in the deep midwinter...

I'm home for the holidays again... Watching falling snow and mountain sunrises I can even sleep in for... (the good part about short daylight hours).

I arrived home in the dark and this was my first view of the mountains outside the window the next morning.

Just thought I'd share...

coast to coast...

Two months of Tuesday silence is an unprecedented record, I think. No... I did not fall off the edge of California into the Pacific (well, my camera actually did... but that's another story).

I am alive and well after making my way across the country in a leisurely fashion to the Other ocean and the nation's capital -- Washington, DC.

I'm here on a sort of exploration mission, lured by colorful friends and perhaps something a lot bigger, with dreams of new creative purpose and truer living. For the moment I have a half of a room and a whole closet in a corner brick house on historic Capitol Hill, four generous roommates and a few divinely imported old friends, and at least 6 coffee shops with wireless within a 7 block radius.

It's been an interesting three weeks of spontaneous meetings and rainbow chasing and watching the leaves change along with my life yet again...

So far so good.

california...

:: “California is a fine place to live—if you happen to be an orange.”
– Fred Allen

c'est fini...

The heatwave is long over and it's below 60 today... happily for Winston and his parka, and happily for me so I can wear my newly finished wool supersockes. :) They're my first pair knit all by myself (with help from Jolie, my knitting angel/missionary). I finished them this morning and I'm calling them ferry socks... (knit mostly on or while waiting for a ferry.)

I'm finishing a lot of things these days... Books I've borrowed, projects I've procrastinated, toiletries that I don't want to pack... I'm getting ready for the road again – or the air, as it may be. Next Tuesday I'm flying south... to California for a few weeks and to the Midwest after that... By the end of September I'll be all the way East until Christmas.

This fall in DC it will be nice to wear island memories on my feet...

island view...

:: “Maybe that's why we need islands... to remember ourselves. To remember how tenuous and miraculous we are... how we're out-to-sea, surrounded by horizons... how we're, at once, fragile and possible.”
– Sandy Gingras, How to Live on An Island

heatwave...

80s and 90s might not sound that bad to most, but try it without air conditioning... The pets are miserable... I felt especially sorry for Winston -- imagine wearing a parka indoors in 83 degrees. So I gave them both baths. Winston doesn't look very happy with me here, but I guarantee he feels better. :)

stripes and stars...

How I spent my first 4th of July in America in 7 years...

African-Alaskan-American boy...

Congratulations Adam. :) You can read about US citizenship day and other continuing adventures of Adam's family on his mom's blog...

full circle...

Today, as of 10 00 hours Liberia time, the dearly beloved M/V Anastasis/Victoria quietly began her final voyage... to an undisclosed resting place, 150 miles from Bombay, they say...

Months ago when I first heard the sad news of her retirement, I wrote something to help me process my emotions on the subject. Today I'm posting it in her honor as my last “ocean line”...

Buon viaggio, nave di angeli...




introductions...

Given that I've spent nearly four months with them now, I feel as though I should introduce you to my housemates. They are actually more like children... Although I swore I would never turn into one of those women who reverts to pets as a replacement for children, they really do have personalities that make them seem very much like little people.

Meet Winston and Bo. Today I took these portraits (cat and dog, respectively) for their absent family. Winston will stare at you all day but his expression rarely changes... Bo is more animated but it's much harder to get him to sit still for a photograph.

I have to say that although I'm not really a pet person, there's something very heartwarming about having a purring, fuzzy cat waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me every morning, and a wagging, happy dog greeting me at the door every time I come home.

:: “If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans.” – James Herriot

a day in pictures...

Sophie Joy Anderson modeling two of my creations...

:: “A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on.” –Carl Sandburg

queen of may...

Twenty-eight years ago, when I was four and she was the age I am now, my mother got into a little single engine airplane with her two little girls and followed my dad into the Alaska bush to start a new life. A life without phones, or running hot water, or grocery stores... A life with tundra, and bears, and a world of unknowns...

When I remember my childhood, my mother is always there, like the center of our solar system. Making an army quonset hut into a home... Turning a handful of kids into a Sunday School... Defying gale force winds to plant a garden...

Years have come and gone from that place and so has she... but today when I called her, it seemed fitting that she was back in that same little village, still faithfully at my dad's side, still making things beautiful wherever she is.

No matter where I am, home will always be where my mother is.

I love you mom.


:: “Home is where my mother is...”

state of pause...

Okay... even my sister has commented on my blog silence, so I guess it's time I write something, lest all those watching this space start worrying about me.

The silence is not for lack of time, or lack of things in my head. Maybe it's a lack of news. Or the feeling that as soon as I put something into writing it changes. That's probably the same reason it's taken me six weeks to write a life email update that is still unfinished. It'll come eventually. The short version is that my two month island housesitting gig has extended into a few more... and it's working out fine. Better than fine really.

I'm actually okay with this state of pause for the moment. I'm okay with living life a week or a month at a time. It's a freeing and refreshing feeling... But behind it there's also a distinct feeling that at some point I will have to release the pause button and resume...

Until then I'll just be happy with the present.

:: “It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters in the end.” – Ursula K. LeGuin

:: “I hope that real love and truth are stronger in the end than any evil or misfortune in the world.” – Charles Dickens

easter morning...

whatever the weather...

When I tell people I am considering taking up residence in the Seattle area, an amazing amount of first responses go something like, "What about the weather?"

I have this theory about weather. When you move to a sunny place, whenever there's a gray or rainy day you are inevitably disgruntled by the disruption of your fair weather. However, when you move to a place with the expectation it will be gray and rainy most of the time, when the sun comes out you are overjoyed with surprise.

It's all about expectations, you see. Which would you rather be lulled into taking for granted -- the rainy days or the sunshine? Would you rather be surprised by rain or by sun?

In my nearly two months of Puget Sound living, I haven't had a week without at least a little sunshine. And when the sun comes out in the pacific northwest, people know how to enjoy it. There's no staying indoors with the windows tightly closed to conserve the air conditioning... No putting off that picnic because the sun will still be out tomorrow. It's windows flung open and sunny day activities only -- lawn mowing, kite flying, and only absolutely necessary indoor occupations. It's about making the most of a good thing while it lasts.

There's also something satisfying about living in a place where people aren't dependent on weather conditions for their cheerfulness. I'd like to be included in that camp of people who don't read their moods off the weather forecast. Sunshine comes in more colors than yellow -- after all, where rain meets sun there are rainbows... Much of my island sunshine these weeks has consisted of visitors from near and far (wearing specifically the colors orange and green) -- they bring more brightness to my life than the longest day of sunshine.

I read something somewhere about life being best lived by contrasts. It's one of the reasons I want to live where there's four seasons, and unpredictable weather, and people who still know how to appreciate a sunny day.

I probably couldn't prove it, but sunshine is definitely brighter after the rain.

:: "Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine." – Anthony J. D'Angelo


[PHOTO BY RECENT SUNSHINE VISITOR STEPHANIE ZITO]

island spring...

It's in the air... today I sat on a bench overlooking Holmes Harbor and breathed in the smell of the world waking up from winter -- fresh pine and new grass, blossoming pink trees and dewy soil and the hazy blue bay... A place for breathing.

I'm a firm believer that there is beauty everywhere. But in some spots in the world, it's much easier to see than others.

In the spirit of spring, I decided to try to resurrect the sad-looking shrubbery at my domicile this week. Nevermind that I haven't really gardened since I grew giant radishes as a little girl -- but my mother's garden has always been impressive so I know it must be in my genes somewhere. It was a bit like an archaeological dig searching for intentional plants beneath the overgrowth. Was that one dead or only half-dead? Which ones are weeds? I had to call my mother to ask what a dead rhododendron looks like.

I'm only about a third done and this morning I woke up and almost couldn't move. Or maybe that was from the yoga? I don't know if it's the fresh air or the dirt on my hands or the sore muscles, but gardening is very cathartic. Especially when you feel literally unable to make decisions about anything else.

I have as many questions as I've ever had -- maybe more. I don't have answers or directions. But I have beauty and peace and fullness in the moments I am in. That's enough for now.

:: "Do nothing here." – advertising slogan for Whidbey Island

a new familiar...

I was born on an island. Perhaps that's one reason being on this one now feels so strangely like home. Tall trees and black sand beaches and a tinge of salt in the air bring back memories of my childhood, growing up with a beach for my backyard. My sister and I spent hours there playing, with the sand a canvas for our endless imaginations. We drew floorplans for our imaginary houses, and when we tired of one, walked a few yards away and started another. Bullhead kelp were our children, complete with stringy hair, and rocks and driftwood served nicely as furniture.

My beach trips 20-something years later usually involve a steaming latte and my ipod, but there's still room for my imagination. The smooth sand left when the tide goes out still makes me want to draw in it. Maybe it's something about knowing it will all be washed away with the next tide, and there's plenty of room to start over.


:: “The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea.” – Anne Morrow Lindbergh

celebrate love...

It's our parent's 36th anniversary today. I'm thankful to be one of the few 30-somethings left in America whose parents are still together and still love each other. Thanks Mom & Dad. Happy Anniversary from your children...

:: Where does the family start? It starts with a young man falling in love with a girl - no superior alternative has yet been found. – Sir Winston Churchill

ways to walk on water...

storylines...

I wrote this awhile ago but it feels like it belongs in this week...

:: :: ::

I've been thinking about life stories. How they are written... who writes them... Are the journeys of our lives predetermined for us? Or do our choices have more control over our destinies? What about the the things that happen to us that don't make any sense?

Have you ever done one of those creative writing games, where you each take turns adding one line to the story, then you pass it to the next person, so they can only see the one line written before? One person might start off writing a fairytale, and the next turns it into a mystery, and the next into a suspense novel... And the cleverest of all can take a story almost at a dead ending and with a few words bring it back to a whole new beginning again.

Maybe our life stories go something like that. Maybe there are a certain number of lines already written for us, from the beginning of time... Then there are a certain number of lines that we write ourselves... and a certain number of lines written by the people we choose to add to our lives... but there are also a certain amount of lines allowed to be written by other people that we don't necessarily have any control over.

Maybe it's the order of those lines that God can see, and rearrange, and supersede. And maybe, although he doesn't erase and doesn't delete the lines that have already been laid, if we only let him, he can write in between the lines, changing the meaning entirely.

Maybe things like the choice of where I live next is one of the lines I write myself. Maybe the man I will marry is one of the lines already written that hasn't been added to the story yet. And maybe what's amazing is that no matter what enters into my story, I can always trust God to bring me to the perfect ending.

Maybe it's more than maybe.

:: "We will not know unless we begin." –Peter Nivio Zarlenga

adventures of design man...

I really was planning on a more inspiring blog entry this week, but then I saw this... and couldn't help myself.

One of my personal missions in life is to eradicate the world of Comic Sans. No, it is not okay to use for professional documents. EVER. Not on your resumé, not on your letterhead, and please, please -- NEVER on your organizational chart.

Fonts matter.

:: “Excellence is in the details.” – Perry Paxton

minus 3 degrees...

(that would be -18° celcius...)



Yesterday was a good day for freelancing... one of the perks being I can work in my bathrobe without leaving the house. :) Speaking of bathrobes, I have to say a publicly huge thank you to my friend Melinda for having the foresight to give me the world's most luxurious bathrobe (personally endorsed by me and Oprah) as a homecoming gift. It's like wearing a full-body hug...

There are also certain perks to being a girl in my family... I have to admit to feeling a tiny bit guilty in the mornings, listening to the sound of my dad snowblowing the driveway while I'm still under the covers, or sitting at my computer in the afore-mentioned bathrobe with a steaming cup of coffee while my brother trudges out to warm up his car for a half hour before driving to his outdoor construction job.

I did leave the house twice yesterday, actually... once for snowblower lessons, (yes, in -3 degrees), so I'm at least prepared if all the men in our family are somehow simultaneously incapacitated. The other outing was to see Charlotte's Web with my niece and nephews, which I loved for bringing a warmly loved story of my childhood to life and was worth braving the frozen air for.

I seriously don't know how my brothers can pound nails in below-freezing temperatures, or how they can be at all productive digging their projects out from under snowdrifts every other day. My dad says it'll give them good stories to tell their grandchildren... This is my dad who took off yesterday (solo) in his single-engine airplane (in the same -3 degree temps) for a 3-hour flight over water and mountains with about as many hours of daylight to do it in...

Somebody asked me not long ago what I'm looking for in a man... I guess being able to run a snowblower, pound nails in winter and fly across wilderness would be a starting point... Or I might settle for two out of the three.

You think I'm kidding...

:: "A healthy man, indeed, is the complement of the seasons, and in winter, summer is in his heart." – Henry David Thoreau