I’ve always just called it the cedar chest but I think it was meant to be a hope chest. The place where a woman gathers her linens and household items in preparation for marriage. Later to become the repository of baby books, dried faded roses and a maribou feather stole worn to prom some fifty years ago. Continue reading
“In the middle of moving” is how the email note started that was from my friend this week. I’m not sure where the move is to but I am sure that he’ll look up when he lands and steps into lifestyle changes and he’ll find fierce inspiration in all he does. ‘Cause that’s just how he rolls. Continue reading
As a junior high school kid in Oregon in the 60’s…yes, I wore saddle shoes. We were cool in saddle shoes and knee socks and plaid kilts. Continue reading
My friend is an avid hunter. Something I’m not. I don’t deal well with dead animals or the killing of them which makes me a supermarket hunter.
I’ve had talks with my friend about his love of hunting with his pride in providing for his family and pride in the hounorable hunt. In that I learn of his respect for the animals he hunts as well as an abiding wonder as he sees a herd of elk or bears lumbering across the field below his tree stand or a wild turkey by the side of the road. And he shares the excitement of watching deer and seeing a moose lift his huge head as he munches soft meadow greens.
My friend tells me of all this. He sends pictures of the animals he sees as he works in the wilderness of the rocky mountains. He shares a zen with the wildlife around us and when he sent me this picture he was in awe of the wildness and depth his camera caught. I like that about him.
I believe the friendships we are gifted with kind of show up when we need them most for our souls. This sounds all lofty, but think about it…… think about the friendships beyond Facebook friends; the friendship that is there for you alone that isn’t measured by likes. The friendship this little blue bird has with Tanya. Continue reading
Well, maybe I’m not vintage cool, but my sewing machine certainly is! As I took it out to hem the chopped off sleeves of a shirt, I was thinking about the forty years I’ve had this little Genie. Continue reading
I don’t know what people expect you to be doing when you’re not punching the timecard in the 9-5 world. When you’re in between contracts, or stepping slowly into new opportunities (as they say which is also known as job hunting and interviewing and that cycle).
Me? Well, I’ve been doing some creative stuff with flower pots. And watching the news. Lots and lots of news. Continue reading
He said “I found another Agate for you” as he pulled a little rock out of the pocket of his dog-walking jacket and put it on the kitchen counter. Continue reading
It’s not really a gate, but that’s what we call it. “Get the gate and close off the living room. Get the gate and close off the deck.” Keeping toddlers safe from tumbling down deck stairs; keeping muddy dog prints off the carpets. Continue reading
As we hit our teenage years, our Mom is around sometimes like an unwanted appendage weighing us down and sometimes like a crutch holding us up. We’ve all been there; “ohhhhh Mom, really??” and the phone calls “Mom……..it’s me…”.
It’s a hard transition from being a needy child to being a teenager and then to a young parent ourselves doing it our own way. And all along the way our Mom is there trying to fit into our ever changing outlook on what she should be for us. This isn’t a bad thing; it’s a natural progression. Maybe it’s also a natural progression to soften the edges and embrace her with respect and a deep connection as we age along with her, and to long for missed opportunities after it’s too late to take them.
I look at this picture of my Mom from very long ago and wonder what dreams she had. I never asked her. I never knew since we didn’t have much of a relationship beyond my childhood, and then not anywhere close to knowing what she dreamed of. I feel sad for that.
Ask your Mom what she dreams of. Then love her for her dreams.
This time of year picking up toilet paper and milk at the store pretty much assures a trunk full of plants too. We are manic with our spring-time planting and rightly so. Continue reading
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