, this year?

An old friend of mine is also getting back to blogging with the turn of the calendar; today she posted and asked what our dreams or plans are for the new year.

 Neither of us goes in much for New Year's resolutions, but we do both enjoy a good list (whether it's a to-do list or simply an ideal list of things we'd like to get to within a given period of time); we're both highly productive women with many interests. Planning is essential if you want to do many things at once.

I've already written about getting back to blogging more regularly this year, but on that ideal list, I have another goal, aspiration, or mantra of sorts for the year:

To invest in what is mine, and to relinquish that which is not.

I am working this year on placing my time, my focus, my energy, my care on things which are under my control - that which is "mine." And the rest? I'll be practicing graceful acquiescence to others, to what must be. 

holiday wrap-up

Still finishing up holiday gifts around here, especially the homemade variety. I seem to be having the hardest time just packing up care packages and sending them, for some reason - even when the presents have been made and/or purchased for almost two months now. I try to convince myself that this is okay, arguing that we're just stretching the holidays out longer for everyone ... right?

2016: A New Direction

The other day I was feeling a little hungry for some time on one of my favorite blogs. I cruised on over to her site, and realized the author hadn't posted since I'd last been there - in November. She had said that she expected her posts to be infrequent for a while, so I wasn't really surprised.

As an alternative, I thought, I wonder if she has an instagram account linked to this blog? Lo and behold, the answer was yes. So I crawled inside her instagram for a while and got what I was really craving: lovely glimpses of Northwest life, from one of our state's islands; a romantic picture of a life somewhat more agrarian than mine in the the 'burbs (though the author frequently points out that real agrarian life is not at all romantic - and as I grew up working around horses and volunteering on ranches, I understand that); some time spent with another person's aesthetic, one which I really enjoy; an escape.

Is Instagram the new blogging? You can post a small caption with your photo, so in a way it serves a dual purpose - people get the images they crave (haven't blogs steadily become more and more picture-based, with fewer and fewer words? And haven't contributions and comments from readers become shorter, more hurried/harried, fewer and farther between?) more frequently, with less effort and input overall from both content-creator and content-consumer?

It's enough to make me wish I had a smartphone, because I think I kind of like it.

I suppose I'm not supposed to say that, but it's true.

I had a wonderful time looking and reading; I think I spent a quiet hour cruising back through months of photos. It satisfied exactly what I'd wanted, the same kind of drive that also feeds my pinterest account (11,000 pins and counting), but at the same time, more satisfying, somehow - perhaps because all the images feed from a single life, and I know there is a single, living, breathing woman creating this content. Perhaps also because I read her blog and enjoy her point of view on life, eco-activism, hedge witching, etc.

Which brings me back here. When I created this blog in 2007 (wow, time flies), I was getting a Master's degree, on my way toward a Ph.D. This was a place to share creative pursuits, all the things I'd been making, with family and friends who were now very far away from me. It was like a joint phone call to everyone: here's what I've been up to.

But things are different now. I've finished my Ph.D.  I'm working full time as a grant writer and building a freelance business as a writer and editor on the side. My husband and I just bought our first home. Both the reality of a longer commute (since we couldn't afford to live close in to the city) and of owning one's home (so much to fix, change, personalize, do!!) mean that creative time was in short supply in 2015. Life moves and changes, and you must evolve with it.

This isn't a farewell; it's a makeover.

I've been thinking a lot about this other blog that I enjoy so much. And I've realized: I don't care if she has a recipe or a lesson or an article or a finished project to share; I just like seeing her life. And my enjoyment of it spurs a desire to join, to participate - that old drive toward community that was the hallmark of the blogging community back in the early 2000s, the DIY aesthetic applied to a virtual platform. And this also constitutes an aesthetic practice: learning to create content that hits just the right tone, that satisfies something I've been seeking out from others. I haven't spent a lot of time experimenting with form lately; mostly I've just been helping other people to hone theirs. This is a vital, energetic process - and I think it's an important practice for me to cultivate on a more regular basis.

So, while I don't really do New Year's resolutions, as such, I do think that in 2016, I want to be more active here, just in a different way. More regular glimpses, such as these snaps from a sunny winter's walk along (and on) some frozen wetlands ponds. Probably not so many posts as long (wordy) as this, but we'll see.

stones for my hair

I saw this beautiful photo of an Elemental Child crystal crown tucked into a French twist last year and wanted to do something similar. Only, since I'm unlikely to put my hair up into a French twist (ever - I usually do a pile of sculptural curls at the nape of my neck, if I do anything at all), I decided to separate mine into individual combs.

This is the first set I made. I haven't worn them yet (no occasion for fancy updos when one is moving!), but I hope to, soon. I'm debating whether I'll tuck these into my hair at my workplace's fundraising gala in October  - the alternative would be donning my favorite fascinator/tiny pillbox hat from Spain. Ah well, the holidays bring plenty of opportunities to play dress-up (and I intend to take advantage of them!).

I plan to dabble with a few more of these in the future; I have smaller crystals to try (I wanted my first set to mimic the scale of the original photo as much as possible, though), and diminuitive one-inch-wide combs, to experiment with scale. Using both might yield darling results for a child!

stopping time, moving forward

tart cherry preserves - a taste of my childhood!

Ugh. Once again, where has the time gone? Well. I have been making things and taking photos all this long, hot, dry summer. I just haven't taken the next step of culling and editing photos and posting. I also feel like I've barely been keeping my head above water with the making.

Part of it's the heat; look at the grass in that top photo - little straw-twigs! This summer was a prolonged battle of attrition to try and keep the garden alive. It was more work and money than it was worth and eventually I threw up my hands and said, "I give up."

It was the right choice. And now that some more seasonable weather has returned (three good drenching storms in a 3-week period), I feel like I've had a little more time to gather myself and get things done. So I sat down yesterday morning and culled a bunch of photos to put together a couple of posts.

I found tart cherries at the U District Farmer's Market (thanks to a tip from my awesome neighbour) and made preserves - well, more of a low-sugar pie filling, really. I was only able to get 2 lbs of cherries, so these won't be shared, because after you remove the pits, the 2 lbs have pretty much become 1 lb and it's just not enough!! These are for turnovers or eating on English muffins this fall, and reminisces about the mature tart cherry tree I grew up with. (More on that in a moment.)

blackcurrant preserves!

At one point this summer, I walked into Ballard Market and there were flats of blackcurrants for just $10. I took one and went through the laborious process of picking all the bits of stems and flower ends off them - and then I made delightful blackcurrant jam. I have given lots of these away already, sharing the bounty, but there should be a few left at the holidays. I also baked the leftover preserves (when I ran out of jars to pack them into) into a completely heavenly vegan coffee cake (I had some stress this summer and my doctor ordered me off dairy - it took about three weeks for things to level out, and I started getting creative with the vegan baking). 

And now, back to that little note about the cherry tree of my childhood. I've bought one for my own garden: a Northstar. It's supposedly self-dwarfing, only growing 8-10' tall and wide, able to be netted and harvested without a giant ladder, resistant to cracking and brown rot, and when mature, producing plenty of fruit for a family of four. We only have two in our family, but I definitely eat more than my fair share of tart cherries - as a child and teen, these were the only fruits I would eat to the point of allergic reaction: when my grandparents visited and my grandpa brought jars of tart cherry sauce, I'd eat it all day ... until I broke out in hives on my wrists and inner forearms. I'd take a cold shower and put on calamine lotion before bed ... and in the morning I'd start all over again - no regrets!!

And where will we put this tart cherry tree? Well, we'll put it in our new garden that we're going to build ... in our new home. Cass and I have become homeowners - finally! - for the first time in our lives. I expect the tone of this blog will shift toward more decorating, gardening, and home repair/upgrade projects in the future, but for now we're living in boxes as we can't start moving until Tuesday.

And maybe the new home will be just the prod I need to get back into the swing of things here. Let's hope so - because Pacific Rain has been languishing this summer!!