journeys of a restless mind

not a blog post

Not A Poem

I don't want to write a poem,
don't care about rhyme or meter
or form. Stay away from me
with your thick black voice
like mud, like shit. I'm not
going to pluck or tear or rip
any damn thing out.

I will not lean over the sink
and shake the bottle
or don the plastic gloves.
I'm not plunging anything below
the surface where the oily bubbles
foam and float.

Don't ask me about it
because my hair is tangled
all around it like the roller
on the vacuum cleaner, so tight
that it won't roll
and the crumbs just lie there
on the rug
attracting bugs.

vacation lists

Mountain passes passed through:

Snoqualmie 3022 ft.
Sherman 5587 ft.
Wauconda 4310 ft.
Loup Loup 4020 ft.
Washington 5477 ft.
Rainy 4855 ft.

Dams viewed:

Grand Coulee
Albeni Falls
Ross
Diablo
Lower Baker
[Edited to add] beaver dam on pond off of Pend Orielle Lake

Milkshakes consumed:

Chocolate: 3
Chocolate peanut butter: 1
Raspberry chocolate chip: 1

Highest temperature logged: 95 outside of Omak, 4pm
Lowest temperature logged: 56 at dawn in Winthrop

Geo-caches found by Hijo and his uncle: 2
Number of times Hijo and I were told to turn back from geo-cache searches due to imminent dynamite blasts: 1

Boats ridden and/or propelled:

1 canoe
2 ferries
1 pontoon boat

Waterslides conquered by Hijo: 9
Rollercoasters conquered by Hijo: 0

Number of mosquito bites endured: too many to count
Number of horses forced to carry me up and down steep narrow trails: 1

Number of hotel rooms shared with my parents: 2
Number of alcoholic beverages consumed: fewer than you might think

crabby

el mar

View from our condo. 

I wish I could write as eloquently about the sea as Anne Morrow Lindbergh. It is so close to us, and constant. Wave after foamy wave comes in, rippling and then dissolving on the shore. The condo is set up with a windowed nook and a couch that faces the waves. We sit there and watch, mesmerized.

When you go to walk on the beach it is windy. You must turn your back to it after while, or it becomes too much. There are many broken shells, but Hijo found a whole sand dollar and brought it back inside.

Yesterday, two Coast Guard boats were doing some sort of drill in the surf. The little boats went up and down, up and down over the waves, and we all felt a bit seasick just watching them.

But mostly it is just the sea and the sky and the grass blowing in the wind.

Gravity

This weekend, I had plenty of opportunity to think about gravity. I went roller skating. It took me awhile, but I got the hang of it again, and before long I was whizzing around with a grin on my face. As I circled the rink I started seeing skating as a metaphor for life. You have to keep moving forward, be careful on the curves, and be sure to avoid obstacles. When something comes slamming into you or you lose your balance and fall, you get back up and keep going.

The next day I went to SAM where they were hosting a Calder exhibit. Alexander Calder is, of course, the man who invented the mobile. I came upon the first piece, a room-sized work made of wire and pieces of sheet metal painted white and cut into leaf-like shapes. It hung from the ceiling and was rotating very slowly. I was fascinated, and sat on a bench and watched it for a long time. I started to think about gravity a bit differently.

Forget the roller rink, I want my life to be like a Calder piece: complex and interesting, yet airy and perfectly balanced. Moved by the force of the air, individual parts may quiver and shake, but the whole is not upset. The balance remains. In Calder's hands, gravity becomes something else entirely. If I suspend myself just right, if I flex and flutter around a fixed point, if I counterbalance and flow, then maybe my life will have some of that grace and beauty. And gravity will not make me fall down.

I got a new lens, baby

Latourell Falls, Columbia Gorge, OR ~  December 28, 2009

Even though I went to Portland for the purposes of urban adventures, Mr. Phil and I decided to spend a day cruising along the edge of the Columbia Gorge east of the city. It is an area famous for its many waterfalls, the most famous of which is Multnomah.

Stone Bridge, Multnomah Falls, OR ~ December 28, 2009

(Here's a shot I took of Multnomah a couple of years ago.)

The falls are quite something in winter. The spray, rather than being something refreshing that falls on your face, freezes and coats trees, pathways and cliff faces with ice. The wind can be formidable when you are on the crest of the gorge. But you can retreat to the warmth of your car whenever you need to; you can cover a lot of ground. The sun is shining on the Washington side of the river. Let's drive across and head for home.

Bridal Veil Falls, Columbia Gorge, OR ~ December 28, 2009

(All fotos taken with my Nikon D80 and a Lensbaby Muse.) (Thanks, Santa!)

present times two

I got some lovely birthday presents this year. One of which was a plane ticket, which has to be the best kind of present. While I busy myself at work and home getting things settled so I can use said plane ticket later this week, I would like to share another one of my presents.

A co-worker surprised me with three bars of soap, each wrapped in heavy botanical-themed paper. This was my favorite design: bold and colorful, yet not too fussy. On a side note, is that really how you spell "pomegranate"?

bounty

I love the farmers market at this time of year, the slight golden cast of the light makes all the produce even more enticing. There are few things more picturesque than piles of winter squash in all their variety and bulbousness piled in a wooden crate with a small white-lettered sign written in chalk telling the price per pound. I bought two delicata, which do indeed have a delicate flavor and are especially tasty when grilled.

I also bought some plump cherry tomatoes and a pound of green beans, a ball of fresh goat's milk cheese from Mystery Bay Farm, and a loaf of organic walnut cranberry bread, a slice of which I'm eating now topped by - yes - the chevre. I might eat nothing else all day.

I find the market very therapeutic. It's best to go early, before the tourists wake up and when the selection is best. This being a small town, I see lots of people I know. The market is a good place for social chit chat, and nobody expects you to stop for too long before moving on to fill your shopping bag. (Of course you must bring your own bag.) I love it that most of the farmers are young people, many of whom have babies strapped across their chests. That organic farming is seen as a desirable way of life for young couples raising a family gives me hope for humanity. I love the clichéd beauty of the displays of produce in wooden crates or lined up on a table shining like jewels. There is a calm to be had walking through the market in the morning, even though there is activity all around.

Women weave, girls hand out dog biscuits, a man sings and plays guitar; the coffee wagon is busy, the lines at the bakery tent and the taco truck are long; the barbecued oyster stand sends salt-scented steam toward the bright morning sky. I gather my bounty and then I take it home.

road trip

favorite things #13 ~ apples left when all the leaves are gone