LARABEE

Prelude

2012-02-01T11:08:00.000-08:00

Yes, here in N. Calif., we are experiencing one of our weird winters. And, yes. I am loving it, for I chafe under the discomforts of cold, wet winters, much preferring "strangely warm" days in January! I notice that Manzanita blooms mid winter, to remind us that Spring is gathering herself together, and will burst forth in poppy orange, lupine purple, and a multitude of colors within the spectrum. Recently I saw a whole flock of Western Bluebirds, flashing a blue more pure than sky.

I love these lantern shaped little pinks. They make me maudlin. Did you ever read The Little People books? I love that they live behind the reality of the big people, their homes accessible through the cracks in the baseboards. When I see these flowers in the spring, I am sure that the little people illuminate their cozy little homes with them.

In a sacred manner they have sent voices.

Half the universe has sent voices.

In a sacred manner they have sent voices to you.

heyoka from Black Elk Speaks

What I have not understood has to do with the Nature of Things. How life is. How my tears and sorrow are part of the fabric of things. How even discomfort is sacred.

Sometimes I think that I spend an inordinate amount of time staring at Things. Yes, this is the way of an artist, this one anyways. Like I am memorizing a moment, a sense, even a silhouette or shadow breath movement. Recognising plants, birds and animals from my past, most likely from my past's past. Like Raven, looking down at me looking up at her. She knows, like Manzanita knows.

And there is nothing to do about it.

Love,

LPC

Odds & Ends. Essence.

2012-01-17T14:37:00.000-08:00

Ran out to the car to grab up the camera. The light was streaming into the studio in a most bright and cheerful way; hurry. Took the photo. Things in the studio are changing. There is no hanging back, no hesitating. Time is of the essence. There isn't even anything to let go of, if you can imagine that. Cliche run amuck. Everything ever said has been said already. In a thousand languages.

Download the photos, to find a charming group of images. I stare at things. Hungry, I guess, for the essence of whatever. Like the pigeons: I was putting gas in my car and was staring at the insulators and wires and the height of the pole and the blue sky. White. White round pigeon breasts. Life on the wires. Notice how pigeons always land just the right distance from one another? No one is crowded or knocked off. That I know of, at any rate. Reminds me of Starlings zooming en masse and not crashing. Around here humans run over one another, well the ones in cars run over the ones in shoes, or on bicycles. Sorry. There I went.

There are many ways to God. At this time, my way is staring at things. At color. Negative space. Line. Whisper. Clouds way so high I can't really see them, so the blue serves the purpose. Stare. Quiet. Notice that God has not gone anywhere.

Winter cold day, with rain approaching. What holds me back? Away from taking on the difficult? Writing this morning and yesterday, too, the question haunts me. I do not like not-knowing the answer or the outcome. My early training was to keep it to myself, which turned into a weird timidness in adulthood. The writing has exposed the fable of early-childhood, how those beliefs which took hold and morphed into fact aren't, really. Today's writing opened the door to more "true circumstance." I hold back out of some fear, some consideration of others, some more fear. I hold back so that those damn fears don't come true, or turn into frustrating tears.

Life is a prayer. Underlying the "true circumstance" is the True Circumstance. Purpose comes with the gift of life. Listening to birdsong,wind or the coyote howl thrills me. Packing in the wood, hauling out the compost and ashes keep me focused. Feeling sorrow, love, gratitude remind me that I am human, and alive.

And this is some of what's happening from the light shining into the studio.

Thank you for your love and steady presence.

xoxo
LPC

Portrait

2012-01-01T14:21:00.000-08:00

In a way

every

portrait

self

portrait.

***

xoxo

LPC

Cozy Rainy Day

2011-12-30T12:03:00.000-08:00

I am responsible for dinner tonight. So, I've soaked the beans, and now they are simmering in the Sierra Nevada Pale Ale that I borrowed. And, I am back up here in my window seat, happy as a clam. Took a hot tub in the rain (ah, bliss). The people are all settled in for a rainy day with books, puzzles, more books, movies I've never heard of before, yarn for knitting, books and enough food and beverages for an army. It is quiet, and then conversation and laughter breaks out. I have been carrying the #3 Dragon Girl book around for at least three months. Cannot seem to get into this last one. Maybe tomorrow?

Photography for today is on hold. But I am burrowing into fearless Creating, by Eric Maisel, Ph.D. The format of the book is to read, then to write into the meditations/suggestions. Oh my. Big stuff. This morning, about possessing an idea that you've (I've) wanted to work on for the longest time already..."The one that you're sure someone else has already done a better job with, and so reject?" There is no (NO) good reason to reject an idea you've long harbored, he says, like he is sitting here in my window seat with me. "Bring it back... Dust it off. Remember that choosing is anxiety-provoking and that the anxiety of this stage is confused mind anxiety. Accept your confused mind... For now, just dust it off, honor it, think about it, cherish it." Omg. Are you kidding? Then he says, "With a fresh (albeit confused) mind, look again at the idea that you've long wanted to pursue. Name it again..."

Oh, Goddess!! This gets uncomfortable. That old idea has been shelved for, umm. Decades. Arggh.

Look! My sweet, giant, restless Muse. She is pounding in the rain. Frothing, bubbling, roaring. She is right there when my eyes rise from the page. Moving, changing, ferocious, constant, ancient and completely renewed. She doesn't honor convention (doesn't need a horizon today), she keeps her own time, she invents landscape and seascape, she destroys and starts over. She carries nutrients, swirls with current, creates wind.

She sends her scent up and over the cliff to me. Seaweed, surf, wet, slippery and drenching. Come, she says. No fear stands between you and I. Only love.

Mmmmm. This is getting good.
xoxoLPC

Love the Coast

2011-12-29T17:26:00.000-08:00

It is gray out here. Soothing. Calming. Cozy. Fog down to the ground. Drizzle. No horizon, just foreground. The surf is pounding, rumbling, just over the cliff. I love it here. Wet. Muted. Quiet.

Summer grasses tangle with blackberry vine. Fog gathers in creased blade. Crystal orbs group to drip into Earth, seep back to the Ocean. An awesome system. In place. Constant. Infinite.

Ebb. High tide slams into rock, sprays white and salty. Crashes over black in white froth and foam.

This is not my palette. But I am fascinated. Movement, rushing sound. Focusing through the lens of the camera composes a canvas, a thought. Beneath the surface of the wave are blues, turquoise, and gray reflection from the sky, which is down to, and included in the water. It's a poem in the making. A page in the writing. Love in motion.

See the little kelp? Living right there. Taking a daily beating. Happily? Perhaps: it has it's real estate, its exercise, its nutrition. But but but does that equal happy? I see no ipad, no bank on the next rock, no improved kelp, no cathedral, no school, no BMW, no tears, no squabbles. There is family. Community. Sharing the rock, several rocks covered with these kelpies. I mean kelp. Kelpies is a whole 'nother subject.

Tell me. How does happy feel to you?

Loving you. Yes.
xoxo
LPC

Holiday Programs

2011-12-21T09:34:00.000-08:00

After several failed attempts at capturing the seasonal pageants, I just focused on my Beloveds. One Kindergartner (no name, haha!) transported me to when my youngest was of this age. Well, one must admit that all the excitement and preparation, and late night, and Goodness Knows where dinner was last, that a Kindergarten Grandson was understandably twitchy!

At the end of the "Holiday Program" last night, I asked this one if I could take her photo, and she replied, "I don't have my costume on!" and went about her way. This turns out to be the bestest photo of the evening! Yes, I have some of her dancing in her awesome costume, but have yet to figure out how to use the Get Rid Of The RedEye feature on iPhoto. Life is a continual learning process.

So, Winter Solstice is upon us. For Californians, it is the driest-in-20+ years December. The frost has sparkled for many mornings. I never seem to get warm, until I've consumed too much coffee. I want to take advantage of the drier weather in the garden, to clean it up, turn the soil, mulch with leaves. But I haven't. I stare into the bare, skeletal trees. I walk way way way out into and around the largest vineyards. The dogs and I go to the Lake. I paint.

And yes, gratitude swells and takes hold. I am grateful.

Loving you.
xoxo
LPC

Gratitudes.

2011-12-14T08:33:00.000-08:00

Kaitlyn

Her Mama

Her brother, Kai

A sunny day, so she can wear her pink mini-skirt

Life

Today

Hugs

Mistletoe

Extra kisses

2 eighty + pound dogs

Family

Music

Rain

2 black & white hens

2 brown eggs

Love

Loving

Being loved

Beloveds

xoxo

LPC

Abstract Horses, Beloveds.

2011-12-13T10:21:00.000-08:00

Whiskers.

Winter Coats.

She is a beautiful Paint. Though this is her one-and-only spot. She's what I would call "roan" but then, I don't know that much about Painted Ponies! I do know that she is such a good Mama, and her youngster is definitely Painted, black w/white.

On the day that I took these photos I was patiently waiting for the Starlings to wing their way back around to us. I wasn't really paying much attention to what I was doing, so was pleasantly surprised to notice that however and whatever I frame-up, there will be an abstract slant to it. Must be how I see things.

These are "the kids." A trainer has been coming out and dressing them all up in saddles, blankets and bridles, and walking them, together, up and down the lane. I love it. Sometimes they are talking with him, with soft lip-smacking nickers. I love that sound. Obviously they are comfortable with him, which reverberates through the perfect little clip-clopping of round hooves.

These are my kids.

Well, you know: daughter & grandkidlets.

Yes, they are impressed that she ran the marathon, early spring.

Her main fan.

A couple of my guys.

Grandpup with Beetle.

Kai!

Kaitlyn! At Uncle Skyler & Auntie Gina's wedding this past June.

Love and hugs.

xoxo

LPC

Me Dogs

2011-12-12T13:07:00.000-08:00

Two faces which make me happy and grumpy, sometimes simultaneously.

I've not spent any time(until August, 2 yrs ago) around a male Labrador. I should've, a long time ago. There is not much on the planet that inspires such belly-laughs, frustration, joy, annoyance and just plain marvel. Anyways, that describes my Emerson. I've said it before, but here it is again, "I love love love him!" He personally brought home at least 7 lbs of sand.

And here is the regal Ms. Luna. She just turned 5! Today I will give her a chicken neck to celebrate, since her birthday was the 10th. Sorry, Big Girl. But she knows, since she is a Sagittarius, that Life Is A Party.

Go ahead, say it! She is beeeeeeeyoutiful!

As long as you are not a chicken or a varmint.

I enjoy accessorizing her. She looks so good in pink and polka dots. She is not too girly-girly, in fact she looks truly pained when I bring out the nail polish. She does love new collars, though.

This is "sit" with an ear towards small game.

Yes, ever so well trained. This is the "down." Long enough for a photo. :-)

This weekend qualified as a most------------------(frustrating, damaging, annoying, exhausting) fill in the blank. Suffice to say that today it feels as though I have a hang-over, and didn't have any fun.

But, I am recovering. Bought chicken food and Kill-the-Damm-Fleas stuff. Got a cup of coffee. Got gas. Drove out to the Lake w/said Dogs. Drank the coffee. Threw the balls. Drove home.

I am grateful for every single moment of Life. Yes. Even bewildered moments.

1. I am grateful for my ever-cheerful dogs.
2. I am grateful for my awe-inspiring daughters.
3. I am grateful for people who never say anything.
4. I am grateful for my camera.
5. I am grateful for my sister.
6, I am grateful for my program.
7. I am grateful for this moment.
8. I am grateful for the fact that I may learn how to forgive in this lifetime.
9. I am grateful for Gratitude.

xoxoLPC

This Isn't Just About Birds

2011-12-09T17:49:00.001-08:00

I took one dog (because the Black Labrador had no manners at the front door, he had to take the march to confinement, and missed out on a ride to find the Starlings), and my camera and took a late afternoon ride. Drove a big loop, ending near where I began, about 5 miles as-a-crow-flies downriver from our house, where the birds were doing their thing. I threw the ball for Luna and watched the sun set behind the coastal mountains, while the Starlings practiced their murmurings.

At times I feel as though I am running as fast as I can go so as to not feel. Of course this is contrary to Life, Purpose, etc., etc., etc. Today I noticed that my spiritual practice doesn't seem to be "working" it appears that I cannot shake this thing, even on an excursion into a sunny day.

My granddaughter has been extremely ill. I have not been brave enough to write about the illness head-on. Now I just want to say that she, and her mother (my youngest daughter, Elisabeth), and her brother Kai, are the bravest people that I know.

So from my ramblings today I have decided, once again, to keep my priorities straight. My lists will serve me, my prayers are noticed. The tender places will always be inhabited.

Elisabeth, has created a blog. Click here: Kaitlyn

Love and hugs.

LPC

House Work

2011-12-06T13:39:00.001-08:00

So. I need to get back to sweeping. Vacuuming. Dusting. Or. Do I?

Love you.

xoxoxo

LPC

A Thing of Beauty, This World

2011-11-25T08:47:00.001-08:00

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. First on my "to do!" list was a trip with dogs out to The Lake. Rain-sign everywhere, from the gray sky to rivulet-trails down the road and beach. Emerson has mentioned recently that he'd be happy if we were to move out there, so he could swim all day, every day. Luna says yeah, she'd go for that too. The Lake is full of coots, those little black water fowl with white frontal shields on their heads. They swim together, looking ahead or to the side in unison, so it looks as though the water is sparkling as they move en masse away from the black Labrador head slicing a V through the deep turquoise water. Someday(!) I will get a photo! When Coots have had enough of this entertainment, they take off, and run on the surface of the water, just out of reach where they settle down again.

Currently I am in love with Spanish Moss and the Oaks. Together they define aesthetic for me, with hue, value, composition, and beauty in perfect balance. Spanish Moss is not one plant or animal. It is a lichen. Hehehee! And now that I look it up, I find that this is not Spanish Moss at all, but Usnea! Well, hay; live and learn is one of my many mottoes. Usnea is very strong medicine. Should you find yourself out there, with a surface wound, wad up a handful of this and put it over the problem. It helps it to heal and sterilizes the area.

I love how it comes alive when the rain soaks it through. Its color enlivens and it seems to grow longer. Just read that the longer length it grows indicates less pollution in the air!

Ok. Enough of the book-learnin'. I just love the stuff. It is appearing in my paintings, both in the ground gesso, and the composition. I am inspired by its color, the way it hangs or drapes over branches. How when the trees lose their leaves the usnea glows. I love the Life of it. It feels as though it loves me, too.

I am Gallery sitting this morning. Spending time with incredible art is healing and inspirational. Hopefully patrons will flood the premises! Yes. Good.

This amazing ceramic piece is one of our guest artists, Jane Gardner's, work. Jane's ceramics reflect her deep connection with the earth and sea. She has developed her glazes to high art: using them as painterly, as surface treatment and as an extension of the clay body.

Kayla Esmond and Michael Smirnov create amazing birdhouse-sculptures from every imaginable found-object, plus a few that are constructed from antique wire, insulators, light bulbs. This is just a small detail of the top of one, but I love it so much in front of my painting. "Something magical is happening in this corner," one visitor told me. Yes.

This morning, on FB, I listed the names of my 7 children. What a beautiful experience! For me, writing, printing, typing, drawing, even painting the letters, is such a heart-connection. Kids may not fully realize until they have their own, of course, just how much they are revered, how they are studied, memorized, adored, petted, yes and worried-over. Of course I am grateful for them in my life, but it is so much more. I do not think that grateful is a big enough word! Now, they have spouses and children, and are each involved in their own full lives. My memories and love continue as my experience.

These are the layers of Life. These are the layers of my art.

Thank you for reading/listening. I love you! xoxoLPC

Calm. Peaceful.

2011-09-30T15:09:00.000-07:00

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.

xoxoLPC

I love you, regardless.

2011-09-27T15:16:00.000-07:00

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.
xoxoLPC

Fire Season Warm-up

2011-09-12T22:55:00.000-07:00

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.

Miracles.

xoxoLPC

Busy Moon and Stuff

2011-08-30T16:01:00.000-07:00

True, she says, I have not even looked at my blog for too long. Maybe she doesn't even know me anymore.

So much has gone on, and now Queen Summer subsides; the nights are longer, dawn comes later. I am waking up to the dark. How can this be? I have yet to jump in the river, it's not been warm enough. My heirloom tomatoes are just 'coming on', the pumpkins gave up, as did the Butternut squash. An odd gardening year, for sure.

The Moon Is Also Busy

I bow to God in gratitude,

And I find the moon is also busy

Doing the same.

I bow to God in great happiness,

And I learn from where the suns

And the children

And my heart

All borrow their Light.

I bow to the Friend in deep reverence

And discover a marvelous secret carried in the air:

This whole Universe is just as blessed

And divinely crazed as I,

And just as lost in the Wonderful Holy Dance.

My dear,

After such a long, long journey,

God has mad another soul

Free!

Now all Hafiz wants to do

Is open a beautiful Tavern

Where this Sacred Wine

Of God's Truth, Knowledge and Love

Is forever and ever

Freely offered to you.

O bow to God in gratitude,

And some day

You will see how

The moon is also busy doing the same.

***

Hafiz

My paintings. My friend, Hafiz wrote the poem, his friend, Daniel Ladinsky translated.

Yes, let us do this again, soon. Fun!

Love you.

xoxoLPC

I Love Eagles.

2011-07-15T18:15:00.000-07:00

Approaching the Summer Bridge, I scan the sky, the water, the gravel bar, and back to the sky. A large silhouette lumbers up river, towards me. I glance back at the road, then raise my eyes to what I was really hoping for: osprey? No, way bigger. Can it be the Bald Eagle? By now I am on the wrong side of the dirt road, my vehicle aimed at the gravel berm, and I notice that there is a car behind me. Yes, kind of on my bumper. So I drive like I know how, find a place to legitimately pull over, flip a U and go back, park where it says not to, and dig the camera out of the basket. I get out, use the steel gate as a tripod and take a few photos, none of which, when I upload them, are clear. But I don't care.

This is the first time that I have had my camera within reach when I've seen the Eagles. They take my breath away. Give me hope.

Once, out at the Lake, we were returning from an exhausting paddle, having gone too far and the wind had come up to make it even harder. I was grumbling along behind Wayne, wishing I had such long arms and strong biceps as him, so I could paddle better and be ahead, when a motion just above my head drew my attention upward. There, going in the same direction as us (into the wind), a Bald Eagle so close that I could see its feathers, its yellow eye, its amazing beak. It seemed to hang a bit with us, then with powerful strokes, left us to our slow-going struggle: Land Lubbers.

I have been watching, on a daily basis, a live-stream web cam that is set up in a nest north of Vancouver Island. For instance, it is raining there today, and the eaglets (there are two) are a little wet and bedraggled. The amazing journey of these magnificent birds is awe inspiring. The eaglets' antics seem so endearing, and I admittedly make everything kind of pet-like. They are not pets. They are a species on the edge of survival, as the resources upon which they depend are in peril. Humans are really messing up, destroying the environment with horrifying efficiency. It is a major miracle that this eagle family is still intact, that the youngsters are this far along.

I keep my eye on them all day (when I am home), check on them when I hear them screeching, because I know now what it sounds like when the parents are zooming in. The man who runs the web cam is a sage in the Eagle world, but I can only imagine his heavy heart in watching the environmental destruction unraveling the ecosystem around him. I feel it too.

Eagles at Hornby Island

Despair is not my job. I admit that I am often unsure what in the hell to do. Yes: Prayer leads me, most often into this place of not knowing what to do: I seem so powerless.

So here is what I did today, and my heart opened, lifted. I tuned in to the Eagle Cam. I laughed at their antics, their wild flapping and hopping. I watched them watch for their parent, craning their heads in unison, keeping their eye on Mom when she lands in the branches above them. I watched them shake water off themselves. I let myself meld into their rhythm, slow down. I allow time to stop, allow Eagle essence into my consciousness, just for a moment. And it starts to happen: I can feel the wet air, the gray sky down to the water, water everywhere dripping from the giant mother tree. I hear the Raven. The Eagles know. To be Eagle, do what eagles do, teach the eagle way to the youngsters. Know that all is well.

Thank goodness. That's all I've got to say about that.

xoxoLPC

Luna at the Lake

2011-07-14T09:41:00.000-07:00

Title: At the Lake Not Listening to Mom for the Moment

Of course, she does change course, make a big loop, and come back to the point, er, the sit. Ms. Luna is 4 &1/2 years old, and this posting is a celebration of her.

Look closely, and you see the green of the tennis ball, fragmented by the experience of being thrown into the brink. Well, little ball, you ain't seen nuthin yet.

Can all hell break loose in the water? Probably, if one considers Great White Shark.

Great Speckled Luna.

How blessed I am to have a Luna friend. She is thriving with her regime of raw food, leash-walks, occasional rides in the car, controlled trips to the Lake. She loves her "kids," doesn't pay much mind to any others. She and I both are recovering from the deep winter traumatic experience. I have found much comfort in Trish and Lisa's instructions: protect her. In a profound way, I was given permission to take care of her, to make decisions about her, to take control.

Keeping Watch

In the morning

When I began to wake,

It happened again--

That feeling

That You, Beloved,

Had stood over me all night

Keeping watch,

That feeling

That as soon as I began to stir

You put Your lips on my forehead

And lit a holy Lamp

Inside my heart.

***

Hafiz

***

And, for this I am very very grateful

xoxoLC

Assortment of Wedding Images

2011-06-16T17:29:00.000-07:00

What I know today is that I could have that Party go on for months. No kidding. I love having all of my kids in one spot, with their spouses, friends, children, laughter, teasing, whining, joking. Whatever. I love it.

Groom's Guys, with their now-famous footwear. Notice: Thomas has flames.

Count-down to the ceremony: Skyler being pinned to his boutonniere. So cute.

Loved the hammer with the German Chocolate Cake. Yep. I made that.

I didn't get enough photos of the Bride & Groom, so I have been hijacking them from other's postings. That must be ok.

Everything was beautiful. Even the beer looked magical.

A peek under the table.

All the Groom's Guys in a row, custom-ordered Vans.

A small visitor to remind us of Grandma Mary's presence.

Known to the little brothers as The Sisters... giving a toast that brought us belly-laughs and tears.

This is one of many hilarious shots of this group. I love them! Though this whole series, Gina the Bride stayed composed and smiling, while the Tribe carried on as usual.

The Party is over. Newly-weds are in Hawai'i. Guests and families gone back to their normal(!) lives. The beautiful grounds are back in the hands of the Chickadees, Quail, Owls and other wildlife. Most likely one can hear the surf. The fog will roll over the hill and smother Tomales Bay with softness. It was beautiful. I feel a little melancholy in gentle waves. I miss being The Mom, waking them up, driving them all over and back again, feeding them, laughing with them, bossing them, threatening them, putting them to bed and starting all over again. Of course there were tensions, never enough money, personality crashes and various disasters. But still, or should I say, AND still; I loved every day.

Life today, now, is good. Of course there are moments when the past seems so agreeable. And I am grateful for all of it. Then, Now, and what's coming.

Really grateful.
xoxoLC

Wedding Preparation Photos

2011-06-14T09:28:00.000-07:00

The practice run: had to move the 'maids to the other side, so they didn't sink down the hill.

Bride and Groom with many many many cranes.

Red shoes. Dirty socks.

Gina the Bride is a shoe-girl.

Gina the Beautiful Bride. At the Dinner.

Seth, Brother of the Groom.

Skyler the Groom, surrounded by all that Love.

Uncle Bob talks with his hands, so his nieces clean up after him.

Sisters and cousins of the Groom, some doing a minor 'crashing of the Party.

Blogger says "that's all for now," and I will add more later. Suffice for now to say, it was a colorful, bright, happy day.

xoxo

Wedding Weekend Moments Away

2011-06-07T12:30:00.000-07:00

While illegal contraband bakes in my oven (A German Chocolate Cake, 3 layers), I am going to take a quick moment here and write you a note. I am making the German Chocolate cake for the Bride & Groom, as they are creating a table of delicious favorite baked goods to share with their guests, and they asked me to contribute. At first I howled, No, I caaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnn't and then reconsidered, because, after all, this is their party. Today is cake-making-day. Lower caps. No big deal.

Except... yes, there are always exceptions, and this is one of them. See here to see my main reason for the no-baking rule: I got my fanny back, and do not want to relinquish it! BUT, when it all comes down to baking a sweetness for my youngest and his bride, I'm gonna do it.

Good news, as of this moment: it is cooling on the counter, 3 beautiful layers, next step, they go into the freezer: to be assembled Friday.

See the 1000 Cranes. Dev has organized and folded a gillion of these beauties. She is stringing them, and they will hang in the Circle of Oaks where her little brother is getting married. Yes. Amazing.

So, you most likely will not hear from me for a few days. Haha. I have gotten v.e.r.y. busy and occupied over the past two months. Maybe after the Wedding, I will be back at my writing. Yes. This is possible. The sun is out today, promising a beautiful day for Saturday. My garden winks at me, the Borage and Bees nodding in the warm breeze. I cannot go out there without a timer to bring me back inside to the job-list, as you see, I have little memory left. It is highly probable that I would be found wandering down at the River, picking up beautiful, smooth stones and smuggling them into my pocket.

Have a wonderful week. I love you.
xoxoLC

Butterflies and Buckeye with Hafiz

2011-05-25T15:50:00.000-07:00

Coming down the mountain after a romp at The Lake, I noticed Buckeye Blossoms right at my level. So I pulled over the vehicle, grabbed the camera and walked back up the road. What a surprise to find that there were butterflies all over the place! Busy with sticking their noses deep into the fragrance and brilliant white flowers, they didn't seem to notice me zooming into their breakfast world.

Imagine this as your kitchen counter. Nice to fly away when satiated. No need to scrape dishes, take out the compost, wash dishes, sweep the floor. Just flutter to the next diner. Might make metamorphosis worth it, no?

I Took It as a Sign

Someone sent a band to my house,

And it started playing

At five in the morning.

I took this as a sign

God wanted me to sing!

Then the moon joined in

And a few of the tenor-voiced stars,

And the earth offered its lovely belly

As a drum.

Before I knew it,

I realized

All human beings could be happy

If they just had a few music lessons

From a Sweet Old Maestro

Like Haviz.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Haviz

Love you all over this blustery Spring Day!

xoxoLC

Are We Ready?

2011-05-19T14:07:00.000-07:00

Eeeeewwww. No, I do not like these, either. Even though I do admire their tenacity and work ethic. Maybe they even have the perfect political system, you know, autocratic dictator monarchy. I doubt that they have tea parties on the side, or revolutions, or even scholastic debates. But then, I do not know this: They may really have a perfectly good system. Ha ha. I am sure that the day after tomorrow, when everything ends, that they will still be scurrying around doing what they do, with not an eyelash disturbed. Apparently they haven't sinned enough to be disturbed.

I stopped my car yesterday, with intention to photograph a flock of cliff swallows fluttering in a roadside puddle. They looked like butterflies, all fairy motion and soft colors. I pulled off the pavement, gathered up my camera, and snuck up on them. They flew off, circled back around, and left, every one of them. I thought, fine, I'll just sit here and wait. They won this round. I really really really want to catch them doing this mud gathering. I noticed again this morning, this gathering in the puddle, but I was in too much of a hurry to stop. You know, with the end of the world imminent, it is imperative to complete one's list. Note to self: it is exquisite to sit in the sun and wait for swallows.

Who would live in that little box on a pole at the top of the knoll? A troll?

What happens when lightening strikes?

Storms have been blowing through our landscape, creating splendor making it difficult to drive in a straight line. Fortunately all of the little country roads lead to where I am trying to go, so, eventually the destination becomes a reality, not just an endless journey. No wonder I am not an ant.

This morning, before I was awake, so I didn't even know it was happening, a brisk and cool wind came up and blew open the front door.

Luna Dog was asleep in her chair. I am sure that she looked up, sleepy-eyes long gone, and noticed a grand opportunity. Oh yes. All she had to do was bang the screen door, and freedom would extend its morning promise to her, kind of like life is a bowl of cherries, or something of that nature. So, she calmly slipped out of her chair and did it; seized the opportunity.

Wild Man was asleep, until he heard the screen door bounce against the side of the house. He leapt, in one 80lb bounce, using Wayne as the launching pad, onto the rug next to the bed. In desparation to catch up with Luna, he hurled himself into the livingroom, gaining no traction on the slick floor. This is when Wayne and and I woke up: the noise was deafening, what I would imagine rolling up the floor would sound like, using hammers, winches and scraping tools. When we arrived, to find the door waving in the wind, chairs askew, rugs piled in the hallway, the obvious conclusion was that the dogs had escaped.

Now. I am wondering. What are they escaping from? They are not mistreated, they have food, shelter, cars, their needs are met every moment of every day. What is the problem?

Oh. I forgot. The world ends the day after tomorrow. There are cats to chase, chickens to frighten. There is barely-light early morning. There is feeling every muscle put to the pursuit of careening down the lane.

Oh. I am seeing a lesson forming here: What am I going to do DO for these last remaining days? I had better get busy.

I love you.
xoxoLPC

Very Late Mother's Day Post

2011-05-14T17:45:00.000-07:00

A Rose Garden. Why didn't I ever take Mary Carmelita Paine out there? Realistically, she did not spend enough time in our town to get her there, as she was usually driving straight-through to Nevada, stopping only long enough for a cup of instant Folgers coffee. That woman had an iron constitution. For the second year in a row, we have celebrated Mother's Day at the Russian River Rose Garden, a dazzling place at this time of year. Of course, we wander and bump into each other, admire the blooms, and reminisce about MCP; my Mom, my kid's Gramma Mary. We miss her. Maybe she's touring the gardens with us? We know for certain when certain mischievous thoughts enter our minds, or we trip over unseen obstacles, or a honey bee lands in our hair. She is with us.

The Garden has heirloom Iris as well. Oh. It is easy to see God at work in a Garden, no?

A nice man helped me round up this crew, got them to bunch up, and took a photo for us! Thanks! No pinching, biting and very little grumbling. Yay!

Glorious, I say.

And I am now up-and-running over here : The new blog is my "official & and professional" website for my art. I am still learning the crazy wonders of Wordpress: I am here to tell you, it is slightly complicated. So please visit, say hi, and be patient while I clamber up this learning curve!

Just wait, I say. One of these days I will have an ipad.

xoxoLC

Fabulous Friday

2011-04-29T11:46:00.000-07:00

I have spoken of the frenetic goings on of these past weeks. It continues. I embrace this, and realize that stress arises, even when you're having tons of fun and excitement in life. Does the Dogwood feel a similar tightening as it lets go into full-flowered brilliance?

This purple wonder is blooming on Sarah's fence. She says it's three years old! I say, what a marvel (having not noticed it for the past two years)! She is busy too, sewing six Little Indian tunics for First Grade Performers. Thank Goddess for sewing-stashes, Berninas and can-do-it Creativity! Oh yes, and coffee.

I have set up a blog for my artwork over at Word Press. When I am more up-and-running I will do a post here with more information and a link! Ha! The Learning Curve has been steep, more like a cliff than a curve. Word Press is not easy, though it has some very interesting possibilities. I have registered my domain. I am making myself snort and laugh with this vocabulary, I mean really. Register that domain. The simple truth is that if you do not, when you decide you really want to, or need it... ta-taaaaa! It's gone. Or better yet, it's for sale. That's right. Some one will SELL you your own self. Capitalism at its finest: take the free out of freedom.

Sonoma County unfurls at this time of year into a colorful splendor of wave after wave of wildflowers. These are the colors in my current painting series. I am loving stopping to stare at the flamboyant combinations Mother Goddess flings about the fields and roadsides. The upcoming Wedding's (I know, I haven't done a post about this, either!) "colors"are orange and pink, maybe red, too? Oooo. It is all going to be so gorgeous.

Emerson is having his first Gallery Experience, right now. He walked well from the car to here, only pulling badly once or twice. He smelled everything inside, including the other Gallery Dog's (Phoenix & Peanut) food and water dishes, and bed, and did NOT pee on anything! Whooo hoo! We are making big progress, as the nut-Labbie grows up. He is whining now and then, as I have him in his crate while I'm chatting with you, but he is doing a fabulous job of being a Good Dog!

When we were young, we called this "Rattlesnake Grass." These flowers become seeds, and yes, they rattle in the wind even now so young and green: Adding these soft hues with burgundy to my palette.

This weekend, starting tonight, must be one of the most busiest on record. Major Events are piled on top of one another from one end of the area to the other. How to manage? Just jump in, I say.

Where ever you are, I am hoping that you are caught up in joy, laughter, and love. Remember to share your beautiful smile.

Hugs.
xoxoLC

Marvelous Monday

2011-04-25T17:00:00.000-07:00

I am working these days, with a sort of frenzy about me. Must get this done, N.O.W. "Get it while the getting is good," my Mother used to say. Of course, she said this in reference to picking fruit at the exact right moment of ripeness, or a blossom at its perfection, or snatching a cookie right out from under your nose.

Spring is sprung here, in N. California. Dogwoods are spackling the wild woods with bright white. The Buckeye is all leafed-out, many already sending their flower spikes upward. Little League is in full swing. Orioles building nests, whistling while they weave. Nature supports me in my hurry.

I've begun a new painting, well, I began it a few months ago, but it feels as though it is renewed in its development. Yesterday it became pink. A color I do not ever remember using as a serious color. Let's not judge at this juncture. Pink. Anyways, I like pink.

A Self Portrait.

A few nights ago the rain doused all the rosey blooms with clear pearls.

Morning light sparkling, reminding me of my affinity for spirals. Mother Nature loves Spirals.

I love you.

xoxoLC

You'll Have a Blast

2011-04-16T16:19:00.000-07:00

Often I load photos, and start the writing. The images tend to lead, I type as quickly as possible to keep up the with flying ideas. I talk in my head faster than I can type. Often a day presents me with multiple gifts of insight, memories, inspiration, tears, laughter.

Each of my three daughters has two children, and a blessing for which I am grateful on a daily basis is that I am able to see these Grandchildren often, and yesterday one spent most of the day with me. This One's name is Annie, she is seven.

Yes. She reminds me of her Mama. Completely. Even looks practically just like her. Is it one of the perils of being Grandmother that I compare every little twinkle in the eye with one of my own children? Or maybe, just maybe, it is one of the joys of being at this vantage point on the proverbial "hill."

Leaves are popping out right and left. If I stand and stare, I swear that I can see them unwrinkling, opening their little factories to the Spring sun, revving up their engines for the work at hand. Do you know that this morning, while I was on the phone with my Cousin Up North that the Mockingbird was splashing in the fountain, the Oriole sipping at his feeder, 15 Hummers were zooming, a bright red pair of House Finches singing and nibbling seeds with various brightly feathered sparrows and a Blue Jay, not to mention a pair of sunbathing Quail and two Ring Necked Doves, were all in my front yard? They were, all at the same time.

Annie and I buried a Robin, and she took over the grave decorating duties, with rather spectacular results, including a prayer written from A to Z. Like I said, she really reminds me of her mother.

Yes. Totems appear when one allows children into their life. Mystical. Mysterious. Powerful. No, there is no explanation, nor scientific reasoning, or anything. They just appear.

Yeah. It's true. C'mon over.
xoxoLC/Nonie

Exquisite

2011-04-13T12:57:00.000-07:00

One of my kids is 26 today. My First Son, fourth baby, born on a spring day. He was quite the miracle, being born into a family of five already-there sisters. Brave little fellow, no? For quite a few years he was the most fabulous, though now and then a rascally, pet. We were all so amazed at how he was such a BOY! And yes, being a seasoned mother of daughters, I am here to report that boy babies are much different than girl ones, and I don't just mean their gender. This little man roared when he cried. No. My girls did not sound like that at all. He stomped on bugs. No. The girls collected and cared for bugs, or threw things up in the air and took off in dramatic flight.

I spoke with him this morning. Teased him about his rotten choice of MLB team; we always laugh when we talk. He is hoping for a Berry Cobbler for his birthday, but he is out of luck, since I have quit baking altogether (and lost 28+lbs!). Wow. It is just hard to believe that he is 26. Kind of mind-boggling, if you don't mind my saying so.

Having a typical spring day, with a burst now and then, of sunshine, then dark and blustery with rain, and in it all is the startling beauty of flowers, vineyards, the mountain ranges wearing shadows and new leaves. A vision of heaven on Earth.

Happy Birthday, Seth Owen! You are a Love, and so loved.
Hugs.
Mom

We Are DOING It!

2011-04-09T14:56:00.000-07:00

We may all be familiar with waiting: Wait for dinner. Wait to grow up. Wait for the rain to stop. Wait for summer. Wait for someone to be nice. Wait for the economy to change. Wait to retire. Wait for a war to end (remember when it was the war?). Wait for extra pounds to melt away. Wait for... fill in the blank.

There is nothing wrong with waiting. At times, one must work her way through a large chunk of living before she arrives at a certain place and time. She may have children to raise, chickens to feed, dogs to run, grandchildren to pamper.

I wait, holding my breath, hiding in the drapes to catch the Oriole at the feeder. It seems that all I get are hundreds more shots of the greedy little hummingpigs, which, while entertaining, are not the Oriole. I have been guilty of waiting for a perfect poem, a masterpiece painting, even a certain moment to ask for some little thing, like a hug. Like I said, there is nothing wrong with waiting, if you don't mind waiting longer for that which you desire.

Our friend Hafiz urges us to court the urge, the urge which pushes us towards perfection, expression, to Love and Life. Yes, making the acquaintance of the desire to sing a painting, draw a poem, sew up a sentence, is the spirit behind the creative life.

A group of us have met for a couple of years, reading and studying and practicing The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron. With the support of these dear friends, fellow artists, I have grown into my painting, making it part of my spiritual practice, my art practice, my practice of Being. And from this group, four of us have taken a leap. We are opening a Phantom Gallery! There will be more posts, but for now here is a sneak preview... we have moved in, moved the art work in, and hung it. Suffice to say, IT IS SO EXCITING!!!

Right now, the biggest deal is carving out the hours in my week to be at the Gallery. I mentioned last week to a room full of people, "I have never changed careers. I have only added another and another..." This is another change, and it is so good.

See that rascally little Oriole? He sees my camera, and will not come to his feeder. All day long he hangs out there, until I bring out the camera. Then, he goes off to the highest Palm, or the Cottonwoods, or the Maple. He chirrrrs, and chirps, and stays away. I love him anyway.

Spring is here. Dogwoods are unfurling. We have patches of blue blue sky, occasional balmy days, the hawks and geese are making noise. Life is full. Oh, Yes.

Big Love,
xoxoLC

Sprouts and Hafiz Morning

2011-04-01T09:58:00.000-07:00

Next door things are hopping in the greenhouses. Savory herbs, vegetables and tomatoes are started, some well on their way having been transplanted, already, to the 4" pots. Oh, they are all so beautiful. The rain was hard on all the little growing things. For instance, my salad greens are gone. No poppies, either. Garlic going strong, as well as the potatoes. Fruit trees, as of the last four days, are blooming with abandon. Please don't agree with the weekend forecast: rain.

These are the Beefsteaks. You can tell by their potatoey leaves. Did you know these guys are all related? They are. More closely, even, than that we are all related. Potatoes and Tomatoes are of the 'toe family. Yes. I often get accolades for my scientific vocabulary. Believe me, I get the family-tree concept.

Here are the late bloomers. They are stretching, and that's not the best, but under Jolee's gentle touch, they will all transplant to bigger trays. Today, I believe.

"...as we contemplate change, we often pull back a little and stop rehearsing our lives with our loved ones." J. Cameron This, from my reading this morning. Interesting to consider pulling-in, or back a little, is not in this instance, withdrawing from reality or responsibility. Rather, it is a moment or meditation to be still long enough to discern what is really going on within. For me it takes considerable concentration to be quiet, to listen to the still small voice gain strength and speak. Yes, this practice rewards consistently.

Wildness catapulted to profusion in a few warm days. My walk this morning revealed big buds on the grape vines, which may, by tomorrow, be leaves and tiny flowers. The momentum forward is never really thwarted, no matter how nasty things close-in may look. All this, I suppose, is showing me that to hang on is pointless.

To me it appears that God is just wild about Life. Maybe reading my friend Hafiz' poetry all these years has influenced (oh I hope so!) me. My prayer out in the vineyard this morning, was that I be able to ride this wave of excitement, fear, anticipation with open-hearted tenacity. Then, just now, I found this poem.

A Barroom View of Love

I would not want all my words

To parade around this world

In pretty costumes,

So I will tell you something

Of the Barroom view of Love.

Love is grabbing hold of the Great Lion's mane

And wrestling and rolling deep into Existence

While the Beloved gets rough

And begins to maul you alive.

True Love, my dear,

Is putting an ironclad grip upon

The sore, swollen balls

Of a Divine Rogue Elephant

And

Not having the good fortune to Die!

***

Hafiz

I say yes, to that.

xoxoLC

Second Day of Sunshine!

2011-03-29T17:20:00.000-07:00

I love Spring. This morning, looking out the living room window, I noticed a black heart out in the vineyard. Buzzard Love.

The Quince burst into bloom. They smell spicy. This may be my favorite pink in the whole wide world.

One time I knew this one's name. I seem to remember that it is California's only native sunflower.

Another no-name. Who cares? Aren't you just impressed with how the sky blue rims the petals? I am.

Oh yes. Shooting Stars.

Love love love.

xoxoLC

A Sunny Day, Finally! and a little Hafiz.

2011-03-28T15:38:00.000-07:00

Regardless of untold days of rain rain rain, and hungry slugs, the urge behind blooming persists. It just cannot help itself. Spring is in the air, in the pulse, in the stars.

While I have been slightly gloomy, matched only by gray skies and daily downpours, the blossoms have gathered. POV today: greatly improved.

It's a blue day, missing the blue.

Sends me rummaging for Hafiz!

If It Is Not Too Dark

Go for a walk, it it is not too dark.

Get some fresh air, try to smile.

Say something kind

To a safe-looking stranger, if one happens by.

Always exercise your heart's knowing.

You might as well attempt something real

Along this path:

Take your spouse or lover into your arms

The way you did when you first met.

Let tenderness pour from your eyes

The way the Sun gazes warmly on the earth.

Play a game with some children.

Extend yourself to a friend.

Sing a few ribald songs to your pets and plants---

Why not let them get drunk and wild!

Let's toast

Every rung we've climbed on Evolution's ladder.

Whisper, "I love you! I love you!"

To the whole mad world.

Let's stop reading about God---

We will never understand Him.

Jump to your feet, wave your fists,

Threaten and warn the whole Universe

That your heart can no longer live

Without real love!

***

Hafiz

***

Yeah. I love you.

xoxoLC

Epilepsy Awareness Day

2011-03-25T07:57:00.000-07:00

Our Elisabeth has worked hard to bring a larger awareness of epilepsy to our county. She has stepped way beyond the parameters of daily life to shine the light of awareness and love to the condition of epilepsy. The County Board of Supervisors has declared today, March 25, 2011, Epilepsy Awareness Day. In solidarity we are all wearing purple today, because purple is Kaitlyn's favorite color.

Thank you all for your love and support. I will post some photos of Kaitlyn later today!
Love and hugs,
LPC

Sodden

2011-03-24T10:03:00.000-07:00

Is sodden a word? Ha ha. Let us say, WET. Saturated. Really really wet. Our Rushing River is roaring along a quite a clip, spreading out over its whole bed. The fuzzy thing through the middle of the photo is part of the bridge. I am not getting out, you know I melt, to get a photo, so my driver stopped mid-span so I could get a shot. Yes, he is a nice guy. I am pretty done with winter, am looking forward to some nice, sunny days, so that I can fill my blog with California Poppies and Lupine and the like. This storm after storm after storm is starting to get me down.

Up note: the studio is clean, there is a painting-in-progress on the easel, and a quilt in the sewing machine for finishing touches. Coffee is delicious. Catching up on reading & writing. Prayers & Meditation. Candles lit. Prayers for Japan and people world-wide. Prayers for peaceful.

Prayers. Lots of Prayers.

As I mention nearly every Blogging, I take my dogs to Lake Sonoma weekly, sometimes 3 X week. Seriously, I look at my gas gage and think, we can go today! I think and do this, periodically before I check my calender, which gives me a problem or two, now and then. Those who know me, I guess, have resigned to this "disappearing" and wait it out. For this I am grateful.

Out there, the water speaks with calm, with liquid, with bouncing light. Often it is mirror-slick. Sometimes choppy with mini-breakers. Always deep and dark under the surface, because, of course, it is a man-made lake, and waters of the Dry Creek watershed have filled valleys, canyons and all the creek beds.

I go there for fun with my dogs, to exercise for us all three. Yet, I always find solace. Water is a healing element. An element necessary for Life, right up there with air. At this juncture of my life, I am finding that I need the healing, the solace, and the solitude, whether I find these elements at the Lake, or in my meditation spot. The world has gotten out of hand for my abilities to sort & file.

Yes, it is time for Mary Alice's Flower to bloom! I found a few, hiding low in the grass on the way home from the Lake. Mary's birthday is coming up (March 31!). Oh ouch. She is double-digits, pre-teen, she says, oh no, Nonnie says! She's going to be 10! We are all scratching our proverbial heads, how did this happen? Because of course, we clearly remember that day, when all 9 pounds 19 inches of her arrived, the cutest butterball of a baby! She is still cute as can be, and yes, confident, determined, smart, gorgeous kid. Named after her Gramma Mary Carmelita Paine, the famous MCP.

So that's that. It is a wet and windy day. I am grateful for Life. Blessings.

xoxoLC

Filled Up

2011-03-12T19:34:00.000-08:00

River Road is exquisite. Early spring is somewhat ahead of the onslaught of chemicals that signal full-blown springtime, this is where we are right now, before the "Time Change." I'm not talking "The Change," or even any old Change. I am talking the ritual of messing with my days, the dog days, the scheduled everythings. "Spring Ahead," says some demented genius. We're Saving Time.

I'm on limited time here. Pray to Goddess the computer doesn't "time out" (what-ever.) and refuse to post my blog, or email. Ha! We are all on limited time, aren't we? No one gets out of this one. Set your clocks ahead of time. Plan on some discombobulation.

So, tonight, after a beautiful day spent writing with writers, listening to writers read, share, and generally fan the flames of passionate writing, I drove home along River Road, my usual route. Seriously, it's the only route to my drive way. The forecast is for rain later this evening, and the clouds moved into position, great piles of them. As I turned on to River Road, the sun burst under the clouds, alighting every blade of grass, every wire strung across acres of bottom land, every blue wing of jay, white and red of woodpecker, every bud of new Oak leaf. With this kiss of light before the storm, Each illuminated.

By the time I turned off the engine, the pale rays were coming across the valley on a horizontal plane. Even low grass caught shadows and light and extra doses of green.

My camera was under groceries, sweater, raincoat, under papers, under the looped story I wrote today. Dogs sat still, wondering what now do they have to do before their dinner bowls are filled? Maybe they are getting used to the fact of life, when she's rummaging around for the camera, it's gonna take a little more time before their door is opened and they are invited out of the car. They watch. It would've been a good photo, had there been more light in the cab.

This was a full day. Full of beauty. Full of words and wordplay. Of humor and tears, of inspiration and encouragement. A beautiful day of full. I am grateful for a day like this.

Blessings, Dear Ones.
xoxoLC

Random

2011-03-05T20:57:00.000-08:00

My new computer has all my photos from the last computer on board. I am so impressed, and I found them tonight, so I am posting a few that impress my own self.

My work has kept me away from my "play time" on the computer. Goodness, I've gotten so disciplined! All this thinking, writing, organizing, revision, etc etc etc., it's enough to wear a woman out. Ha. I have been thinking of re-vamping the Blog, but have no clear vision of where I want to go with this. So, not going anywhere with that in the near future.

This little guy is now 79 pounds of rambunctious. Still cute. No. Handsome?

I have no idea where I took this one. Impressive, no? Maybe I was on the pole? Definitely looks like a mountain adventure.

The rain is coming down. It's cozy here, stove full of wood, and I am turning in early, just for the luxury of it. Have a good Sunday.

xoxoLC

Mountains, Clouds and to the Lake

2011-02-21T19:04:00.000-08:00

To see snow on our Mayacama's in not an unusual Winter sight, but it is dramatic. From the high point on our way home from the Lake with the dogs I could see The Geysers puffing. It is a remarkable sight.

Many love to travel to the snow. Not me. I prefer to keep my capers warm. I have been known to hike into the mountains in Oregon, but the reward was a hot springs bath, either in the freezing stream, or snuggled in old cedar tubs. I could be convinced to do that again, but not in the snow. It is much more sane for me to stay warm, that way I am not grumpy.

Hiking is not my favorite sport, either. It is too much work, and I've never had enough to eat, or any security around my morning coffee. At high elevations I could never get the water to boil. Anywhere else, like flatland hiking, I had to drink it black, which means no cream, which brings up the question, "Why Bother?"

The snow is too cold. You have to drive in it to get to it, which is just wrong, if you ask me. I much prefer a short little 5 hour flight to Hawai'i, landing warm, purchasing dresses and flip-flops at the open-air vendor, renting snorkel gear and driving for a little while to your house for the week. Eating fruit and fish for days is my idea of Heaven, with Kona coffee in the mix for good measure.

And swimming. I love to swim. No, I do not swim between straight lines. I can, and love to swim for hours, until I am pickled and weary. I swim, float, tread water, float, back-stroke, front-stroke, dog paddle, float, tread water: Bliss. I am not afraid of the water, and I love all bodies of water; rivers, streams, lakes, ponds, the ocean. There is a spot on Highway 101 north of here, where a sign is posted at the crest of a hill, "Russian River Watershed." It feels like home when I see it. I live in a watershed. Well, we all do, whether we recognise it or not, I suppose. With cars and highways and Internets our awareness of canyon, valley, mountain range, ridge, gorge, plateau, deer trail, swamp diminishes, in fact, may disappear altogether.

A watershed encompasses it all, from the top of the mountains to the river bed.

Emerson is a talker. A whiner. A moaner. We just do not get where we're going fast enough for him. And, I must say, he is one handsome Labrador. He is big and strong and ready to go for broke. All day. Every day. He also loves towels: he wallows in his blue towel after his swim, and if he finds one hanging where he can reach it, he wraps himself in it with snorts and grunts. It does seem a little weird, now that I am describing it, but we laugh and enjoy towels with him.

Yeah. Yeah. Let's just get there; patience, Luna, it is not so long ago that you were the anxious pup, whining and drooling to get to the Lake.

If one happens to listen to NPR, or watch PBS, one cannot help but notice that the world is in an uproar at this point in time. My head is not in the sand. I purchase really spiked-up-in-price gasoline, to take my dogs to the Lake. In ways it does seem crazy, and immaterial to do so. I could, and do, take them on walks, which does not use gas.

"It's kind of a melancholy day," my friend Gail said this afternoon. The clouds obscured the sun, creating sky of flat cream colored acres. There are bursts of pink blossoms, and the Buck Eye is leafing out into bright green umbrellas. Spring is sending skunks and foxes to their demise on the freeway, the Ravens, hawks and Osprey are in pairs. Life surges to express, regardless. Spirit rises to Live.

It is a gift of a day, and now, evening.
Blessing it all.

xoxoLC

Point. Click. Point. Click.

2011-02-18T10:51:00.000-08:00

1. Must clean camera: Soon. It is acting up just enough to put the fear of failure in me. First Place on the list is to encourage me-own-self to do it before it quits altogether. My walk this morning included a quick trip to the Summer Bridge, which, of course, is stacked neatly beside the road. The river is high and roaring swiftly below flood stage.

Water is everywhere. All the small gullies and ditches run with clear, oxygenated water.

I feel a painting coming on. I love the abstract nature of the cement shapes.

This morning, as I walked, the air cold, the wind cold, everywhere noise and action of the rains. We have experienced crazy storms, piles of hail, wind, rain and snow. Even today you can hear the water soaking into the garden, dripping from the trees. Clouds are piling up, perhaps more is on the way.

I love it. These days of being socked-in, have been productive. Revision, and submitting my work. Catching up the laundry. Back to the work. Cook dinner. Back to the work. Back to the work.

At this time of year, the moss is alive with the rains. It has a short amount of time to do all of its housekeeping, reproducing, and greening. Then, the sun comes and dries it to a crisp, and it waits patiently for the next wet season.

2. Stay with the work: finish. Revise. Send out. Do More. Finish. Revise. Send. Do More.

Happy Day.
xoxoLC

My Heart

2011-02-14T08:23:00.000-08:00

Winter has returned. We have a gorgeous, storm-soaked windy morning. Inspired thoughts lean into 17 syllables. I forgot to bring in the garlic basket. It, the garlic, the strawberry starts and a bag of poppy seeds are all out there with the hoe and two shovels. I just walked away and didn't give any of them a second thought. So easy to go back to hibernation.

Beautiful Haiku Morning

Storm in Trees

Labrador Nose-print, Sigh.

Easy to go back inside. Having not been feeling so great for the past few days, I am so fine snuggling back into comforter and sheets and big dogs. Listening to the wind chimes and Pines shoooooo-ing, water dripping, long contented hufffffffs, is so nice. I am grateful to not go anywhere, though this means missing my Beloved Artists' Group.

My Artist's Date this week was a trip to the Grace Hudson Museum, where there is a collection of baskets on exhibit: American Masterpieces... The Artistic Legacy of California Indian Basketry.

These all ways make me cry. Their Beauty. Their Herstory. Their Joy. Their Expression.

The Baskets are from "rarely seen Indian basketry collection of California State Parks." Exquisite comes close to an acceptable description.

This Little One did a miraculous thing in the photographing. At home, I up-loaded the shots onto my computer. I have a series of the Little Lady. What I didn't notice, as I was focusing on my camera, attempting to get in-sync with the lighting, etc., was that She put a show on for me. She is Dancing. Dancing Color, Spirit, Goddess, Love, Beauty, Tears, Motion, Transcending, Life, All Things Female.

The Call to the Studio is timeless. The Call to the pen, the brush, the fibers, beads, feathers, is perhaps situational as each has Her Life with which to create. Yet, the Call to the creation is the timeless piece, that which we have done forEver, and will continue to Do.

This little basket makes me weep. I feel so blessed to have experienced just a tiny increment of Her magical motion through time, across cultures. The tears bring relief. Maybe, just maybe, I am experiencing some of the Joy which brought this piece to fruition.

Enjoy this day celebrating Beloveds.

xoxoLC

Kai

2011-02-11T18:43:00.000-08:00

My grandson Kai, and I, are working out a new schedule. Monday was our first date, and we went into H-town to the Park, and what a cool park it is. Of course, I have only eyes for Kai, and you may see why! He is rather handsome, if I do say so myself, but then, his pretty Mom is my Liz, so those dimples and brown eyes are in the jeans. I mean, genes.

I left the camera in the car on purpose, so I could just soak him up. He ran up to me and said, "Let's play TAG!" Of course, my mind flew to disturbing scenes of me lumbering around, crashing, tripping, etc etc, and I said too fast, "Where's base?" "Base? What's base?" his expression quizzical. So yes, I explained to him what 'Base' is, and that it is necessary in the game of tag. "Ok. Base is the swing set." he said with authority (know that he is a future Police Chief.) The swing set is on the far end of the playground. Fine then. I took off, dodged around stuff and through sheer surprise, beat him to it.

The good thing about leaving the camera behind, is that when I brought it out, the late afternoon winter light was exquisite.

The unfortunate thing, was that we dawdled too long, and got him home a little late, and he had to launch into homework-mode, which doesn't make him too happy, ever. Next Monday, we are doing homework... first! We will get used to this.

Tonight there was a big arrow in the sky. Pointing right at me, of course. Maybe a symbol of Cupid, since Valentine's Day approaches, and I need to figure out, once again, how many years Wayne and I are celebrating this year. 29 I believe. Wow. That is a long time.

Or maybe it is pointing to the setting sun, which is getting closer to rising on the other side of the world, where Egypt is re-creating itself. Wow. What a big job is in store for them.

Here it is, Friday night, which seems to have arrived so quickly.

Have a goooood TGIF. Do something fun. Smile!
xoxoLC

New Friends & Neighbors

2011-02-05T17:03:00.000-08:00

New Baby on the Block!

Arrived today; second stop: Gladys's.

These smiles!

It looks as though for her, this will be an easy transition!

Joanie and Bently.

My new neighbor, a baby Great Dane!

Oh. Maybe we shouldn't be holding him in our arms!

Or, maybe it's just right!

Puppy Love.

xoxo

Miscellaneous Meander

2011-02-03T10:19:00.000-08:00

A couple of these guys come to my seedy bird feeder. They hang from the ledge and throw seeds far and wide. It appears they are pulling a Blue Jay Trick, as the Jay gets all disturbed and tries to chase them off. They make much noise, and move into the tree above and just wait their turn, and swoop down to swing and rock the sunnies into their bills. Really, a woodpecker is not a nice bird. Neither are Jays, I guess.

The bird world fascinates me. I have annoyed many a walking partner with my gasps, "OH! There's a blah-dee-dah!" Maybe the gasp is what's annoying, as it may sound as if there is immanent danger, like a rattlesnake or something. In my defence (hahah) I did spot a baby rattlesnake from a good distance before we got to it, so I have saved my own (and my partner's) life. A time or two, I might add. Yes. Maybe next time I will tell you about those escapades.

OK. That makes me think of another Dad-Story: He and I were hauling a wild heifer (oh Goddess, I am cracking my own self up) in our International Truck with the racks on, because she had gotten through fences, etc., and was next door at Harry's. So, we went and got her. Understand, this journey was all of a half-mile away. She was loaded, the tail-gate secure, and off we go, slowly because this heifer really had lost her mind. She was bellowing and lunging and kicking. We crept out onto the highway, limped and swayed to our turn-off and lane, and just as we rounded the mailboxes, she decided to blow the scene. I kid you not. That Jersey heifer decided to launch herself over the racks.

Yes. I decided to leave as well, flung open the door. Dad hollered, "Jesus Christ!" and grabbed my arm, dragging me back into the cab. "You could get killed doing that! Stay!" That may have been the first time that I doubted him, that he could and would control any danger near me. It seemed obvious, that the smartest thing to do would be to get outta Dodge. We hunkered down, kind of under the dashboard, wrapped around the gear shift with the clear blue acrylic knob that Bob had made in shop. The heifer fell over the side, got up, and trotted down the lane towards the barn. Like that was her intention, all along.

My GrandGirls were over after school this week. "Sorry," I said, "I didn't finish the dishes or sweep the floor OR make the bed today..." That's okay, Nonnie, WE don't care! Music to mine ears. I have been told a number of times that they like my house, just like it is, whenever they get here. Sometimes it is in better condition than others.

First things first: Food! This one has gotten so tall that it is remarkable just how much she can put away. Just an inch or so to go, and she is going to be taller than I am. Yes, I remember her at 2 years, walking ahead of me on a path at the Elementary School. She decided to ditch the Nonnie, turned to me and commanded in her most authoritative voice, "Sit Nonnie. STAY!" and off she went. Is this a thread?

Our Mission is to do some painting and art lessons. This day I suggested that we take a walk for "inspiration," to which they whole-heartedly agreed. After the meal/snack, we headed for the River. We walked down our lane, past the neighbor geese, and through the fence, past the No Trespassing Sign, and through another fence into the vineyard (Keep OUT), and up onto the levee. "What's a levee?" Mary wanted to know. Isn't this fun? Air, biology, geography, engineering and who-knows-what-all is discussed on these adventures. The willows are busting out to green. The river looked like it was playing, throwing up its flippers all asparkle.

I heard one of my favorite whistles, just barely. Turned and searched the leafless Cottonwoods and Alders. AH! Right there, was the Osprey, harassing their abject enemy, The Bald Eagle, who was hunched up and ducking. "The Bald Eagle is our State Bird, right Nonnie?" It was the first time that they've ever seen our National Bird, right here on our Rushing River.

Weirdly enough, we also found, just yards upstream from us, a wild boar carcass. Another biology lesson, since there were fascinating maggots squirming all over the place. They were not mortified or horrified: they were curious.

We re-learned how to find and throw skipping rocks, a yearly endeavor. As the sun dipped behind the hills, the air began to cool immediately. Our heads were in the warm breeze and everything below shoulder height was cold, a very odd sensation.

Being a Nonnie is an adventure. It is the most bestest thing "to be" ever invented. And that's the truth.

Life.
Very sweet. Interesting. Curious.
Next time, we're doing some art.
Yep.
xoxo
LC

Emerson and Luna

2011-01-26T14:07:00.000-08:00

All I can say about this boy, Emerson, is that he cleans up well. Really. He does. He is so black he shines blue. He plays like an over-fueled tank, and always has slobber, dirt and sticks glued to himself.

This is my girl, Luna. I know. I repeat myself. But here she is, all smiles and dirt. She wrote the How to Be (Happy) manual, and she follows it word by wag. It behooves one to follow her advice.

That orange thing is a squeaker-toy that still has its squeaker two years later! A miracle.

This morning I bent over to pull up a little volunteer garlic peeping out from the mulch. My thinking was ahead of myself, as usual, imagining it in my stir-fry. "Ping!" and the back slid out of alignment.
I do not like that feeling, like it will be impossible to straighten up, ever again. Luckily for me, chiropractic care is never far away.

On the table at the office, I found myself in tears of frustration, anger, fear. Damn! I just wanted to... fill in the blank, anything but this. Crick-crack, thump. Physically adjusted back, somewhat, but still shaky. What's going on here? asks the chiropractor/husband. Arrrrrggh! A new wave of sadness.

A new wave of news concerning the dog-chaos of December. I won't go into gossip-details, as I know only what was in the newspaper, namely that the dog-day-care place where I used to take my dogs has been busted as a "grow." Yes, this goes on all around us, in town, out of town, in houses, in businesses, back yards, gardens, what-ever. It's a free country, right? Yeah yeah.

My dismay involves the danger to which the dogs were subjected as a "front" business to the grow. Had there been the kind of bust with guns, etc., who is watching out for the dogs? Oh, yes: we paid to have our dogs there.

Well. It's all over now. My dogs are safe and secure with me. They are safe when I go to work. The other dogs are most likely with their families, they too, are safe. The humans are on their own, I guess, choosing their own destinies.

xoxoLC

Pining for the Beach

2011-01-23T18:50:00.000-08:00

Am I dreaming? Is January disappearing in a blink? It must be time for another trip out to Point Reyes, time to let my eyes rest on the horizon, time to let time stand still.

Or, we could just go back to Sea Ranch, and rent a house for another week. I am missing the Edge of the Continent, where the wilderness touches the sea.

A lesson in Irish Breakfast: Irish Coffee. Seriously, this was a first for me, but could be repeated easily.
Jameson. Good, thick French Press Coffee. Whipped Cream.

Yes. I am so fond of my coffee pot.

Joseph and Maureen brought their new Christmas gifts out with them, which included a new, handy-dandy pressurized whipped creamer, you know, like the Downtown Bakery uses. A dangerous gift.

Usually, Wayne is somewhat of a purist about breakfast. This was to his liking. He may have met his Irish genes in this cup. A new breakfast of champions.

The Master Irish Barista.

Quickly masterful!

She's Irish, too.

Yes. That was fun, celebrating the New Year at the coast.

Today I cleared the garden, it is now ready for the rototiller. I've pulled and dug out the horrible, nasty grass, and filled the bin with it. The hens have been working with me, fluffing feathers and finding tasty morsels under the mulch. The sun has been shining daily, and the nights are cool, sometimes foggy. I pruned the grape and just two roses. Pulled more grass.

I like this, slowing down to season. Getting ready for the rush of Spring, which isn't far off.

So, for tonight, I'm slow. Outside it sounds like there is an owl in our backyard maple. Dogs sacked. Dinner bubbles. Happy Mid-winter Eve.

xoxoLC

Mary's Art (Annie's too) and Moonset Meander

2011-01-20T09:43:00.000-08:00

The Plaza Gallery in town has a show of children's art featuring elementary schools. I was there for a writing class to discover two of MY granddaughters have art hanging! I called each Mama-of-the-Artist with hilarious responses, "Oh, yes, we were going to tell you about that..." and "What art show?" Hehehehe. Mama's are often the last one in the communication cycle, non? So anyways, we made it to the Opening, and Mary was given a "I'm Proud to Be An ARTIST" tag which delighted her no end. Well, I am the proud Nonnie of the Artists! And I wear that tag daily.

Some of us thought that this was an amazing portrait of Luna. But, it's not.

This is Annie's piece. She was unable to be at the Opening because of a raunchy cold. We will be meeting there soon. There were several of these bicycles, I could line my house with them. I love the colors and the active molecules happening here.

Moonset was phenomenal this morning. Oh oh oh. Has it always been like this? Perhaps I have slept through too many. Of course, today was exceptional in the noticing.

I have been missing my father. Yesterday I decided that I am just going to do a sort of free-write post here (of course, all of these are free-writes!) with Dad at the helm. What have I been missing? Besides the obvious? Foremost in my mind has been conversation. He loved stimulating conversation. As his daughter I did not always appreciate this in my growing-up. It seemed that he talked to everyone else. Until I started bringing home concepts: aha! He was surprised at the "workings" of his independent daughter. I recall his reading one of my papers, his looking up with a grin, "You're a good writer!"

Every morning, yes every single morning rain, fog, frozen or shine, he saw the dawn from the pasture or corral or from the barn door. He mentioned this almost daily at breakfast.

One of the things I am missing at this time in my life, is a two-sided conversation. Dad talked "politics," in fact, was an active member of his community, serving many years on School Boards, and as a Director at the creamery co-op. He didn't like conflict, but I am certain that in the face of it he stayed with the points of the situation at hand with intention to find common ground to accomplish the most benefit for the most people/students. I do not believe that he ever called into doubt the other person's integrity, religion, race, sex, or patriotism in a situation with two(or more) view points. At home, over the backbone of the dairy cow he might expound from his frustrated place, and be/sound racist or sexist, but he would never be so bigoted in public.

From the kid-point-of-view, when his compatriot dairyman, and very good friend, Charlie, would come over to "discuss" problems at the Creamery, I could hear a lot of shouting and hollering. I knew there was disagreement, but could never get close enough to hear what it was about, as Dad had taught us that on no uncertain terms were we ever to come into the milking barn when they were talking. Top secret, good ol' dairyman business. Then, Dad invited Charlie in for coffee and dessert, which he usually declined, roaring off in his beat-up truck, shouting his good-byes over the din. He, after all, had to milk his cows.

I am an NPR and PBS junkie. I say that since we have gotten TV these past four years, that I now am having an NPR Education. I love documentaries. I watch ones on subjects (going to Mars?) that don't even interest me. Mostly I choose, and usually choose Masterpiece Theatre and Nature. I love the exquisite photography. Oh, and those British comedy sitcoms make me laugh my socks off.

But. But I am tired of analyzing or listening to them analyze. I am just tired of it. I really strongly dislike "talk radio" of the "conservative" ilk, not that I ever listen to it... just excerpts of rhetorical barf. I guess what I am saying and feeling is that I miss the possibility of asking a question and receiving a thoughtful, respectful, kind-of-inclusive answer. I miss listening. I miss hearing Dad say something like, "I hadn't thought of that..." Having him pull the question apart and sort it to his understanding and viewpoint indicated that he had heard the question! Wow. What a concept.

As I have said before, I grew up in an agricultural community where everyone knew me from five generations before. I could get away with nothing. All accounts of my activities were relayed back to my Father, sometimes before I got home. Oh, and when he bought me that '65 Mustang, neither one of us heard the end of that!

The issues and responsibilities of today's USA are not unlike what was faced as I was growing up. Most likely the biggest difference is that there are more layers of change needed. Would we be a happier population if we took a little more time to listen? Is it so important to blurt out our own line before the other has spoken completely to theirs? Is louder truer? Does my skin color and gender combine to make me invisible? Does yours? Does a person's political or religious affiliations disappear them? Are you disappeared?

Keeping Watch

In the morning

When I began to wake,

It happened again---

That feeling

That You, Beloved,

Had stood over me all night

Keeping watch,

That feeling

That as soon as I began to stir

You put Your lips on my forehead

And lit a Holy Lamp

Inside my heart

***

Hafiz

***

Today is a wonder.

xoxoLC

A Couple More Waves

2011-01-16T17:06:00.000-08:00

Oh, I am loving this mid-winter mild, sunny day. Well, it's mostly passed, now, but today was sublime. I pulled weeds and made great, tangled piles at the edge of the garden. I let my hens out to enjoy things under the leaves, and noticed that Ms. Carmelita has a drooping tail, and doesn't go far, though she does keep her conversation going. I dosed her with Echinacea, and hope for the best. Took out ashes and made a new little fire, though we barely need one. It is deeply satisfying to me to "do chores." After what seemed like endless rainy days, this one just seems so perfect.

Have you ever voiced your opinion or thought, and had some one say, "I don't buy that." For the life of me, I have no idea how that phrase has much to do with anything.

Dinner is in the oven. Dogs are in wait-sprawl, ready for dinner. Christmas lights are down and packed. The robins are singing their twilight songs, ready to settle in for the night. The sun has set, but there is still light, daylight fading. This quiet holds peace.

There is still room for reading and writing! And a cup of tea.

Manic Screaming

We should make all spiritual talk

Simple today:

God is trying to sell you something,

But you don't want to buy.

That is what your suffering is:

Your fantastic haggling,

Your manic screaming over the price!

***

Hafiz

***

Have a wonder.

xoxoLC

Beauty, Gratitude, Choosing, Groupmind, Flying.

2011-01-13T09:41:00.000-08:00

Squeezing my gashogSUV into a parking space in town, on my way to meeting with fellow writers, I noticed this beautiful young woman perched on the fire hydrant in front of the toy store. She was dressed like an artist ought to be dressed, with striped leggings, boots, the Pea Coat and lime green hat. Guessing that she is 13 or so, and remembering my daughters admonishment, "Ask before you take your photos!" I did approach her and ask her permission. She turned her perfect face to me, her enormous blue eyes reading me thoroughly, she tossed my way, "Sure. Whatever." The woman you see photographing her was having a good time, carrying on with a steady stream of verbal appreciation. Interrupting herself, she asked me, "Is she your granddaughter? Is that why you're taking her picture?" I smiled, giggled actually(sorry Dev), because it reminded me of how in certain situations I forget that I do not know everybody on the planet, how every child, kid, baby is mine; how every dog is mine; how every elderly woman is my grandma. It just happens. And then I have to think my way back to (hahaha) reality.

"No, " I said, putting my camera back into the car, with one shot taken, "She's just so darned perfect."

I am so grateful that she was sitting there, in that moment.

Starlings and Blackbirds have been dropping out of the sky. Various theories are afloat. In our area a hundred or so were found on the freeway shoulder. Oh no, not here too. The birds fly in enormous flocks. I love to watch them, and yes, I always pull off to the side of the road, as I am so completely distractable. The local killing seems to have resulted from a flock like this (maybe even this flock) flew so low that they collided with an 18 wheeler. Now, I have never heard of such a thing.

What could this be showing us?

Understanding "group mind" is a tall ambition: Is it possible to have freedom? Freedom of speech? Can I really choose to go North when the population is headed South? Does a Lemming ever change its mind and not leap off the cliff? One cannot be a rebel with nothing to fight against.

There is much at stake here.

No! Turn right! No! We're going left! No! Up! No! Down!

Imagine the mess.

Taj Mahal is singing in the living room. He comes on the stereo every morning as a result of Rebekah's tinkering with the buttons and dials about seven years ago. So, the stereo comes on every morning, ready or not. And I love it. I am reminded of that little girl showing me how she plays the piano, on my new piece of equipment. She is almost as tall as me now, 12-going-on-twenty.

For her sake, I am compelled to open the creaking doors to my perceptions, projections, my negativity, my opinions, my co-creating worst-case-scenarios, my fears, my certainties--- to see them for the notions they are. Any idea, thought, belief is an ethereal nothing, even while it stifles, condemns, stops.

For her sake, I am compelled to let go of stuck-ness. I am compelled to give up, turn over my own violent, revenge-filled thoughts. I lay down the machine guns of my mind.

Of late, I have heard the words, "Turn my Life over to God." For every stubborn, right, strong, farm-girl, I-can-do-it-myself thought, there is the strength, faith and good, Knowing. I am not alone.

Aahhh. That's better. Now, for the flying.

Love you.
xooxLC

Waves

2011-01-11T16:56:00.000-08:00

Well, Hello There. Looky here: it is 1/11/11. A good moment to rekindle with my writing. A good day to download 126 images onto my new, shiny computer with back-lit keyboard, I kid you not, I can type in the dark if I want to; and a good day to gather 10 poems together and bundle them into a brown manila envelope (and mail them).

We spent the week after Christmas at the Coast. The weather was beautiful. We saw hundreds of whales on January 1 swimming south. I have never seen so many, they passed by all day long, huffing and puffing. The days were spent sipping coffee, walking, eating, reading, laughing, talking, eating, walking, sitting in the hot tub, reading, laughing, sleeping, napping, eating.... bliss. We didn't start up the truck once in 4 + days!

For the past weeks I have only checked my computer-stuff from the office. Mine crashed, very completely, not too surprising, since I had been duly warned the last couple of times we'd been into the shop. Nope. I didn't back up anything, even though I had had that whole routine explained to me for the last 6 years. Yep: when it all came down I was mortified. Haven't I written about this before? Sorry for repeating myself.

So. I emptied my sock drawer of cash, and the mattress, too. I turned pockets and baskets upside down. I stole all quarters left around the house. I ordered my new laptop.

The next day my back went out as I drove from Sarah's house to mine. I think that is called buyer's freak-out. It lasted a few days.

Then Wayne went on his business trip and I was home with the dogs, which is always fun. No, really, it is. Then the back fence fell over and that is a story unrelated to this one, even though there is an overlap. While Wayne was gone I made my own coffee, extremely black on the first morning, a little less so the next, and pretty darn good the third. I packed in wood and took out the ashes. I went to work. I took each dog out every day, in spite of their insatiable desire to go 50 thousand miles, now. Yes, we were very glad to hear his truck pull into the driveway. Very.

Before the computer crashed, the printer died. It seemed as though every piece of machinery I use was thrashed. Finished. Fine then, I won't print here at home. Of course, printing out the writing gets a little tedious, but oh well, it's temporary.

You see, LPC, this is Life. Rolling in, wave by wave by wave. I am grateful for each day, and every day may hold a challenge or twenty. In the overall scheme of things, Life richly blesses my existence. Electronics are helpful, and I can write in my paper notebooks.

It was strangely calm and peaceful to not have a computer! I was a little reluctant to pick up email and Facebook, even at the office. For me there is always a tug to go backwards, to slip into the pre-computer age, to stir up a pot of chicken soup, to stare at birds, the dogs, the leafless branches, sky, light dancing behind the breakers, to let the verses in my mind trail onto a page, to read a book from cover to cover.

Zero

Is where the Real Fun starts.

There's too much counting

Everywhere else!

***

Hafiz

***

Much love and gratitude.

xoxoLC

Taking to Heart

2010-12-10T09:36:00.000-08:00

I've been reading an interview in this month's "The Sun" magazine between Alice Luterman and Kim Rosen. "Written On The Bones, On Reclaiming The Ancient Power Of Poetry." It has taken me two days to read it because I've savored every word. I would like to crawl into that conversation, not to say anything, really, but to hear the voices.

It would be so satisfying to type the whole interview for you. But, I won't. Go purchase or borrow the magazine. This interview is worth the whole year's subscription.

To me a good poem is like a sacred mind-altering substance: you take it into your system, and it carries you beyond your ordinary ways of understanding. ---Like a shaman's drum, the beat of a poem can literally entrain the rhythms of your body: your heartbeat, your breath, even your brain waves, altering consciousness.

This explains why I reach for the embrace of my dear friend, Hafiz. Opening The Gift, and more recently, God Is Laughing, which (for the moment) I cannot locate, brings me joy, insight, and brings me quickly to God/Spirit as Hafiz. It is as though Spirit is then speaking directly to me, infusing me with first, a lightheartedness, and second, a direct-line to The Creator.

Learning a poem by heart... is a mutual relationship in which you let yourself be changed and healed. The ancient Tibetans used to call it "writing on the bones." They couldn't read or write, so they passed down the Buddha's teachings by memory. They knew that taking these teachings into themselves was a bodily experience.

Hafiz, Luna, Emerson and all of my selves are now going out into the fog, over the mountain and down to the Lake. We are going to get wet and exhausted. We are going to exalt in this Life. This Day, which, is a seriously large gift.

Love you.
And thank you for being here, whispering words of love and compassion. You all are my Beloved teachers.
xoxo
LC

Attention

2010-12-09T11:41:00.000-08:00

Pay Attention. Life.

Something irrevocable happened this past week at the dog-daycare. Something tragic, heartbreaking and out of control. A Big Mistake. Something life-changing for all touched by it.

I haven't been writing. Or painting. I have taken few photos. My printer is broken, again, and this one is about 2 1/2 hours old, in printer-life. When I attempt to down-load the photos from the camera the computer says, "Sorry. No more room for said photos. Do something."

And I am feeling that the above project is too damn time consuming so I am not doing anything about it until I want to. Nice. We know when to be stubborn.

I did, however, make a breakthrough this week. I spent a day creating an 'object da art,' dried it to the best of my ability, and submitted it to a "member's show." Yes. As soon as I am done here, I am going back into my studio to make another one because that was deeply satisfying.

My Life: My creative life, my spiritual life, my family life, my life with dogs, my grandparenting life, my life in the community life, my writing life, my emotional life, my physical life, my singing in the vineyards life, my life with friends life, my life with husband life, my life with myself life... are all one and the same Life. I am not one way with one aspect, and another with another. Mostly.

As you know, this is my Luna Dog. The irrevocable thing included and involved her. I cannot go into details because I just can't. I will say that she is okay. She and Emerson both were traumatized, as was I and Wade and another family. Because I know that I am not in control of anything, and because I know that there is much more to Life than of which I am aware, I have faith that we all heal. In time.

Blessings.
xoxoLC

Time for More Hafiz

2010-11-28T19:21:00.000-08:00

Would You Think It Odd?

Would you think it odd if Hafiz said,

"I am in love with every church

And mosque

And temple

And any kind of shrine

Because I know it is there

That people say the different names

Of the One God."

Would you tell your friends

I was a bit strange if I admitted

I am indeed in love with every mind

And heart and body.

O I am sincerely

Plumb crazy

About your every thought and yearning

And limb

Because, my dear,

I know

That it is through these

That you search for Him.

Hafiz

***

Many Blessings.

xoxo

A winding road and whoopee! Hafiz!

2010-11-19T13:50:00.000-08:00

I took a little side trip on the way home yesterday when the sun was still shining. It isn't today. I hear that a storm is on its way, and like clockwork, the sky gets heavier and darker. Of course, this is to be expected, beings how it's past mid November. I for one, lament the letting go of summer and early fall glory. It could be said that I whine and grumble about this phase.

The road I took winds up a canyon, crooks along side a tributary to the Rushing River. If I were to follow this road for an hour or so, I would circle around, up, down and over, ending up at my front door. No where am I far from home. I met about 15 individual gravel trucks coming out of the canyon, which was interesting since it is a one-way road in many places. Fortunately I am confident of using dirt turn-outs, and the truck drivers where very friendly with smiles and waves. I know, I was thinking that too: "Lady! Get home!"

I rhapsodise about the Buck Eye. I love this tree in every season. It is just special in my eye. I am awed by how aesthetic it is, regardless of season, weather, terrain.

This one landed in the crevice of a rock, and there she is.

Which reminds me: I have discovered that Daniel Landinsky has a new book of Hafiz out, and I cannot wait to get my hands upon it asap. I Heard God Laughing is the title.

I have learned so much from God that I can no longer call myself

a Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Jew.

The truth has shared so much of itself with me that I can no longer

think of myself as a man, a woman, an angel, or even pure soul.

Existence has become so saturated with laughter it has freed me of every

concept and image a mind could ever war with.

Hafiz

I call this as lucky as a person can get.

TGIF!

xoxoLC

Leaving

2010-11-15T18:21:00.000-08:00

Have you left home? Driving home today I listened to "Talk of the Nation," where they were speaking with Azar Nafisi who has a new book out. I have forgotten the title. Rats. Well, anyway, she wrote Reading Lolita in Tehran. A Memoir in Books, and Things I've Been Silent About. Yes, she has the best titles, ever. Her newly released book is about living as an exile in a different country than the one in which you were born. I love listening to her. Her voice is beautiful, her syllables make me want to write and read to you. She included in the discussion, leaving your country by choice, going back and finding that change has swept through all of your reference points. Callers enriched the discussion with their experiences, one young writer from Haiti who spoke of her parents' fleeing Haiti for political reasons, and how she feels that she is an immigrant here, in the USA. Azar Nafisi spoke of how each of us leaves somewhere.

To me it sounded like if I died and then came back to my house. Someone else would be living here, their furniture set up, their food in the refrigerator, their laundry in front of the washing machine, their smells in the walls.

I left my home town many years ago. Because of it's location and history it hasn't changed much. I still recognise and am recognised on Main Street, well, in the Ivanhoe anyway. The Victorian Buildings still line the street, the ocean rumbles in the background, the fog rolls in or never leaves, the cows are brought in to milk.

Other things have changed. In me. I distinctly remember leaving home, a few times.

I have no desire to recreate, or relive the past. Lately I have felt more solidly grounded within my Life, which surprises me somewhat, as I thought that I was already here. This is different. Today by afternoon the temperature was up to and past 80. The sky blue. The Madrone berries create swaths of red across the hills, the vineyards yellow. On my skin the warmth feels strange, yet soothing. I realize that while it is unseasonably warm, I am accepting this gift of a summer day in mid November.

Not worrying about climate disaster, or impending doom, or lack of anything, or loneliness I am free to experience this moment. Not defending my opinion or my right to exist opens a new channel!

I fear the political climate in our country has made us a bunch of exiles. Yet, I personally have control over just my little corner. Many times I have written of the joys discovered under leaves in my garden, or of my grandchildren's brilliance, the marvels of my own kids, husband, dogs; and about allowing my creative intelligence full reign.

I cannot imagine what it would be like to be exiled from my world, community, country. Millions of people the world over have this experience.

Azar Nafisi spoke of creating a life in the US. When she returned to Iran everything was changed. The regime redefined her religion, the history of her country, everything she knew and of which she had worked so long and hard.

I am deeply moved. This is a topic which, I am finding as I write this, is very difficult to stick with on a personal level.

Good stuff.
Hugs.
xoxoLC

Life is Good

2010-11-12T21:54:00.000-08:00

If I didn't know better, I'd have called today a Fall Apart Day. Things have been a little weird in the Land of Laura. Mmmm. Maybe I need to have a look-see with the astral line-up, check on any wild hares or black holes which may have appeared as I sipped coffee this morning, daydreaming instead of moving my pen across the pages.

For a couple of days I've had a nervous stomach, something which used to lay me out flat on the kitchen floor. This was nothing like that, but persistent, nagging, borderline painful.

You know what? The fire alarm went off again. This time because the stovepipe is new, and stinks a bit, and makes most likely, poisonous fumes, so the alarm went berserk. Luna came running to find me, and we went looking for Emerson. He was cowering behind our bed, trying to force his 78+lbs. under it. His ears were down, his eyes huge. Poor baby! I am thinking that I need to put a permanent sign on the front porch for the neighbors and firepeople, in case of emergency; look under the bed for the Labrador.

I took my camera and went out the front door, hopped in the car, and headed towards my closest daughter's house. In the car, for me, is a sanctuary of sorts. I am completely in control (yes, I know, it is an illusion of control, but never mind). I sing, pray, talk, swear, cry, laugh. I am entertained, soothed, supported, enjoyed. I am the center of the LPC Universe, don't have to watch what I say. Uncensored.

Today my mind was occupied by thoughts of my elder brother. He's been having some health challenges. Damn. Of course, my mind goes backwards, to our growing up river, out in the hills, "the boonies," he'd always say. It's true. We were backwoods kids.

I just talked briefly with my sister to learn that his hospitalization was caused most likely, by an adverse reaction to the drugs he was given in preparation for the procedure he had yesterday. Jesus H Christ. Sorry. A risk to taking drugs is reaction to the drugs.

The morning light seemed to careen from red to yellow to green to blue back to yellow. The vines are a riot of color. They've been watered, fed, trellised, sprayed, pruned, rained upon, frosted, boiled, roasted, dusted, fertilized and finally, harvested. Now they are a free-for-all of color. Days pass, and all that riot will be on the ground.

Life is just pretty. Sometimes astounding.

At Sarah's gate the Dogwood is all decked out in scarlet. My brother is mending. I am heading for bed.
Blessed Be.
xoxoLC

Gratitude, howlers, leaves.

2010-11-08T20:18:00.000-08:00

Having just finished a borrowed book, and since Dev loaned me a new one, I am alternating between being extremely lazy and reading. Haha. I meant, between reading and doing chores like taking ashes out, mopping the floor because Emerson Dumbdumb has taken to sneak-peeing on corners, feeding chickens and bringing in the wood. I love this cool, colorful, short late-afternoon. The robins are here! I love hearing them up in tops of yellow trees. It sounds like they may be happy to be here, too.

In a few short days, all of these leaves will be in my back yard. Some will be next door, and a few in the hedge out front. Regardless of where they fall, I will be looking up into the wild blue. The pansies on the back porch will receive their full measure of sunlight and may bloom all winter. The ones out front have been decimated by snails and slugs and earwigs, which may meet up with my nasty poison stuff tonight, just because I want to see all the cute pansy faces by the bird feeder. Is that reason enough to put some of the kill-snail under a leaf? Does anyone have a recipe (no flour or sugar, please) that includes earwigs and slugs? Perhaps I will make a stew.

Every afternoon there is a moment where the light seems to play with individual branches.

"In the beginning were the howlers. ...it would start with just one: his forced, rhythmic groaning, like a saw blade. That aroused others near him, nudging them to bawl along with his monstrous tune. ...As it was in the beginning, so it is every morning of the world." Don't you love Barbara Kingsolver? Doesn't it make you mad when she steals your lines?

I have been feeling a little sad, but in the face of such glorious Life around me, am reluctant to own up to it. Is it the change of season? Winter is only a few days away. All of this wild color will soon be gone, the brilliant leaves will be sliming into large circles under the trees. No, it is Change. You know, more of that-which-I-have-absolutely-no-control. This being the place to lay down doubt, pick up some faith, and write out a longer gratitude list.

I am grateful for yellow afternoons.
I am grateful to talk to my sister today.
I am grateful for Panama coffee.
I am grateful for robins.
I am grateful for bouncy dogs.
Warm fire.
Supper.
My bed.
Dishes to wash.
Laundry to fold.
4 eggs today, because I didn't bring them in yesterday.
Knock knock jokes.
Choice.

I am also grateful. Just plain, ordinary, grateful. Filled up.
xoxoLC

Love the One you're With

2010-11-02T11:54:00.000-07:00

Here she is, folks. The dimpled one.

The finish line is just a few steps farther (further?): You know, just up the road. Today is Election Day. Time to race down to the polling place and cast my vote (actually, I already did). Put aside whatever, and haul my little self in there to participate in governing this huge conglomeration we have for a nation. I did read the Voter's Manual, and do, as usual, wonder who writes these things. Is it wise to have vitriolic essays "for" and "against?" Has anyone thought of publishing essays "clear" and "unclear?" "crazed" and "sane?" "ridiculous" and "hilarious?" "thoughtful" and "rude?" "opinion" and "fact?"

I know. We'd then have to vote on who could/would write, right?

Kisses! No doubt of where those dimples came from, is there.

I want to say something. I want to say to us all: jump for joy! Grab some one and hold them high on your shoulders. Laugh. Cheer for some one, a team (like our Giants), a family member, the neighbors' kids, just let yourself have the joy of supporting, encouraging, cheering, jumping up and down, yelling. In 12 Step Programs all are encouraged by the reality that goodness is something renewable, obtainable, possible; by practicing and by giving of ones' self.

What I love the most about teams is the players. Of course, being a tad competitive, extremely prejudiced on occasion, and sometimes too noisy, I may seem obnoxious. Sorry.

Love to you this beautiful, Fall day.
xoxoLC

Wet. Everywhere Wet.

2010-10-23T15:14:00.000-07:00

Often I wonder how my little friend, Thumbelina, is doing. Did she ever come to yearn for her winter in Mr. Mole's hole? Did she ever wonder why she didn't appreciate all that quiet time?

Yesterday on the way out to the Lake, on the way up the mountain where the clouds had come down to touch the earth, magical things were going on in the misty morning.

Houses were aglitter. Traps became sparkle. Scotch Broom, mostly thought of as a horrible, invasive and explosive species, wears the silver droplets like the finest jewelry.

Life slows to a drop still. The water cycle has begun. Harvest may be over. Some crops are in, some are not completely harvested. This is life. Here, in the earth bound cloud, all is quiet. When the drop lets loose of the Broom there is a sound like an exhale.

Yesterday my eldest daughter turned 38. Not one day has gone by that I've not been grateful for her presence. Oh, she can holler, pout, swear, lie, and stomp around. But, here's a secret: her cheeks invented dimples. Her black eyes invented dancing.

Is there anything to say about perfection? No. My impulse right now is to just jump in. Of course, we might advise, take note of who built the temptation. Check and see if you want to be dinner.

The rainy season may be upon us. The clouds moved in as predicted. They may move out. For now the drops are warbling down the drain pipes, dripping from the tall maple, drumming on the palms. I am loving this quiet, steady rain.

Blessings.
xoxoLC

Mowing, planting, chasing dogs, watching the Giants

2010-10-20T11:15:00.000-07:00

Before I mowed the lawn, I raked leaves. They have not begun to fall in earnest, but the beginning is here. Soon, all will be covered with yellow, brown and orange. Don't fall off your chairs: I really did mow the lawn. Once when I was in high school I mowed our burly lawn and decided then, "I don't do lawns." This is the second time for me, and it was kind of fun. Wayne was trimming the hedge, so I had company, and that always helps me complete a task. I've taken the wild approach, you know, weeds, flowers, shrubs all atangle with one another. Actually, I even like that. Now and then I fly at it with abandon and clean it all up, so it can start the process again. Here, the gophers gobble my bulbs, the dogs rip up everything else. So my yard must be flexible and resilient. I am flower gardening in large planters, and I love how this is turning out. Maybe I will just turn everything else into pathways. Lawns are silly water-wasters.

Yesterday, while I was waiting for the Giants to begin the baseball game, I was out in the front yard, re-arranging the big ceramic planters. Fix the screen door, or close the door, because the dogs are going to escape. I considered ignoring the voice, but realized I would be sorry for that dumb move, so I put a five gallon bucket full of rocks in front of the lame screen door, and went back to the planter. Crash! I turned to see two canine heads poking through the crack they had accomplished. NO! STOP! They made a joint decision to commit insubordination, using their combined weight of approx. 165lbs to burst open the door like the bucket of rocks was a pillow. LUNA, LOOK (she can't help herself, she always does), COME. NOW. Yes. You know the rest of this chapter: she looked me in the eye, and said sayonara, bye bye.

Dammit. Needless to say, I was beside myself, and when I came back into the house it was the 3rd inning. I picked up their leashes and talked out loud to myself. Fine, I said. Maybe they will never come home. I have to live without them. I hate dogs. Someone will take them home. No they won't. Luna won't go to anyone she doesn't know, unless they open the car door. Neither will Emerson unless they have food, of course. Or chickens. Oh god, what if they get into the neighbors poultry? Crap. Dammit. I called my dog trainer. Lord, I confess: what would I do without him? Can you believe he always calls me back, patiently. Tells me what/how/etc to do next. The Giants scored a few runs. I couldn't even keep up with them. I called Wayne.

Somewhere in the fretting and cussing, the neighbor shouted, They're over here, Laura! so I called them like nothing was going on, and they raced for the front door. Once inside, Emerson flopped on the floor to cool down. Luna wanted out to the backyard for water. They were exhausted, hot and filthy. My, what goes on in 20+ minutes in a dogs' life can be remarkable. Luna submerged her whole head in the water bucket. Four times.

The Giants won... 3-0. Yay. IF they win today, they're going to the World Series! For the first time in a few million years. Since the huge earthquake when The Giants and the Oakland A's were the World Series.

I love to watch baseball. My youngest son was a catcher through his childhood, through Little League. I love catchers. My Aunt Dorothy told me that my grandfather was a very good catcher. My brother was a catcher. My sister, too. Me? I am no good at throwing, though I have gotten much better as an adult. My daughter was famous for her sneaky and excellent base running. So. I love baseball.

Yesterday I posted a picture from the web, of Cody Ross, one of the outfielders for the Giants. He has emerged as a wild man, hitting home runs right when they really need them. My other favorite is the catcher (surprise), Buster Posey, who really really reminds me of my youngest.

Today they play again. I need to be calm and peaceful, as I am "on Platform" at the Wednesday Eve. service at our Center. I am plotting how I am going to meditate and focus on my reading, and listen to the ballgame. Haha. This is sounding ridiculously impossible. I will close the front door for starters.

Hahaha.
In Peace and Quiet,
xoxoLC

Pretty Cute Kid

2010-10-19T17:02:00.000-07:00

Hmmmmm.

xoxoLC

Evening

2010-10-16T20:29:00.000-07:00

The garden is going to sleep. Sunflowers are picked clean and what remains are magnificent sky sculptures. Yes, that is the moon.

No, I cannot remember the name of this amazing plant. She has a stunning yellow flower that towers over my head, but is obviously not a sunflower. Today these fluffy seeds emerged.

It's calm. This may be what Peace looks like. Or the color of symphony. Whispering Possibles.

Good night.
xoxoLC

2010-10-15T22:16:00.000-07:00

The river is full of water released from the dam. It's evening, and the yellow light from the day has slipped behind the mountains with the sun. The water moves in a sort of false hurry.

Last week this was a beach.

It is just so beautiful. In less than a month the summer bridge will be removed, the road closed to traffic. The dogs and I still will be able to walk on the river bar. Few people will be seen. Many ducks, herons, osprey, and crows will enjoy the serenity of late Fall and early Winter.

The missing pumpkin/barking dog saga seems to continue. Bimbimbie commented in part, "Isn't it a pity people who are quick to complain about a barking dog in the night don't find out if everything was ok first..." This has bothered me a little this evening. It seems as though we could improve our relations in our little neighborhood way-out-in-the-boonies. Perhaps a little more checking-in, "How are ya?" style.
I feel a little sad that that didn't happen at all. It is not usual that Emerson barks frantically in the middle of the night. I mean, we share this house, and I am a light sleeper, grumpy when awakened in this manner, I would notice if he did this nightly!

Tonight, in the back yard, speaking with Jolee, it came to light that their chickens have been heisted as well, their colorful flock of 48+ Bantams down by over half, with no sign of an animal attacking. Seems that when they are let out in the morning, there are fewer of them. It appears as though we have a poacher at work.

Strange. More will be revealed. Eventually. Or not.

I've locked the front door. I am grateful for my pup with the booming bark, and my attentive Luna. And this too, shall pass.

Blessings.
xoxoLC

Thieves in the night and barking dogs

2010-10-13T15:30:00.000-07:00

Obviously, one can get carried away in one of these, not even needing four white horses or coachmen. Over the last few days, I have been puzzling over my pumpkin patch. Really. I remember thinking (I know, dangerous) that I had one for each grandchild, but would have to make do with the single white pumpkin to be my porch decor for this Hallow'een. Yesterday when I brought in the Butternut squash, I stood and pondered the sprawling Cinderella Pumpkin vines. 1. 2. 3. 4. Hmmm. 5. #5 has been hiding in the tall grass. I was sure there were 7. Oh well.

This afternoon I went out to move the wheelbarrow full of squash. I gasped. It was not full! Again, I stood and just looked. Then my eye went out into the pumpkins. 4. There were 4. There were dents in the mulch, dents in the soil, and even a stem remained where there once were my Beauties.

Now, I consider myself to be generous. But I am not feeling generous. I carry each of the Cinderellas into the back yard, and then bring them inside, one by one. They are too heavy to carry multiples. While I was inside Emerson shredded one of the stems. He just had to, I guess. I also drove the wheelbarrow full of Butternuts into the back yard, and in a bit I will stash them into the pantry.

Do coyotes eat pumpkins? Last night on the way home, a small fox trotted down the road in front of me. It could not possibly eat one of these 10 pounders, could it? On FB a video went around of big cats playing with their pumpkins donated to their zoo by stores after the Halloween sales. The personnel threw a pumpkin into the pool and the Siberian Tiger leaped in after it, retrieving just like Emerson. An enormous black Jaguar pounced on its bright orange pumpkin and ripped into it. Do you suppose the mountain lions and bobcats have discovered my pumpkin patch?

Two nights in a row last week, Emerson went ballistic in the middle of the night. Jesus H Christ, I nearly perished from adrenalin and the deafening racket. He was inconsolable, did not respond to my yelling at him, so there was just a lot of din. Of course, I am afraid of the dark, so I just stayed in my bed. Wayne mumbles, "What?" and rolls over asleep, instantly. IF there is a prowler or intruder, they get the whole outdoors, as far as I am concerned. There was strange, new pee on the tire on my car, and all over the garbage can in the morning.

Unfortunately his barking disturbed others. There were complaints. I called my Miracle Dog Trainer for advice. He has recommended that I purchase a bark collar, which I am ordering online. Then I will do a training session on how to use the damn thing. "Then what?" I asked him. "What if there really IS an intruder, and he (Emerson, that is) doesn't bark?" "Don't worry," he says, "You have Luna, she would never let anyone hurt you." The whole point of the barking collar (I know, I know.) is so that Emerson will stop barking when I tell him to do so.

Do coyotes pee on garbage cans? I suppose so.

Yes. I keep trying to pin this all on the coyotes. They are the Tricksters, after all. But, over the last few nights the coyotes have awakened me. Not Emerson. He doesn't even stir.

Yesterday on NPR I heard about a new battery of statistics concerning hunger. There is an unconscionable amount of people who are going hungry across the globe. Starving. Children, elders, mothers, are going hungry. Of course, we may think this is going on, or even know it is... somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away from The Wine Country.

No. People live down on the river bar in the bushes. Our little town is at the end of the bus line. Homeless veterans ride the bus up from S.F., set up camps at the edge of the river. They look hungry, gaunt, ragged. They don't like dogs, as I have startled them on my walk with Luna (Before Emerson) and seen them race across the river to get away from us. Dammit. There are hungry people right here.

So: Maybe somebody is eating my pumpkins and squash. I hope so. Emerson is still a pup, and is still learning his Life Lessons. I'm learning mine, too.

Love and Hugs.
xoxoLC

Fall

2010-10-12T21:22:00.000-07:00

The red has begun. The blush. We know the goodness that is plumping up within. No wonder this fruit is a symbol of prosperity, of fertility. It is just so full. And I wait, almost holding my breath, through the beautiful, shorter days, burning hot mid-way, cooling with the lengthening nights, wait for the skin to crack, to reveal the dark red seeds. Party time: I am developing an understanding of the Acorn Woodpeckers who know well when it is time to harvest and stash.

Today I gathered the winter squash. Ooohh. Yes. I am envisioning soup. Baked squash. Yum. It has been many years since I have grown these. Last year friends gifted us with homegrown Butternuts and seriously, there is nothing on the planet quite so good. I sure hope my friend Nancy brings home some of that stupendous French burre; oh, I better stop before I make myself hungry.

Yes. I love egg photos. There is just something so pleasing about them. It's the same thing that Hafiz speaks of, something Divine. I suspect that their shape and color has always pleased the human eye.

Bounty.
Beauty.
Abundance.
Seasonal changes.
Movement.
Flexibility.
Rich color.
Warm wind.
Coyote howl.
Floating leaves.
Yellow.

It's a grateful kind of prayer, I guess, opening to the gentle Fall.
Love and hugs.
xoxoLC

Hmmmmmmm.

2010-10-08T14:02:00.000-07:00

Past, present and future.

xoxo

On my mind

2010-10-02T21:26:00.000-07:00

Tierra Vegetables is a family operated, organic, sustainably-farmed farm. I first met them when they sold pumpkins and the most remarkable winter squash I'd seen since moving back to California from Oregon. They sold their produce at the Healdsburg Farmers Market, and that meeting was about 20 years ago.

It rained today! The frost isn't on the pumpkins yet, thank goodness. But the wetness brought the smells of Fall close. The farm stand was open, though not too many people were there yet, just me and one other customer.

Autumn really is one of my favorite times of the year (along with Winter, Spring and Summer). How lucky we are to live and breathe this sweet suggestion of a rainstorm today.

Fall brings us many variations of the cabbage family. This is a cauliflower brushed with purple. I purchased a beautiful cabbage, a pile of strawberries, marrow fat beans, new-crop dry beans, broccoli, and because I said, "Hay!" I earned a free tomato! See what fun it is to shop local?

These melt in your mouth. And before they get there, they just amaze with their mmm-mm scent, and ruby red smartness.

Oh, and these are mine, too. Just how they hang out on the scales is classy. Makes it easy to be a photographer. Did you know that Eggplants, tomatoes and potatoes are all related? They are in the "Nightshade" family, which you may remember, can be quite deadly.

Now. What is on my mind, is that this past week a new Whole Foods has opened in N. Santa Rosa. There is another one on the southeast side, and there is one just west of Santa Rosa in Sebastopol (about 10 miles away, give or take a mile). The new Whole Foods is stupefyingly enormous. It is now the centerpiece of an established, and suffering, mall. It is the big-box of "natural" foods. Evie had visited there yesterday, and was floored. Overwhelmed. Crazed.

She said it was FULL of shoppers. She said they have signs all over touting "Green!" shopping, green living.

What is the carbon footprint of an eggplant grown in S.Carolina, shipped to Texas and "distributed" to Montana, Michigan, Washington and California?

To add to this line; it is now "trendy" for various corporate wineries to host their own "Farmers Markets" and offer wine and chocolate,etc., to further entice clientele. Frances Ford Coppola and Kendall Jackson are two of the worst. It isn't enough that the whole area has become a monoculture of grape vines, that a county which had one of the most diverse agricultural cultures now has very small pockets of food-growing soil in production. The "must have all of the customers" mentality has gone crazy.

Now. Let me speak to the customer: Be loyal. Your farmer needs you. Whole Foods is not that good for you. "Convenience" is a myth. Do not purchase produce that is grown out-of-state. Really.

Tierra Vegetables garden. Year 'round crops are available, which is the most healthy way to eat. It is the most healthy for your body, for the land, and for our dear friends and neighbors, the farmers.

So: find the farmers nearest you and visit them. Purchase their produce. Talk with them, encourage them, send your friends.

Oh, one last thing: Whole Foods labels their produce, and they say this or that peach is "local." Ask them where the peach is from and you may be surprised to find that their idea of "local" is very different than yours, or the dictionary's definition. Most if not all local peaches are gone, now.

It's late. I have heard the woooo-wooooooo-wooooo! of Coyote. I am going to the Giants ballgame tomorrow, and that is another story that needs to be told, but first I must go to bed.

Love you!
xoxoLPC

October 1st

2010-10-01T10:25:00.000-07:00

Annie Belle McCleod Paine

Today is my Grandma Annie's birthday. This is my favorite photo of her, and this is an awful scan, as it is, I am sure, a scan of a scan of a scan. But, you get the picture: she is swinging, even "pumping" and I love the half-smile on her face. She is visiting her daughter's family in San Rafael; when, I do not know.

She was the eldest daughter of a Scottish family, born before 1900; like 1889! (I am not sure, but I know that her youngest sibling, Uncle Vic, was born in 1900.) As a child, I used to beg her to tell me about "the olden days, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese!" I so wish that I could remember all that she told me.

Her family drove a team of horses, she used to tell me. She learned how to drive the team. Being the eldest daughter, child care was her job from very early in her life, as she was a member of a large family. I was enthralled with Little House On the Prairie images that her stories conjured, but she would also remind me that it wasn't all that easy. In other words, she worked very, very, hard, from very early on in her life.

She was born, a second generation Californian, in the hills outside of Ferndale, California. Her own children were born at Grizzly Bluff, which is a little closer in to Ferndale. At that time, there were many communities in the valley, all linked to the town, but far enough out to have their own schools, maybe a store and a post office.

Of course, I knew her in Larabee, where she and her husband had moved when her kids were young. Again, she lived in a very isolated outpost, working long hours to keep a dairy ranch and inn afloat. Recently my brother, Bob, made the remark, "They had all they needed, except money." In other words, the family was incredibly self-sufficient, they grew all of their food, including meat, they hunted (in season, of course), grew and harvested the hay crop for the animals, corn, and a large vegetable garden. Their "cash crop" was cream, from the Jersey cows, occasional boarders, odd jobs like hemming trousers, and Grandma was the Post Mistress for a time. Imagine what that must have paid.

She was tough, and stories have been told of her terrible aim with a gun. She noticed her cat staring at something in her pea patch, and she went out to discover a rattle snake. She returned to the house and got the shot gun and blew it and the pea patch to smithereens. She was also known for her kindness and generosity. She'd feed a "tramp" before she sent him back on his way to the railroad tracks which ran behind her house and barn. As a child I was horrified at the thought of finding a "bum" in the hay mow, but find them they did, long before I was born. I also understood that she was not to be crossed, though I never knew exactly what that meant. I do know that I have inherited a certain "look" which can drop a kid over backwards, make cats scatter, and stop a Labrador in it's tracks. I used this "glance" often in high school, marvelling at how certain boys would be floored, "Gawd," they'd say. "Don't look at me like that..." I see this same "black-eyed look" in all three of my daughters, even the one with green eyes.

My granddaughter is named after her. Annie. Of course, I wish that Grandma Annie could've seen all of my grandchildren. She'd have been proud and amazed, this I know.

Happy Birthday, Grandma.
I love you.
oxoxoLPC

How Nonnie Sees the Harvest

2010-09-29T11:40:00.000-07:00

Yes. I admit it: I am a sucker for grandkids and puppies. Not being able to help myself, I have decided that this is just the state of things in my world. Some day in the misty and distant future I may return to painting and writing something serious. Maybe.

Sarah called this morning, and I moved the dog-to-the-Lake appointment to later. Maybe tomorrow. Drove out to the Ranch, and was met by my favorite farmer, Thomas. He is full of amazing facts.

Here come more grapes! In 1/2 ton bins. Wow. Lots of grapes.

Harvest is in its first days, will go on for some time. The whole year's work and salary is right here, in these bins. Aromatic, beautiful, glistening black in the sunlight. Back home, I hear the Harvest all around me. I heard it night before last, when loud beeping and crashing bins and diesel engines and Spanish voices above the din woke me around 2:17 a.m. I don't mind being awakened by this bustle. Lord knows, it is a miracle to have a viable Harvest this year.

Thomas is learning first hand his connection to the Earth and its cycles.

I am a grateful Nonnie, with a camera.

xoxoLC

Yes. A gooood weekend.

2010-09-27T14:22:00.000-07:00

This is a portrait of a happy man.

My morning meditation.

Early fall. Maple considering yellow.

The crew arrives, and sets to fun.

Meet Sweet Potato, the newest Grandpup.

Sorry. Most of the rest of everything is all Sweet Potato.

She loves the river like all us waterdogs.

She's trying to get Skyler to come to her.

He does! Oh no! Whine whine whine!

She can do it!

Real dog-paddling.

And reaching shore really got her going!

Yes. After this came some serious napping.

More gas, more wood splitting.

Smile, Gina

;-)

Can you see the round of Fir?

They left several piles. Big piles. Beautiful hot fires for winter.

And that was very fun.

xoxoLC

Slipping Upriver Again

2010-09-24T09:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday over at Gladys's I picked a basket of itty bitty figs. Yes. Food of the Goddess. Seductive.

The Swiss Chard loves these coool nights and warm days. The garden is a magical place. I love to get in with my lens and witness the unfurling. Reminds me of the miracles of daily living.

"Give me spots on my apples, but leave me the birds and the bees!" Oh, and my mother used to say, among other compliments, "Beauty is only skin deep." I prefer Joni Mitchell's line.

As you can tell, I am very busy packing, feeding the animals, organizing the ice chest, doing the laundry and getting ready to go to work, after which we are eating dinner and driving off into the North Country. But, I just had to show you those figs and Golden Delicious, because they are!

The dogs are off to their other favorite place to play for the weekend. Wayne and I and our "boys" and Gina and Sweet Potato are going to spend time together at a wonderful place my friend N2 has shared with us over the past years. The weather is forcasted to be hot, the nights cool. A hot day by the Eel River sounds divine to me. Sweet Potato is my newest Grandpup, and there will be photos!

So. Seriously. I am sticking with my list and doing everything I have avoided or forgotten over the last week. My carrot is that I get to read and write and sleep and walk and swim and walk some more and eat and talk and watch my three favorite guys for two whole days! Not to mention hanging out with Gina and the puppup.

Yes. Taking figs and apples.

Have the best weekend ever!
xoxoLC

Autumn Equinox

2010-09-22T21:44:00.000-07:00

Started... yes. Today I began the garden clean-up. It is the first day of Fall, and does feel so different than the Spring Equinox. Tonight is as long as today was; I am so looking forward to climbing into the sheets and comforter and Wayne and the big black dog. No really, Emerson doesn't sleep there all night, just long enough to where he feels me begin to relax then he moves his girth to the floor.

I picked most of the Heirloom tomatoes. See that dark one? Note to self: plant at least 100 of those next year. It is beyond description for deliciousness. It is dark, sweet, smokey. This is the last one, and I only got about five of them. Yes. I do hope that there are 100 seeds in there. The rest of these are from a plant called Cuban Yellow. Hahaha. Mislabeled. The label also says that this plant will be covered with "yellow cranberry-sized tomatoes in profusion." Nope. Not. Regardless, these too, are sweet and not to be missed. It makes me melancholy to realize that the short tomato season of 2010 is o-v-e-r.

Shhh. There is a miracle occurring in the pumpkin patch. The vines are still green and strong, and I see that there are still tiny pumpkins setting on the vine, which will never mature. There are these that seem to grow inches daily. They are gorgeous and flat and serrated and the most luscious orange imaginable.

Startling. You know what? I read stories to a three year old girl and a two year old boy today on my daughter's couch. I was the "substitute" daycare person. The little girl chose fairy books, so I read several stories which ended happily ever after with a kissing prince. I found myself making up more palpable details and saying to her, "What do you think of that?" and she'd smile a toothless, wide smile and say, "The Prince kithess her! She'th sooo beautiful!" Then we'd move to a tractor book.

These are Cinderella pumpkins. Actually, they are a "French Pumpkin." I can almost imagine the mice turning into thundering Budweiser Percheron's with flowing white manes and tails, huge pounding hooves, dashing footmen in scarlet coats, glass slippers, beautiful gown and strains of music settling in under the broad round leaves.

Yeth. We do grow up and some fall "in love." I notice that happily-ever-after takes on a moment-to-moment quality, that it is important to cultivate and nurture this in-love. Humble is important. Growth and letting go take on equal importance. Support and acceptance seem integral to this process of growing beyond our Cinderella-meet-the-handsome-Prince bodies. Love gets bigger.

A line jumped out this morning in my Spiritual practice reading: Faith without joy is not entirely genuine... If you are not happier as a result of your faith there is probably something wrong with it. Faith in God should bring a deep feeling of happiness and security no matter what happens on the surface of life. The prayer for today: I pray that my horizons may grow ever wide. I pray that I keep reaching out for more service and companionship.

Sweet dreams: May they be peopled with kissing and good things far beyond any heretofore imagined, wide horizons, joy, and a faith that carrys you lightly, sweetly, settling you in Love.

Blessings.

xoxoLC

Play Date

2010-09-21T17:26:00.000-07:00

We met at the Lake. Emerson got to meet two real pretty girls. Maggie is looking right at us and I cannot remember her sweet little sister's name. I wish that I had taken my camera down to the water, because it was a beautiful sight to see the Labs, the water, the sky, the breeze, the sand, the mud.

As you can see, having them sit for the camera with the treat in my hand while they did the "sitting" was clearly annoying to two of the three. Maggie didn't care. She knew a treat is a treat, regardless.

Catherine asked me if I wash off the dogs after a trip to the Lake. No, I said. They're clean after their swim, as far as I am concerned. We joked around about her needing to take a shower, because her girls had loved her up as she sat on the beach, she had sand all over her face and wet clothes. Oh God. What makes boy-dogs tick? Right about then Emerson nudged her, and then peed on her back!!! For cryin' out loud! Omigoddess. Well, I will say right now that Catherine was (and is) a true dog lover. Nope. She did not throttle him.

One time at the dog park, a young male Weimaraner let loose all over my shoe and leg. Of course, I made the whole breed wrong and bad, not to mention his young owners. Ah yes. Of course.

My guess is that Wade-The-Miracle-Dog-Trainer may not have an answer for this one. I have no idea as to what to do. Maybe as he "matures" into an amazing adult Labrador, he will not do such a crazy thing ever again. I may google "dog who pees on people" and see what comes up. Meanwhile, I so appreciate Catherine's calm, well, I mean she did calm down and I do appreciate that, because I was still screaming. I appreciate that she is interested in another Labbie Play Date, maybe even walking on the trail after the rattlesnakes have gone into hibernation.

Yes. There are distinct advantages to girl dogs. Luna has never, ever done such a thing. Neither did Meat Pie. Girls rule!

So, Thank You, Catherine! Let's walk on the trail in SR, soon! Emerson does know how to walk on leash pretty good...

xoox
LC

Oh, and PS: Luna gets her turn with playdate and walks. I am using my big, human brain, and keeping myself healthy and in one piece by exercising them one-at-a-time, until they are old and shakey, or at least reliable on-leash.

Misty rain, tomatoes and Chimney Swifts

2010-09-20T21:40:00.000-07:00

The clouds piled up and lowered right down to the ground, and rain floated all around. Driving into town, it looked as though the sky had fallen. Oh no, I thought, the tomatoes will crack! As soon as it cleared up, which it did right after my nap, I took my baskets out to pick the Heirlooms. These yellow giants are called Lemon Oxheart. Mine took forever to ripen, but look! Isn't this amazing?

I still think that a yellow tomato is just kind of weird. The photo doesn't show how huge they are.

My favorite, and first serious foray into the Heirloom tomatoes is the Mortgage Lifter. During the Depression years a man grew these and sold them to pay off his mortgage, and he did it successfully. They are very very good. Very "tomato-y."

And these are one of the Brandywines, and oh are they delicious. I have pink, yellow, and these amazing orange ones. Oh, and a dark one. IF it were daylight, I'd go out and read the labels, but it's dark and windy, so just trust me.

Tonight our Writers Group was two of us, so we took a field trip out to where the Vaux's Swifts congregate to fall into their chimney for the night. Notice the jet. It is way higher than the swifts, but I thought it was a pretty amazing sight.

The birds hang out in our area for a couple of weeks before they continue their journey south to Mexico. They fly many miles every day, and come back to this chimney to roost.

From here they fly over to the Sacramento River Delta for their breakfast!

It is incredible to sit under this spectacle. The birds gather as the sun is setting, and at a given moment they begin their descent into the chimney. They make many passes, and do not crowd one another. No one pushes or shoves, whines or honks their horn. A bunch of them will go in and the rest circle until all is arranged and well within the chimney, then the next layer goes in. We stayed until the last bird entered.

It was a great field trip.

xoxoLC