Two

October 29, 2012

I want to share this with somebody.
This body, this hair, this smile and crinkly eyes,
this ability, this sweetness,
this home with a table, two chairs.

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Backyard Cabin

October 26, 2012

My new bed in my new home. I have not slept so well since moving to Portland. Finally safe from Hyenas.

Up and Down

October 26, 2012

I am filling my days with movement. Moving into the cabin in the back, cleaning and restructuring old living habits, welcoming a new housemate, working the ground and collecting the Zinnias, climbing into my loft bed with feet made tender by the small round rungs. I took a train to Bellingham and back again a day later. I have never been more here, in this house and in Portland, but my friends still ask if I’ll be around next week. It seems that the more I concentrate on my physical surroundings, the more I question them. And everything else.
But the queries are good-hearted. I don’t mean anyone harm. I mean everyone joy.

You-Pick Zinnia Farm

October 14, 2012

Drying Zinnias for next year’s seed supply.

Direction

October 12, 2012

I took the Starlight Express from San Jose to Portland. Just me and a tub of chocolate. Bello was very noticeably absent.
The tracks take a route that once promised to be the main corridor. That did not turn out to be the case. To the west lies Interstate 5 and its endless traps and treasures. The train runs past a couple of forgotten lumber mills, quiet and harmless, and a few crumbled houses, more beautiful now than they have ever been. Reassuringly the land reasserts itself once we get out of the way.
After a long, feverish night of cramped legs and endless whistle stops, I woke to the specific smells and sights of Southern Oregon: Pine trees, dry red dirt, Madrone shrubs, hidden lakes, wildfowl and woodpeckers.
I was hoping the twenty-one hour trip would help me adjust to life in Portland without Bello. It did not. It could not. Not even if it took twenty-one days. Or years. I wasn’t surprised to then be struck with the flu on the first day back. It somehow made sense that my body would resort to drastic measures in an attempt to reset. But where was Bello if not by my side? And when I was well, where was he if not in the kitchen eating the apple core I flung to the floor. No train ride, no stomach ache, no time away will placate this desire. A desire for something so specific, something that can not be replaced nor erased by anything on this earth. I am without him.
Bello is so much more than that old dog I have written about over the years. He is my understanding of peace, of earth, he is the smell of love, he is the deepest sigh, he makes me feel good. Like a good person. He stood in for all the people that I love deeply but do not see very often, as well as the sea and the mountains and the stars disappearing as the fog rolls in. When he left, things changed in me. I am actually different now. And everyone who knew him is as well. A piece was pulled from the board and we all shifted. I am beginning to see how far the ripple will flow.

Cool!

October 4, 2012

A few weeks ago I received a dress order from Carrie-Anne Roy. I sent it off without thinking a lot about it, except that I liked what she chose- the Dress Del Mar in floral, my pride and joy.
Imagine my surprise when she emailed me,
Hi there, My name is Carrie -Anne Roy (Moss) and I will be on The Talk on CBS promoting a show I’m on called Vegas.
I will be wearing the dress I bought from you.
Just wanted to let you know
Have a wonderful day
xxx Carrie -Anne

It’s one thing if a celebrity wears something I made. That’s awesome. But it’s worth a whole lot more if that celebrity is a cool, down to earth, rock of a woman who takes the time to let me know she’s wearing it. It’s enough to make a hippie like me sit down on a Tuesday morning and watch a simplistic talk show just to see her and all her beauty. I sure hope her new show and future projects deserve her participation. She certainly has a new fan right here.

Emily Isabella

October 2, 2012

Cutest girl. Why can’t we all live on the same block?

To Rest

October 1, 2012

I know we enjoy spending time together. In fact I feel more at peace and content in his presence that most others. But, subconsciously, I don’t think either one of us was looking forward to this outing: the memorial walk to Soupy’s grave.
On the very last possible day, we went. At 10:30 I arrived at his house with a backpack of snacks and Bello’s ashes in a cardboard box. Josh brought Soupy’s blanket. We walked… up through lower Pogonip, up U-Con trail, across upper campus, to My Meadow where she lies tucked away. We chatted, about important and unimportant things. He giggled often, which I love. We cried when the dogs came up in conversation and sobbed when we arrived at the loose dirt that marks her grave. I placed the cardboard box on top so that they could be close. Tears.
And then food and a joint and a few stickers in our feet and the long walk home. For the first time I felt the gentle shutting of a door. The soft click that says goodnight my little ones.

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