a surfacing light

A Puddle of Roses

The "Diva" Scarf

I finally finished my first crochet project, a scarf that grew into a long vine of two dozen vintage roses and tends to puddle dramatically when nonchalantly tossed aside, much like a snubbed diva pouting.  It took a while for me to complete as I didn’t really know how to crochet when I began the project–but it is true what they say, when you finally figure out what to do, crochet does go a lot faster than knitting.

Puddling Roses

I chose the colors as a Valentine’s day gift for my daughter and as I worked on the scarf, I found myself remembering my wedding, twenty-five years ago this month.  Like the colors in the scarf, my bridesmaids wore deep burgundy satin gowns and carried bouquets of fuchsia, dusky pink and bing cherry colored roses, set off by creamy old lace and trailing ivy.  The wedding was themed around my dress, a Victorian fancy popular back then.  I wouldn’t have that theme now, and honestly, I only had it then because the dress was just the right sale price for our broken shoestring budget.   Sadly, due to my severe affliction of calendar dyslexia–symptoms of which include a non-existent ability to use calendars, reversing dates and crying a lot when stuck in airports due to having booked the wrong week on travel reservations–my lovely rose and cream colored wedding, perfect for Valentine weekend, occurred on…February 4^th, not February 14^th.   Sigh.   Never mind, it was all about the honeymoon anyway…a gift of unparalled and deeply appreciated generosity from my new in-laws, a week on the romantic isle of Bora Bora in the South Pacific.

Zoe in "Diva" Scarf and Mitts - Scarf adapted from Lion Brand Blossom Scarf Pattern  (I used one strand of worsted weight wool, H/8 Hook and crocheted 24 roses.)

I used some of the yarn left over from the scarf to knit a pair of fuchsia and cherry colored fingerless mitts, added a crochet trim that matched the petals on the scarf and a little crocheted drawstring tied in a bow to pull the edging tighter and make it “rufflier”–is that a word, rufflier? It should be, because that word even looks ruffley, with those two “f’s” in the middle.

So on this ruffley, lacey, candle lit and chocolate cream day, why not send yourself two dozen roses?  Real ones will do just fine or if you’re feeling the creative urge, pick up four or five skeins of yarn in luscious colors that bewitch and enchant all of your senses and crochet yourself a garden.  If you find yourself wondering who the love of your life will be as you’re smelling your roses or running your beautiful yarn between thumb and forefinger, follow gypsy lore and go to sleep tonight with a bay leaf beneath your pillow – the Romany say if you really believe, you’ll soon be seeing the countenance of your true love in your dreams! 

To finish off with a flourish, I’ll say that for us romantics, (and I think that’s all of us) there’s nothing else that can set hearts on this gorgeous green and blue planet to spinning like Pablo Neruda.  I’ll end here with a few lines from his Cien sonetos de amor (100 Love Sonnets):

XXVII

Naked, you are simple as one of your hands,

Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round:

You have moon-lines, apple-pathways:

naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.

 

Naked, you are blue as a night in Cuba,

You have vines and stars in your hair;

Naked, you are spacious and yellow

As summer in a golden church.

 

Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails-

Curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born

And you withdraw to the underground world.

 

As if down a long tunnel of clothing and chores:

Your clear light dims, gets dressed-drops its leaves

And becomes a naked hand again.

 

© Pablo Neruda, 1959 - translated by Stephen Tapscott

© 1986 by the University of Texas Press

 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Dance like an Oompa Loompa!

"Champ Candies Truck" - Somis Nut House - Christmas 2008,                          ©Tad GIelow Photography

I hope everyone had a holiday season filled with twinkle lights, candy canes and a lot of love.  Abby, Zoë and I had big plans to add more origami to our Christmas tree, adding to the cranes and butterflies we made last year.  We picked out some beautiful paper at Paper Source, but everything got put on hold with the somewhat unexpected and very sad passing of my older brother from cancer on December 23  - he’d been sick, but was expected to come home for Christmas.  A few days later, on December 28, an older family member passed on my husband’s side.  Add one very pregnant niece and you have a very busy couple of weeks culminating in two funerals and a baby shower last weekend.

All in all, in the midst of all the holiday hoopla, life seemed very draining and tiring, but now it's time to continue on and start the new year with some joy. Best thing for renewal?  Laughter, and maybe even a little dancing.  My daughter sent me this youtube link, "The Evolution of Dance" and within ten seconds, not only were we dancing, but we were howling with laughter.  Enjoy – and be sure to look for the Oompa Loompa dance!  

You tube:   "The Evolution of Dance" 

View from our front door - Christmas morning, 2008

Dream & Reality

"What Color is My Soul?" - Valenzuela

We’ve had one of those long body pillows in the house for awhile now and really have no idea where it came from.  I don’t recall buying it and you’d think I’d notice if someone showed up at our house with a five foot long pillow, but at the risk of channeling the famously memory impaired Former Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez, I truly have no recollection.  Zoë had it on her bed for awhile but in our recent clutter clearing, deep clean and bedroom switcheroo, she jettisoned it and guess where it landed?  On our bed, of course. 

Have you ever tried to make one of those things look nice and tidy on your bed?  Pretty much impossible, unless…fabric stash to the rescue!  I had saved the “Dream & Reality” graphic from one of my favorite t-shirts and have been looking for just the right place to use it.   Too many morning coffee drips and car braking spills end up making most of my t-shirts entirely unwearable (at least in public), and out of guilt more than thrift I try to recycle some of my favorites.

In addition to the shirt, I found a length of black velvet in my stash, so I really just needed a nice print to create a frame for the t-shirt graphic and so that (happily!) meant a trip to the fabric store.  I say “happily” because for me, “fabric store” means the granddaddy of them all, Michael Levine in the sweaty, chaotic, almost impossible to find parking in, heart of the garment district in downtown Los Angeles.  So fun!  Anything else is just running errands!

Pudgy little black cat or pile of velvet?:

Both!  (As you can see, Mikey loves that gorgeous bit of aqua and orange Amy Butler fabric that I found for the next quilt which is in the cutting process!  If there's any extra, I promised him a little cat quilt.)

But back to the t-shirt–you may think it odd that I would save an old coffee stained shirt, but I love that “Dream & Reality” t-shirt because it perfectly expresses my way of thinking.   I think that the only thing we can truly possess and have any type of control over are our thoughts.  Yeah, that constant and exhausting perpetual chatter that runs through our minds is actually controllable and even better, once we get a handle on it,  life can change very quickly in the direction we want to go.   I think that the tenor and shape of our thoughts is perfectly entwined with the colors and forms that emanate from our soul and both deeply affect the way we dream, the things we dream for and our ability to achieve them.

Wow, speaking of spiraling thought processes, how did I get from covering a pillow to mind chatter?  Oh, yes, coffee stained t-shirts, fabric and that crazymaking cornucopia of fabric,  Michael Levine, downtown.   It’s all connected!   I love Michael Levine–picture a cat rolling around in catnip totally oblivious to all else–complete with claws stretching and retracting, nose sniffing and tail twitching–and you’ll have an idea of what I look like as I wander and weave through aisles lined with bolts of cottons, silks, poplin, ribbons, zippers....aaahhh, heaven!  Although I do try to abstain from the actual rolling in the fabric for fear of being escorted out...Woot!

I found a gorgeous print imported from Japan that has a strong enough graphic for the bit of patchwork framing I wanted to create between the black velvet and the t-shirt.  I loved the bold drawing of the Geishas and background patterning contrasted with vintage kimono colors.  My Geisha drawings like the one at the top of this post and the little Geisha Ghost below tend to turn out more abstract.

"Geisha Ghost" - Valenzuela (in the style of Kiyonaga)

This is a weekend project because sewing velvet is like sewing butter to butter–buttah to buttah, baby–and I’ve got velvet side panels, a full 56” velvet back and a zipper to install–on the velvet.  Talk about the wide berth between Dream & Reality, the final product might be very different than the intention and expectation!  Well, I’m off to sew…next post, maybe I’ll have a pillow cover!

p.s., I'm so lucky to have two such hardworking Personal Assistants!:

 

Colors, Quilts & Clawfoot Tubs

"Fall FLower" - Valenzuela '08

In a few years I’ll be fifty and my kids will be gone to college and/or busy enjoying fulltime jobs (we hope!) and Nutmeg and the cats will be old and sleepy.   My husband and I grew up in households that told us we needed to find a job and stick with it, perhaps even retiring from a long-term position with a company of good repute.  Good advice and we followed it…or tried too.   As we all know now, companies come and go and we need a lot of diversity and continuing education in our lives and jobs in order to remain employed and maintain a reasonable life style.  So as Tad and I look down the road to the next stage of our lives, we have decided we want to truly follow our passion.  For Tad, it’s advancing his photography work and teaching computer animation/graphics.  As for me, I’m passionate about the illustrated book that is nearly complete, drawing, handcrafts like knitting and FABRIC.   I love fabric, more than just about anything.  Yup, more than chocolate even.  I really enjoy drawing on the computer with a mouse, as in the clawfoot tub below (which is the style I'm using to illustrate my book) but after a full day of living in the abstract brain of the computer, I find that I crave texture, tangibility and actually holding something in my hands.

"Clawfoot tub" - Valenzuela, 08

I’ve been looking for a way to combine those passions and I’m thinking I’d like to use my drawing and computer skills to design my own textiles.  For example, I think my clawfoot tub drawing would make a cute fabric pattern, maybe for a shower curtain or bathroom print?   But first things first!  The initial step in designing a line is understanding how different fabric patterns work together–because unlike paint, charcoal or collage, I can’t simply change a fabric I don’t like by adding a bit of cobalt blue, a strip of beautiful paper or a photoshop filter–what you get is what you got.  Very tricky for someone used to being able to change the medium with the click of a button or the swish of a brush.

For me, the best way to master a medium is to use it, and use it alot, so I made a quilt.  I’m calling it a quilt because it has a front, a back and batting in between, but it really should have a different name because I declined to make the binding (a HUGE, boring, painful job) and just made a “quilt sandwich” by sewing up the side seams and turning it right side out.  After all, if I’m gonna be following my passion, I can choose to leave out the stuff I don’t like. I also didn't do hand or machine quilting on it, I finished it off with "stitch in the ditch" quilting which I think is more than enough.  I have found that actual quilting can become more important than the fabrics and I prefer a simpler look.  

The pattern I chose called for using the quilt back material for long strips down the center front, but when I finished the quilt front I found that not only was the green backing material I had chosen the least favorite of my fabrics, but that it had become the central fabric, overpowering the entire quilt.   Yuch!  See below!

Quilt Making Lesson #1:  Try to find a big, full sized picture of the quilt in addition to the small, artsy, staged picture shown in the pattern book before going to all the trouble of making it.

Quilt Making Lesson #2:  Make sure to use your favorite fabrics as the central focus.  I liked the floral print and the yellow paisley, detail below.

Happily though, my dislike of the green fabric became one of those crazy accidents that can change the entire trajectory of a project/life.   After the front fiasco, I revolted against using the hated green as a backing, so I found some wide, heavy muslin that cost about $3.00 a yard (versus the $9.00 for the green) that works beautifully for a quilt back.  I’m going to use that same easy to find, inexpensive muslin as a backing on all the quilts I make–I think it adds a sense of continuity by tying each individual quilt to the other quilts I am making with a large element and also reflects the simplicity that I love.  In fact, I’m thinking about naming my small line of handmade quilts “Muslins”.

"Muslin Backing"

All in all, it looks okay on a bed and the cats love it, it's one of their favorite nap spots!  Of course, that's not saying much as they tend to nap anywhere and everywhere, although they do enjoy helping with the quilting.  Here's Leonardo (Leo) below, pitching in by getting lots of fur all over a pile of freshly washed and ready to be pressed muslin.

Michelangelo (Mikey) getting ready for a well-deserved nap after having to get out of bed for breakfast, below:

Well, I’ve been nattering on here for awhile–in the future I really am going to send out little bulletins with pics so I don’t bore you all with these long, random posts!  I would LOVE to hear from you about what you are thinking of as far as lifestyle and philosophy changes.  Anyone else thinking about moving in a different direction?  Or have you already?  Leave a comment or if you like to be private, just email me.  I always love hearing your thoughts.

Right now, I’m on to finishing the drawings for the book and have started the next quilt!  Pics soon!  Also, we really enjoyed the pumpkin patch, but it has to go this weekend because we’ll be planting bulbs and some other seeds in our flower beds, so here are a couple of goodbye pictures: 

(I love the tendrils in these pumpkins!)

Instant Pumpkin Gratification

First Day in the Light

We planted pumpkin seeds in the middle of our lettuce patch, thinking they would be too late for Halloween but might grow in time for Thanksgiving.   About a week after we planted them there was still a bare spot in the ground and I thought maybe I should buy another lettuce to fill in.   The very next morning, the little pumpkins were 3" tall.   I am not exaggerating even a little bit.  

Like Jack with his magic beans, Tad and I stand over our small patch every morning, coffee & chai cup in hand, (me coffee, him chai) amazed and deeply renewed by this plain little plant and its simple and glorious act of growing - and growing quickly.   If you are feeling a little worn down, worried, stressed, I recommend instant pumpkin gratification to get back on track.  

Just pop into the nursery, spend about a dollar for a pack of seeds, loosen up some soil in a sunny place in your yard, drop in the seeds and get ready for action. They're hardy too, even with the Santa Ana's hurling debris and howling hot and heavy up here, they just keep on going.  Here they are this morning, just seven days after that first blush:

I LOVE this Freckle's lettuce, we found it at Armstrong's Nursery.  I've never eaten it before so I can't vouch for its flavor, but something about a lettuce named Freckles is just so...endearing.  

Freckles Lettuce - First Week

I got brave and tried some new knitting, the boho beret.  It turned out a little big - okay,it's Shrek sized - but I did pick up some really nice new techniques.  I love the eyelet pattern below and I enjoyed knitting with the Tonalita yarn.  I notice that I tend to pick yarn that matches the flowers blooming in my garden–right now the Lantana is blooming all over the place:

  

I don't normally work with bright yellow but I'm deeply inspired by the Black-Eyed Susan's (and Cosmo's) blooming in my garden.  They're just begging to be knitted, painted, what?  Any ideas?  Maybe a felted bag with a gold and brown base and a Cosmo colored magenta kicker? 

Well, how does your garden grow?  Let me know if you decide to plant pumpkins or anything else and most importantly, how does it make you feel?  Because that's the important thing for me, I want to feel differently–not worried, stressed, scared...I want to be motivated, inspired and feeling good about what I do and how I do it and I'm finding that it's the little things, like planting a pumpkin patch in my front yard that helps me with that.  Also, how does color inspire you?  How do you pick your colors?  I'm looking forward to hearing your ideas!

Breathe

"BREATHE" - Valenzuela, 2008  (Ink & Colored pencil, drawn at R. Moacanin's "Enchanted April" in Palm Springs.) 

I promised myself I wouldn't look at the news today, but it's not even 7:30 am and I've been online at cnn.com and Foxnews.com twice.  (I like to be fair and read both sides!)    How I wish this election were already over…It's really adding to the fear and panic already shaking our core due to this financial and economic crisis.

My suggestion is to find 10 seconds that you can do with whatever you want.  No matter how busy we are, asking for 10 seconds for ourselves isn't asking for that much.  

When you have approximately 10 seconds or so to call your own, close your eyes, inhale deeply, and hold your breath for as long as you can.   As you hold your breath, see a beautiful light flow down through the top of your head.  The color of the light will be the EXACT color that you need in your life RIGHT NOW to manifest healing, abundance, joy and all manner of wonderful things.  Let the light flow throughout your entire body.  As you exhale, see the light flowing out into the world, manifesting healing, abundance and prosperity for all beings everywhere.  Repeat as often as you can.  

Okay, I feel better now!  Now we can get back to the important stuff–knitting and making soup.

It was cool enough this weekend to cook and Tad made Albondigas soup–chock full of meatballs, rice and FLAVOR!   We usually make it as a traditional holiday dish, but we needed a lift this weekend and there's something about a good pot of soup simmering away on the stove that soothes the soul.  Sooo delicious!  If you're interested, remind me to post his recipe.  By the way, I LOVE all the emails I get, but you can leave comments on the blog too if you don't mind other people reading what you say.   It's very safe and easy to do!

Here are a few pics of the knitting I mentioned in the last blog.  The red and blue hats below, (modeled by Zoë)  will go with a few others to "Operation Gratitude" for the troops:

Red Hat:  Bulky Acrylic,  CO 72 stitches. Size 10.5, 16" circular needles.  Tighter fitting on Zoë, she has the brim rolled up - (Approximately 1" ribbed brim = k1,p1 for 6 rounds,  Knit 30 stockinette rounds before decreasing.)

Blue Hat:  Worsted weight acrylic,  CO 80 stitches. Size 9, 16" circular needles.  Very big, loose hat on Zoë, she has the brim folded up-good for men's head size  (Approximately 1" ribbed brim = k2,p2 for 6 rounds,  Knit 32 stockinette rounds before decreasing.)

Interestingly, I like the red hat better, even though it was much easier to knit than the striped hat.  (I need to keep a journal of my knitting so that when I want to make the same thing again, I don't have to start all over from scratch!  Thus the little technical notes below the pics. Someday I'll start a proper knitting journal...I've handmade TWO and bought THREE and still haven't written anything down!)

My favorite set is below, mostly because of the different colored thumbs on the mitts–for some reason, those thumbs just make me happy.  (Yes, I'm easily amused...)  I'll keep this set because it's made out of wool and if gets thrown in the wash, the poor soldier who received it will have a tiny little set, maybe big enough to fit a four year old.  How disappointing would that be!  That's the thing about wool, it comes in the most beautiful colors but it needs to be hand washed in cold water and laid flat to dry.  Yes, I can certainly see some 20 something year old soldier in Iraq hand washing his or her hat...NOT! 

Colored Thumbs below:

Well, I'm off to work and maybe to make more soup!  Chicken and dumpling this time, I think.  It is much warmer today than it was this weekend, but maybe I'll just up the air conditioning and pretend it's Fall!

Remember, breathe in color and light and love and when you breathe out, you and all those around you will share in and be encompassed by the beauty, joy and abundance in your heart!

Re-Surfacing

 

"Three Little Hats"  - Valenzuela, 2008

That was one heck of a summer and I’m not talking about long meandering days picking berries and evenings on the porch with a glass of whiskey laced lemonade - although the mint patch in our garden did produce more than enough mint for several evenings worth of Tad’s “guaranteed to make you howl” Mojito’s.

It was a bittersweet summer for me - my oldest daughter was home for probably her last summer with us, she’s a junior in college this year and will more than like stay in Northern California next summer.  We had a lot of fun and took a family vacation to Oregon and Washington....I loved, loved, loved Portland and Seattle, but I think I prefer the state of Oregon to Washington.  Oregon just seems more accessible, while Washington is beautiful, but forbiddingly beautiful.  We toured the Olympic National Forest, (At  dawn! This is what happens when you marry a photographer!) and spent a few days at the beach in Oregon. 

Zoë and Abby in front of Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach in Oregon

 

This is what just the SIDE of a road looks like in Washington!  We had an impromptu picnic here!

Late afternoon at Olympic National Forest with a big storm coming.  Remember, this is AUGUST!!!

Same place the next morning at dawn, a full cloud blanket has settled over the valley. 

Admist all of the fun, we had our fair share of heartbreak including boyfriend breakups, a harrowing car accident, two serious illnesses in the family - heart problems for my brother and cancer has hit my father in law and so on and so forth.  Through it all - the good, the bad and the ugly (Clint Eastwood not included unfortunately) – I found my way to deal was through....knitting.

Throughout the summer, I have knitted hats for family and philanthropy (Operation Gratitude for the Troops), fingerless mitts for kids and friends, felted Bags (lotsa knitting in these babies) and many items that remain nameless and genderless due to operator error, as in “Gauge?  Why bother knitting a gauge, it’ll be fine!”  Famous last words, as any knitter who has progressed beyond their first scarf will tell you.

So I’ll be blogging this year about knitting and cosmos (both the flower and the drink), knitting with cosmos (the drink) and as usual, art and writing.   I’m working on a illustrated book that includes a little bit of...knitting, of course!   The hat illustration at the top is from the book. 

Right now, I'm looking for a pattern/idea/philosophy for getting through life a little MORE than sane and alive, I’m talking about living life with joy, verve, color and all that good stuff, so I knit…and blog…and make potato leek soup…and laugh and cry!

As always, I love hearing from you all and would REALLY love hearing that some of you are blogging too! Anyone game?

 

This is Charley

It's too hot to type and summer hasn't even settled in yet. Zozo and I have been knitting up a storm–we've made gloves, market bags, scarfs and more–pics of all to come soon, but in the interim, I hope you all enjoy this video as much as we did.  At first, I feared it was going to end badly, but it doesn't, it made me feel wonderful. The feeling has stayed with me all day, even on this Friday the 13th, a day I always dread –superstitious schmuck that I am.  (I'm sure it has nothing to do with being partially raised by a grandmother who made the sign of the cross before walking by a ladder and just gave up, went home and got back in bed in the event of a black cat crossing the road.)

So if you, like me, can't stay in bed today, I thought you might enjoy this feature presentation.  It's about a cat, but rest assured, this is a lucky cat!

And heeere's Charley!

http://youtube.com/watch?v=dJQG6V1MOVY

p.s.

Thoughts become things...choose the good ones!

A Gaggle of Family

First Day on Planet Earth

When we first moved to this little cottage in the canyon about seven years ago, it was for the excellent schools in the district. We bought the house the day it came on the market, outbidding several other offers–the neighborhood was beautiful, the street was pretty and the schools were blue ribbon winners–so who cared if all of our across the street neighbors had feathers? (For those of you who don’t live in Los Angeles, this may give you an indication of how nuts it can be to find a nice, affordable house in a good school district in Southern California.)

Shortly after move-in day, we met the actual human who lived across the street–a shy, retired old gent named Mr. Pruitt. The other neighbors had told us that back in his day, Mr. Pruitt had been a championship swimmer at USC and would have gone to the Olympics, but things were derailed–I think by a war. Now he just tended his flock of several white geese and one little brown female, took care of his fruit trees and drove his many tractors around his extensive property that extended deep into the canyon. For some reason, he seemed to spend alot of time moving big rocks and making new trails that crossed his old trails. I think he just liked riding around on his tractors.

He was shy, but friendly. One afternoon, as I pulled the mail out of my mailbox that borders on his property, I made an attempt at chatting. “We love the geese. The girls really enjoy them.”
He stared at the honking, babbling group. “Um hmmm. But you know these aren‘t the same geese you met here a few months ago when you bought the place.”
“Oh no?”
He put his foot on his shovel and comfortable, leaned into it, staring at the ground. “Naw. One night I left the gate open, went down to the club, got back a little late. The darn coyotes got in. Nothin’ left. I had to go and get another gaggle.”

I can tell you that for TWO YEARS after that conversation I would run out every time I heard those geese screaming, night or day until it finally sunk in that geese scream at everything–people walking their dogs, birds flying overhead, squirrels in the trees, us–every single time we went to get our mail! Geese make fantastic watchdogs, in fact there are a quite a few stories about the military keeping them around to police the borders of military bases. They’re loud, mean, they bite and they certainly aren‘t bribeable with a good steak and a scratch behind the ears.

A few years ago, there was a new goose in town. Mr. Pruitt had added a young brown male to the flock, hoping he would eventually breed, but the white geese were having nothing of it. They bullied that little goose unmercifully. They bit, screamed, hissed and did everything they could to torment him. The bullying wasn’t just distressing, it was soul destroying. One day I saw Mr. Pruitt watching them, his craggy old face lined with anguish as the outcast little brown goose tried desperately to stand next to the flock, only to be attacked, bit and driven off.

Wicked Mean

He nodded at me sadly and before turning back to his chores said, “I don’t know what that bird’s lesson is, but it is a hard one.”

Mr. Pruitt passed on about two years ago, right around Halloween, and we all held our breath as we waited for the bulldozers and the McMansion developers–because as you might imagine, his undeveloped acres of canyon property just twenty minutes or so from downtown Los Angeles is worth many, many millions of dollars. The Nature Conservacy sniffed around, we saw alot of trucks and other very scary things, but the only thing that came to live was a pretty little goat named April. Mr. Pruitt’s ex-wife Greta, who lived down the street and around the corner, took over the property and brought the lovely April, who, you may be pleased to know, greatly enjoys terrorizing the white geese by chasing them around the pen.

Over time, things evened out abit between all the geese, but there were still altercations. About two months ago, I drove up to see the biggest white goose hanging on the back of the outcast brown male–the brown goose was screaming, the others were honking and feathers were flying as he raced around in circles, trying to dislodge the other male goose. I thought, Do some things never change?

Well guess what? They do. Three weeks ago, early morning, I was looking out my living room window, drinking my coffee, when I saw a line of little yellow baby geese staying very close to…the outcast brown goose. Unbelievably, he was a daddy.

Greta was out there, filling the little goose swimming pool with fresh water and soaking the fruit trees. She said, “Somehow that brown male goose managed to woo my little brown female away from those white ones. Did you know my little female is so docile I can pick her up and cuddle her in my arms? She laid those eggs and sat on them until they hatched. Not like those white geese–they laid twelve eggs, sat for abit and then got bored and left. The ground squirrels had a feast.”

Second Week

The Happy Family

Today, the babies are just three weeks old and MUCH bigger. We watched as Dad gently herded his little flock, while Mom, Greta’s little brown female, brought up the rear. Greta grinned. “Would you look at him? He is so protective. He won’t let anything near his family. One of the babies has a black bill and black legs. Interesting mix. No idea where that came from. Maybe he got ahold of one of the white females too.”

I thought that might explain the fighting a couple of months ago.

Before she left, Greta said one of the whites laid another egg and was sitting on it. So who knows? Maybe we’ll have another baby goose in the neighborhood. As for us, we're all so thrilled for the brown goose. You have never seen a prouder papa and a happier extended family, that being all of us neighbors–sans feathers, of course.

A Goose of a Different Color

Little Bird

Journal Entry-Watercolor, Pen & Ink

If you could pick a superpower which would you pick? Would you have x-ray vision, the gift of flight, the ability to control the weather or to listen in on other people’s thoughts?

Abby, my oldest daughter would like to be able to fly. She’s a restless spirit and a confident soul and at night in her dreams, she flies places–just like she does in the day time–albeit during the day, she’s riding her bike and driving her truck, rather than skimming the clouds of dream with gossamer wings. She’s away at college now and we miss her so much I really do wish she could fly. Of course, knowing her, she’d probably jet over to Paris or New Zealand rather than fly back here to be with us in our little cottage.

As for me, I LOVE hearing people’s stories. My family tell me I would talk to walls if there was no one around to chat with and I think the perfect superpower would be invisibility–but not, as one might think, to eavesdrop on the stories and lives of others.

I think my yen for invisibility stems from enduring a painful, debilitating shyness after the death of my parents by car accident, on an Easter Sunday some forty odd years ago. I can still see a fragment of my four year old self staring at the face of the heartsick policeman who had the horrific job of telling a family of young children that they were now orphans. And, after a long, deep breath, I can still feel a jolt of fear, followed by a longing to melt away like that chocolate bunny I’d left in a messy puddle on the driveway that sunny Easter morning. After that day, it was difficult to make connections and I mumbled, red-faced and agonized, through just about every encounter that didn’t include a few close friends. This went on until I was about fifteen, when, while eating a soggy sandwich during another dull lunch period in the high school cafeteria, I glanced up and saw something that astonished me. I saw kids having fun! They were planning things like eating pizza in groups, going to parties, dating! I didn’t know the word “epiphany” at the time, but it was the proverbial light illuminating a dark room and I wanted to know about those kids–how did they live life with such ease? I forced myself to start talking and within months of that bulb going off over my head, I had alot more friends and I even had boyfriend–a real cute one who drove a classic ‘56 Chevy, complete with tail fins and the original pale yellow paint. (For those of you not in the know, original paint on a classic car is apparently a reason for celebration, although I’m not sure why.)

But it wasn’t just about a slice of high school popularity-the potency of that glance away from my egg salad sandwich reverberated through the rest of my life. By some sweet grace, I had discovered that when I was listening to others tell their stories and truly hearing what they were saying, I was no longer locked in my own mind, shy and embarrassed, a victim of my own mental process, a process that I had no idea how to control. In fact, I enjoyed those exchanges so much that it became a lifetime habit to seek them out–speaking as deeply as possible to the waiter, the cashier, the teacher–whomever I happened to be in contact with, and each and every time I do, I am astonished at how surprised and yet somehow pleased they are that someone has asked them, completely out of the blue, about their lives, dreams and goals.

So, as much as I would like to fly, have super strength or x-ray vision, I think there is still a part of me that aches for that broken hearted little girl who would have liked to disappear. My journal drawing “Little Bird” expresses her desire for invisibility and also the blessing of communication that shyness gave to the woman she became, because as I am still learning to this day, the ability to talk deeply and truly hear others is a superpower.

So what’s your secret superpower? Don’t be shy! Tell your story, share your superpower, the one you have and the one you dream of–you know I’m interested.