winters come and gone
March 22, 2008
The beginning of spring has come with astounding beauty and freshness. New, soft green leaves and needles, cold gentle rain, hatching out of shells, sunshine in the evening and work to do in the dirt.
The view across the meadow looking back at my parents house on a sunny day in late February. The sky here is a landscape unto itself too. If you come out into this meadow at night and lay looking up at the stars you’ll fall into a pure black sky surrounded by darker than dark redwoods and doug firs making a jagged circle around the constellations. The tallest redwood in the far left of this picture is the one that can be free climbed to the top. You can see the ocean to the west, snow-capped mountains to the northeast, and forests for miles to the south.
After I was born my parents planted the placenta under this gravenstein apple tree. It used to drop bucket loads of crisp, rudy apples every fall but hasn’t produced much the last few years. I’m superstitiously hoping that my presence will bring on a good apple season this year.
The baby chicks seemed confused when I took this picture of them. They’re incredibly clever and so cute it almost brings me to tears. They’re living in a box in our living room right now. Observing their daily routine is still totally fascinating. Just watching them eat, drink, walk, and sleep fills me with a sense of complete wonder and gratitude.
Rio and Rory sitting together at Pt. Cabrillo. We walked down towards the light house to watch the waves and look for migrating whales. I saw a few spouts but no tails. Rio claims he saw at least 8 whale spouts that day. Both kids were mesmerized by the flat, blue ocean and watching the waves. The ocean looked like a lake, because it was so flat and the sky was so blue. It reminded me of Chicago the summer K. and I met when we were queer punk teenagers and I had never seen a really big lake before.
K. and Rio at Point Cabrillo.
K. mixing the dough for easter hot cross buns. What a joy it is to live with a woman who bakes such sweet smelling things. I can’t eat most of it due to my wheat sensitivity but I always appreciate the warmth and love it brings to our house to have home baked goodies.
Laying down in a patch of moss and lichen in the forest feeling totally at peace and unhinged from responsibilities. No more homework. No more final exams. No landlord or neighbors to tell me to make the kids shut up. A job that pays a living wage and feels meaningful and rewarding. No more needing to beg borrow and steal money from the government or loving parents to buy groceries and pay rent. No more sitting in traffic trying to get somewhere I don’t even want to go. Time to figure out this mess of a head I’m carrying around attached to my shoulders. Remembering to love this crazy life with all its dark times, deep losses and shifting ties to people and place. Remembering the blinding chaos and brilliant love inherent in everything despite tough times making it hard to see or touch.
