goin' home

Have kind of lost the thread of this month's topic, but will finish the month with one final musing.  It was while listening to Dvorak's music that I got the idea for these home reflections.  He composed one of his best-loved works while he was staying smack in the middle of Iowa.  There's much more I could ramble on about in good musicology style, but I will trust that should you want to improve your academic and historical understanding, you will look it up yourself.

One of my favorite renditions of this song is by the gorgeous soprano voice of Kathleen Battle.

As I have previously mentioned, I've had a bit of a gypsy-esque life.   Even though I have not officially had a mailing address in the above pictured Chehalem Valley, it is home to me.  As I zip around the curves coming out of Portland, some kind of peace always envelops me.   I feel fortunate to have roots in this place.  And I feel lucky that I get to be there next month.

Happy August--the month of blackberries, at least in my corner of the world.

is it really Friday?

Yeah!  That means poetry.  My gloxinia is blossoming in celebration that not only is the week coming to a close, but also this month.  I know it's not healthy to wish away bits of life, but it is a relief to turn this calendar page.

always, at the end of every day

It comes to this: the fall to bed. Despite Herculean hopes to repair
the broken furniture, to birth works of unassailable beauty,
despite a heart with its tongue out, panting for love, or the hawk stare
we train on our most extravagant intentions. Despite the toothy
rigor of the bad habits we can’t break, and the soul-trials of discipline
which repeatedly establish our guilt. Despite these wayward exiles from joy,
we fall to a set of pillows, cotton sheets, a mattress, and make a cocoon
of our bodies. We won’t admit it, but we’re designed for rest, too, a buoy
to save us from the rough seas we insist on weathering. Look how little
it takes for that kind of surrender. How easy we can be, how gentle. 

This poem was written by Maya Stein, a San Francisco poet and writer who I am most pleased to say is coming to Saint Meg's in September to do a creative writing workshop.

Happy Friday everyone!

freshly minted

My aunt gave me some clippings of peppermint and lemon balm at the end of June with the advice to grow them in a container.

Now I see why.  I swear you could almost sit and watch these sprigs grow. Both herbs make a delightful addition to ice cubes during sweltering afternoons.  I look forward to drying some later for autumnal teas.

the bribery continues

misty moon rise

my cheerful flowers watch me journal each morning

I think I may have a recessive French or Italian gene with my love affair with cheese.  Today's bribe featured one perfectly ripe heirloom tomato with fresh feta and herbs from my garden.  Eaten, of course, while sitting upon the sandy barnacles.

Even after a full year of living up here, the ferries still enchant.

heat wave, we're havin' a heat wave

the temperature's rising....and so is the moon.

If you want to know the comfy-est place in the house, observe the pets in the household.  Here's Bogart taking up a good 60% of the bed.  He's nicely aligned in the best path of the fan's air, as well.

As it was 84 when I left my house in the morning, I knew I needed to be at the shore by late afternoon.

happy toes

I bribed myself today.  I promised myself that if I played nicely at the Arts Camp at which I'm teaching this week (grouse, grouse--for FREE) that I could sit at the beach and enjoy fresh Washington cherries and a chunk of Manchego cheese.

I behaved and thus earned my beach outing.  Being high tide, there was only a bit of sand to walk upon, but it was still lovely.

There are bits of historical trivia as well as handy oceanic guides etched into random sidewalk blocks along the miles of beach.

A different shot of the over-flowered house; this time I tried to juxtapose it against the modern condo beside it.

One more glance at the water and then it's time for errand running.

scenes & sights

last night's moonrise--I am taking these photos with my phone, so don't have the lens capability to capture both Mt. Rainier and the moon in the same frame.  But the twilight is exquisite.

I didn't even know that beans had formed, but as I was watering, I brushed aside the leaves and voila!  My first green beans of the season!

These are the hardy flowers which survived the aphid infestation which occurred last week.

summer thyme...

I know it's teeny, but I enjoy my greenery so much.  It astounds me how much difference a few pots and planters make on the balcony.

Green onions, poblano chili, tomato plants, lemon verbena, lemon balm, peppermint, (a flowering plant which I keep forgetting the name) and my planter of violas.

ready for the saute pan

Dinner.  Or at least an appetizer.

delicious and delightful

Today was simply too gorgeous of a day on every level to not post a blog.  I was a guest of some generous people at the Olympic Music Festival.  For those of you who ever came to one of my gigs at the White Barn in St. Helena, this is very similar in design.

My ferrywards walk garnered me $.12!

Isn't my city lovely?

The outside of the venue.

When going on a picnic, you are assured of good eats when the hosts are Italian.  I neglected to take photos of the delish raspberries and creme fraiche which served as dessert.

Bits from the flower garden on the grounds.

Every proper garden ought to have a friendly scarecrow.

"Daisies are the happiest flower."  (I will donate my $.12 to anyone who can name the movie and the actress who speaks that line.)

There were also donkeys on the grounds.  How often do you get to pet a donkey and hear Mozart played by a professional string quartet?

We're having stunning sunsets right now and I am taking pictures of them all.  This is when I wish I could paint well.  Ah well, perhaps it is best to simply breathe and stare at the sky as the colours change.

hiatus

Juggling three part-time jobs, teaching lessons and taking Italian is all taking a toll on me.  Another childhood aphorism is to not say anything if you've nothing nice to say, so I am taking a rest from blogging while my life whirls on.  Back in awhile.  Enjoy your summer.

childhood chant

Ladybug!  Ladybug!
Fly away home.
Your house is on fire.

And your children all gone.

 

 

Have never quite understood that childhood poem, but it popped into my head when I found said ladybug on my pea plants today.  A nickel found on the library trek and a cooling trend are the delights of this day.  Stay tuned for tomorrow's adventure--I won a ticket to a local opera company's production of La Somunbula!

Homeward Bound

 (happy poppies on the way to the library)

Lyrics from the song which I performed last week will suffice for Poetry Friday as it's beyond too hot to think/create.   I'm still not sure that I like the meaning of this poem when I analyze it with any depth.  The music was swoopy and emotional--perhaps some poems are meant to only be lyrics and not read separately.

In the quiet misty morning
when the moon has gone to bed,
when the sparrows stop their singing
and the sky is clear and red,

when the summer's ceased its gleaming
when the corn is past its prime,
when adventure's lost its meaning,
I'll be homeward bound in time.

Bind me not to the pasture;
chain me not to the plow,
set me free to find my calling
and I'll return to you somehow.

If you find it's me you're missing,
if you're hoping I'll return,
to your thoughts I'll soon be list'ning,
in the road I'll stop and turn

Then the wind will set me racing
as my journey nears its end,
and the path I'll soon be retracing
when I'm homeward bound again.

by Marta Keen

huge, HUGE delight

Please admire my new window fan.  Keep in mind that I have one window which opens in this small aerie, and you will realize what a huge delight this is.  AND I have unending electricity with which to run it.  There have been epochs (as Anne-with-an-e would say) where I have had to choose which utility would be on and I'm happy to have them all functioning.  (I don't think that I mentioned in my previous rant on summer that the homicide rates spike during heat waves.  But there you have it.  I am not the only one who is irritable with the rise in mercury.)

One of the nicest things about FB (Facebook) is keeping in touch with former students.  Had the loveliest chat with R (yes, he is the one in the dress in the above photo from a state festival) about his summer job, his college major and his mature/improved view of the world.  Made me smile all afternoon and evening.

Bogart is doing his best nonplussed limp lying about during this heat.  With that furry coat, can't say that I blame him.

if home is where the heart is

then pretty sure my home is in Seattle's Central Library where there is a delightful Chocolate Cafe on the mezzanine level.   The library was just named one of the most influential architectural structures of this century.  Which seems a rather grand statement as this century is just beginning.

I'm still deciding what I think about the outside of the place, but the innards are quite nice.

A stripey sweet pea...although, I'm pretty sure the technical term is varigated.

mid-summer musings

While there are many delightful aspects to what I call la fille unique de la vie, one peril is getting dressed and out the door to one's up-front-and-in-the-spotlight career while having no other eyes checking the outfit.  Hence, it was far past time to get a full-length mirror.  As it is supposed to hit the 90s this week, decided to go to the local hardware store before they run out of fans and found mirrors on sale.

Been pondering my delight in my miniature garden.  I know as a child, I did not delight in anything to do with weeding or picking of any produce.  Perhaps there's a serenity in poking in the dirt.  I know there's delight in seeing things grow and bloom.

Perhaps it's a sense of rootedness.  I remember reading a friend's dissertation about growing up as a mission kid and I felt a resonance as I read her words.  There's a dichotomy of feeling as though I belong nowhere and as though I could fit in almost anywhere.   I recently counted up my mailing/street addresses.  I've 38 so far.  I'm 40.  I've attended four elementary schools, (Sierra View, Valley View, Kelso-Longview and Middle River) three high schools (Laurelwood Academy, Lincoln City [homeschool], Columbia Academy, four colleges for undergrad (Walla Walla University, Newbold College, Delta Community College, Pacific Union College) and five grad/continuing ed universities (University of Washington, San Jose State University, Dartmouth,  Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley and finally Westminster Choir College). I've three resumes--one for performing/auditions gigs and two for other jobs. 

Does this make me flaky or versatile?

It's no wonder I hold myself aloof from groups and why I feel so restless and gypsy-like.   I have packing and moving down to a two-day science.  I often wonder if I will ever root in one place  or commit to a community or career path.  Or if I will continue to waft about my entire life.

I have no conclusions to any of these ponderings.  But for now my soul is content as my tomatoes are turning red prior to our heat wave.  And for now, my roots are here.