Friday, September 30, 2011

Calm. Peaceful.

Calm.  Peaceful.  Birds singing (those little grey ones).  Sunlight splashing around.

I am catching up on a tiny few housekeeping chores.  Letting the calm wash over me.

They say a storm is making its way towards our area.  The first one of the Season, three weeks earlier than usual.  Of course, we know, usual has gone the way of normal.  Doesn't seem to carry much weight.

Harvest (grapes) is in full, frenetic swing.  The weekend has enough venues piled high to exhaust even the hard-core attendees.  I believe I am going to prepare the winter bed for greens and cabbage.

Dirt is very soothing.

Love you.


Tuesday, September 27, 2011

I love you, regardless.

What a summer this has been.  Maybe not so different from any other, yet increasingly, I feel time whizzing by me as though I missed the jet-stream.  The wave of life curls over me, thrashes me, rolls me up on to the beach frazzled, dizzy, and bedazzled by the momentum.  (Yeah, I just couldn't resist all those Zs.)

To begin, I wonder how my little Rebekah (#1 Granddaughter) all of a sudden is looking over the top of my head.  Yes, I could become maudlin over this feat, which took her a mere 13 years to accomplish.  Her baby sister, Mary, is 10.  I am beginning to feel that this is unfair.

Pour another cup of coffee.  Add a slip of cream.  Sip.

No.  A life rich with all of this is not unfair.  Cannot be measured in dollars, or even in time.  Perhaps this is from whence the word "immeasurable" springs.

I have been contemplating what freedom means to me.  This morning a crisp breeze blew through the fig tree in the back yard.  The sun was not over the ridge yet, the figs looked like black dots.  I drew water for the coffee, my thoughts trailed off towards a maze of "what ifs."  Mind does that, you know. Just takes off without consideration of peace-of-mind, or belief, or faith.  Increasingly, it is all up to me to reign in unruly mind with a firm hand.  Bring it back to this moment.  The clear water streaming into the pot, circling the bottom, churning up in the center.  Fresh.  Clear.

If I were one of the thousands of women in jail, I would not be standing here at a kitchen window, contemplating freedom, or the slow dawn illuminating black figs dancing with the breeze.

It is easy for me to understand ways of animals, migrations, radish seeds.  I am able to start a painting with little regard for where it may take me; curiosity compels me to stay with it through the whole process.  Human behavior, on the other hand, is a complete mystery, and not altogether a pleasant one.

I am warming up.  I haven't written for too long.  I feel a little rusty, creaky, shy.  How do writers just burst out with truth and honesty?  How do you say I love you and have it mean anything?

What exactly do I want it to mean, I love you?  I want safety, kindness, consideration, something secure, something I can count on.  And I think I want that for you, too.  When I say I love you, I am believing on some level that you are agreeing with me, and knowing what I am thinking/feeling/believing.  And this is where things start to fall apart.  Of course.  For starters, you may be thinking/etc a whole lot of other things; like how to get more, or mine, or theirs.

 Many insects and animals live in colonies, or hives, or nests, and work together collectively.  Their common purpose is survival.  We judge them as simple, complex, whatever.  We think we are the smart ones, the ones with God, enlightenment, we can read and drive cars.  We are the ones.  Special.

Cooperation.  Collaboration.
Mmmmm.  I am getting warmed-up.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Fire Season Warm-up

Having a nice, relaxing morning this week past,  I was distracted by the unmistakable "bonk bonk bonk" of the helicopter blades chopping through the clear sky.  Looking out my front window I saw blue smoke rising from the pine and oak covered hill north of us.

So of course, I grabbed my camera, and oh yeah!  My shoes. And out I went.  I blame my son-in-law for this kind of behavior.  Never in my wildest dreams would I have "chased a fire" before I knew him.

The connection being that he is a volunteer fire fighter, so now and then I have to run down a fire or two, just to be in conversation with him.  This can keep us out of politics for a few moments.  Out of hot water, so to speak.  In the frying pan, rather than jumping out into the fire.

The helicopter was flapping and dipping its bucket into the river and bringing it back and dumping it on the fire on the hill.  I scooted through the vineyards for a closer shot, and the 'copter started dumping water to create its own landing place.  You can see that the fire is mostly out.

This is Thomas.  His 6th birthday Pirate Treasure Hunt, and he is directing & figuring things out.  He is remarkably similar to his firefighter dad and his Uncle Skyler, replete with rosy sweaty cheeks and all-business approach to finding treasure.

Anyways, it was fun to watch.  

And then, it landed.  As though it settled into the vineyard.  Look at the cloud of dust!

My daughter Sarah scolded me for "chasing" after the fire fighters.  She worries about my getting in the way.  Well, I am here to tell you that I stay clear of the likes of these.  Serious:  I do not really chase fires.  If they are in my front yard, or the next-door vineyard, I do have to go out and get my scoop, it's only natural.  I have to plan my next step, you know.  Steps, if I have to get out of Dodge.

So, since it is Sept 12, 2011, and I have these photos up, I will say that I appreciate these men.  They are hard working, well trained teams.  They fly into rough terrain and get out and put their own life on the line.  We all expect them to show up when we "need" them to do so, and most often they do.  We expect miracles, and they usually deliver.  It is important to remember the men and women who have served and do serve their communities and country as fire fighters, ambulance drivers, helicopter pilots, fire bomber pilots, truck drivers, ditch diggers, water haulers.  It's a long list which I cannot even complete, but I am grateful for each and every one of them.



script type="text/javascript" src="">