A Weekend of Healing

Everyone knows that the face of their dog is a sight to behold...
I do not hold "The World's Biggest Authority" title, or even the world's most beautiful dogs.. I just talk and write a lot about them!    Who knew a Dalmation Pit Cowdog could be so noble?

Wayne and I and Luna went to a cabin in the woods above Mendocino this weekend past.  We went with no agenda, except to find and pick huckleberries before the rains came.  Wayne had the beginnings of a sore throat, so he had the opportunity to relax with the biggest job being to open the front door in the dusky dark.  We went down into the village for supper at the Pub after building a fire to cozy-up the place.  Luna had to bark manically at the neighbor dog who was just doing his big-guy job of guarding his flock of white turkeys (a chaotic moment, that one).  As we entered the pub we were met with a noisy crowd, one empty table (ours!), warm golden light, and music from the late '60's, early '70's.  The waitress looked like one of our girls, and most of the patrons & patronesses looked like they were high schoolers...  such a weird deja-vu.  It smelled and looked like a bar, circa 1971 in Arcata, Ca.  Our conversation was a little limited because of the din, but we had a delicious meal replete with garlic fries and gooood cole slaw, oh, and excellent NY style pickles!  

The next morning we had coffee from heaven, and a slow breakfast.  Our conversation explored and lingered in the little dark places of our hearts where grief has taken refuge.  We played with Luna, and made forays out to the brush to check for berries, and to the woodshed for tiny pieces of wood for the fairy stove.  I spent time in the Morning Pages.

Eventually Wayne and Luna went out with a bucket (a cooking pot, really) on the Holy Huckleberry Quest.  I continued to write, as I was on a tear.  When Luna returned to the cabin and commenced thundering around throwing noisy things, I got up, got dressed, got my own pan and went outside, into the grey drizzling coastal morning.  Well, it was noon by now!

We discovered that Luna could be off-leash and stay with us.  She crawled through the underbrush like it was her first-calling.  She begged for berries, and I showed her how to pick her own, which she did.  She leaped over logs and crashed around nearby, playing catch with limbs and chunks of bark.  We picked a couple of gallons of berries... yes, this is the perfect task for Wayne, because, as we all know, the best berries grow far above my head.

Before we left for the coast, Wayne and I had gone up to look at and be with, the Labrador pups.  They gathered around Wayne's size 15 shoes and each of the pups grabbed a shoelace; it looked as though it was going to be a most interesting Maypole!  They flopped over for belly-rubs and bit his fingers, and that is was what got to him!  "Meat Pie drew blood every day! Luna never did..."  Seriously, that isn't all that got to him, but it made us laugh.  We did it. Decided. Said yes to Baby Boy Purple.

At the cabin we talk.  We affirm our Life and Love.  We laugh.  We eat.  We sleep.  And then we clean up our tracks and slip back out the lane and back to Highway 1 which brings us back to our little house.  We will pick up the pup on Monday, live and trust each moment from this spot of Now, of Love.

These are the Huckleberries.  Full of all the vital nutrients of the forest and coastal air.  Full of long, meditative moments in the brush.  Full of childhood memories, and soon to fill up a pie crust with the darkest purple nirvana!

And the new little guy... his name is Emerson.

xoxoLC

Homecoming

Ahm soooooooooo tyyyrrrrdddd.

Asleep under the chair.  In a week he will not fit here, so we are enjoying the view while it lasts.

Look at the little black toenails.  We are in love again!

Hopefully we will be sleeping soon, he's got the hiccups right now.

xoxoLC

Household Politics & Philosophy

He is old now, though that may not be true.This is Toby.  He is getting up there in years.  While not the last cat left over from my kids's moving into adulthood, he has been with us the longest.  Let's see:  When did Sarah graduate from high school?  She has been married for 7 years, had been in NY for 3, did this and that for some time, Annie is 6 and Thomas is 4.  Yeah, she found Toby, I mean he found her, one day when she was walking to the office from high school with a cake pan with left-over chocolate cake in it, maybe she was a freshman, and she had to put the pan down to adjust her books and backpack, and this tattered kitten flew out of the bushes and lit square in the cake pan and started gobbling cake.  Cats don't even eat cake, do they?  So that makes him about 17, don't you think?  I said, "No." when our receptionist, Barbara called me for Sarah, saying, "...he's cute, real pretty, and Laura, Sarah is crying and didn't want to call you because you would say no."  "Tell her to walk down to the shelter, they are real nice there.  No.  The answer is no... I wanted a Siamese."  I am not even exaggerating when I say that that very morning I had a thought that went something like, I could find a Siamese kitten for me, just me...  Barbara was patient, had been around me enough.  "He is a Siamese, Laura, and he is hurt."  Aaarrrggggghh! I'll be there in 15 minutes.  And so, a billion years later, Toby and I are still good friends.  He is an avid gardener, though he is a little grumpy and possessive if I get too close to his stand of cat nip.  He used to leap upon my back and lay down when I was bent over the flower bed pulling weeds.  He plays tag with Luna, can still jump to the top of the 5 foot fence, and make his way over to the peace and quiet of our neighbor's shed roof, where he curls up for many warm, sunlit naps a day.  He is 100% outside cat, because he insists on peeing on corners, on the broom, on the birdcage stand, you name it, he pees on it. So every year at this time I start worrying:  where am I going to put him for the winter?  Last winter was mild, and we have wood heat, so I kept the back door open a crack for him to come and go, which worked pretty well.  He slept on the washing machine, and I kept his rug fresh and dry, and he loves the warmth of the dryer.  This year I am not going to worry.  I am a new woman, I refuse to worry about anything.  Toby and I have it made.  Period.  He always comes in when he is wet.

All three cats gang up on Luna.  Tigger leads the Nasty Gang.  They corner her, and then Tigger swats her, hard.  She slinks, and tries to get away.  Tigger swats her again.  Pixie snarls and hisses.  Toby appears to just watch.  Luna cries.  Of course, I know nothing until I hear this pathetic howling/yelping, and I run to the rescue.  Tigger swaggers off, and Pixie shape-shifts into the shadows.  Toby watches, big blue eyes watching.

There must be a deeper message here.  At any given moment I can be melancholy about my brood growing up and being adults with spouses, work and children, soccer, school, commutes and all of it.  I am also aware of this exalted place of freedom.  I can choose to "not worry" a little easier than when the girls were teens, or the boys were teens.  My creative life can have my full attention.  

Part of the message is this:  the animals choose us.  Perhaps we never know the whole story, the why of it.  The message is in the choice, the choosing.  Who am I in this moment?  

Oh, that may be the whole message!  Ahh!  Thank you!

xoxoLC

Harvest Pizza

That shadow is the avocado pit growing on the window sill...
I could tell that this was going to be gooood!   
That tomato, by the way, is called "Pink Accordion," and it is quite musical.
Seriously, this smelled so good the house nearly melted.

Yum.

xoxoLC

Harvest: pick, chop, stir!

The tomatoes are done, really done, and it seems too early.  Last year I harvested up to and through Thanksgiving.  This year they seemed to be in a rush, the Mortgage Lifters all came on at once with a beautiful crop of 1-pounders... the week before my trip to Whidbey Island.  I roasted  pans-full and they are bagged and in the freezer.  They will bring summer back to quite a few winter meals.
This is the newest toy on the Lane, and it makes garden clean up a breeze, for which I am so grateful!  One of my favorite colors, too!  And these guys are a team, as you can see...

Spiritual Practice

Every single morning we do The Morning Pages.  3 of them.  Write. Writewritewrite.  And, write some more.  Sometimes it is exhausting.
Then, we read.  Uplifting, spiritual stuff.  Then we move into meditation and prayer... 

our favorite part.
Sometimes The Morning Pages take us on unexpected journeys.
This is a great way to start our (&your) day.  Gets us centered.  Grounded.  Ready for Everything.

xoxoLC

Rings, circles, music

Plop!  Something out of the clear blue hits the water a moment before a slight pressure releases the mechanisms of the camera.  Concentric rings immediately take off on their journey from an epicenter, like earth-quakes and music.  Not like a spiral.  Yet, are these rings any less connected?
A song, written by Kaitlyn.  It appears to be a drum piece, until she sings her composition, "This one I wrote for my whole family."
The composer-ess.  Yes, we are related.  She makes a mean cup of tea, and can climb to the highest corner of the kitchen cupboard to find Nonnie the Magic Markers, which are up there because otherwise Kai(the little brother) would get them.  She offered me black tea, like I requested, and when I showed her the empty box she peered into shadows with a scowl, "We have a serious mouse problem."  
These little people are profound.  Of course they are adorable, and I love the names people have for their grand babies:  "The Slimers" one friend calls hers, always with a delighted laugh ringing through the syllables.  Within the circles I travel the babies are treasures.  My nieces and nephews have babies, my daughters all do, my close friends are adding two new ones in the coming months.  

Babies.  Brave babies.  Courageous parents.  The rings vibrating out from the center.  The surface of the pond reflecting blue.

Out at the lake this morning, a young couple was unloading their boat and piles of stuff out of the back of their small truck onto the ramp.  Two dogs romped around.  Luna and I were at the farthest point of the beach away from them.  One of their dogs, a Shepard X, tall with a blond tail arching over his back started toward us.  Oh no, this does not look good, and I threw the Luna's new-best toy as far out as I could.  I watched the young man vault down the rocks, and the dog strut-prancing closer.  I threw the toy out again, and LunaDog went after it.  All the while, as we set this rhythm, I failed to notice Dog #2 coming at us.

All components came together at once:  Big Dog, Young Man, Luna, the Toy, and the Surprise. Dog #2 was a two-ton English Bull Terrier, a girl.  She head-butted me away from Luna's toy, and dove into the water after it.  She used her considerable girth to position herself between the toy and Luna.  She took the toy!  She ran up the beach with it, certain of ownership.  "Oh no," the Young Man muttered to no one in particular, "good thing it's not a tennis ball." Quickly I realized that if it were a ball, it would disappear completely into that face, as he wrestled with her to retrieve the toy.

I have to say here, LunaDog stayed with me, sat when told, didn't even raise hackles!  (The Best Dog!) (of the moment)

I still want a puppy.  Three paintings are started.  The small quilt nears completion.  Figs ripen, purple-black, warm and heavy, more than I can use to make jam or 'Newtons.   Life is circle. Music is Life.  And while I have never heard of a mouse making off with all the tea bags, I am sure it's possible.

xoxoLC