Happy Friday

Happy International Women's Day! Happy Friday! Happy Weekend! We're off to the beach!

xo

Wordless Wednesday

Breathe

Last weekend I went off to the coast, my annual solo trip - well almost annual. Last year I missed it somehow, busy lives and all. I loaded up as I always do; guitar, boombox, cds, journals, books, yarn and hook. And as I always do, most of that stuff sat untouched as I spent most of my time on the beach or just sitting in my cottage staring out at the ocean, doing nothing but breathing in and out.


As I sat and stared, I thought a lot about change.

The connection to this landscape is now onto it's 4th generation with my daughter now travelling summers on the two lane highways and dipping her toes in this particular cold water part of the Pacific. Every time I drive around a bend in the road I have this anticipation of what might have changed since the last time; I wonder what remains unchanged.


On Three Rocks Road the cows are there, as they have always been there, or so it seems to me. I roll down my window wave and yell, "Hi Cows!" because I always do. There stands the old barn, leaning just a little more to one side than last time. The fields are still for grazing with a clear line of sight towards the estuary.


As I roll into town I notice a new housing development across the highway from the golf course. There are a couple of new businesses on the main drag, and a couple of old businesses that did not make it through the tough coastal winter. When I check into my cottage I am shaken by change. The 1960's funky faux wood paneling has been painted a sparkling white, the wood burning fireplace has been replaced with a gas one, and the old ugly super comfy Barcoloungers have been retired with more modern and nominally more attractive chairs taking their place.


Ah, but the view! The view is still the same.

This last year has been full of change with even more big changes on the way, perhaps I have got a little dizzy and lost my way in an unrecognizable landscape. Isn't everything changing all of the time? Isn't that how life rolls? Change is good and natural and part of the evolution of our selves. We keep learning, growing, and all that jazz - moving on and up, or sometimes sideways.

Still, I think it is wise to occasionally stop and take stock, to get one's bearings...


...and to preserve some things; hold on to parts of ourselves and our lives that have depth, quality and meaning.

I didn't come to any great conclusions, nor did I have any epiphanies regarding life and change. Like I said, I just thought a lot about it. I know there are things that need to change, some work that needs doing. I also found a determination to reconnect with some old joy, to rekindle some neglected passions, and to set out some sign posts for myself in the midst of an ever changing landscape.


The truth is, even that view - that beautiful ocean view - is never the same, not really. Always changing with the tide, the light, the seasons...
Still, it never fails to fill me with awe, gratitude and peace. It always reminds me of where I come from, helps me to where I am going, and guides me back to myself.




And whenever the ocean sees me, it waves!

You are all welcome for that really lame joke, c'mon you know you smiled!

Cowgirl in the Sand Pt. 2

If you are ready, I shall continue my little story...

The sedative effect of the ocean sent me into a sound and sweet sleep for the night. I wake at first light to the slight chill of morning fog that has seeped in through the windows. I shuffle outside to the wood locker gathering bundles of cut logs, their woody scent clinging to my sweater. Once the fire is lit, I make my morning coffee and stare out again at the sea. Antsy to hit the sand while the tide is still low, I walk down the bluff trail to the beach. The fog is already lifting, both literally and figuratively. I can't help but smile as I hop-skip over the exposed rocks, feeling like a kid peering into tide pools looking for creatures.

I breathe deep and walk until the sun is bright in the sky. Back up the trail and time for breakfast.

My favorite cafe lurks just outside of town. They bake everything from scratch, loaves of the most amazing dark molasses bread, pies - all kinds, hash-browns done to perfection. It's the kind of place that the local regulars keep their own coffee mugs behind the counter. How many breakfasts have I eaten in these booths? How many years has it been? Long enough to recall I was still wearing combat boots with vintage petticoats!

After I am well fed, I head North to Neskowin. Taking the back roads past verdant green fields, I roll down my window and yell “Hey Cows!” I swerve down the secret lane; I park at the private gate. I walk past the cedar shake vacation homes to the beach. I look up the hills that flank the dunes and marsh, the little bridge that crosses onto private land. We used to harvest wild rose hips here, with the owners permission. There is a flirtation with disappointment when I realize I have probably missed the wild flowers on Cascade Head.

This is my beach, all mine! Miles of sand with nary a soul but myself and two Blue Herons at the shore line.

I walk and hum feeling small and safe, happy inside of my skin. It seems my heart beats and my blood pumps in rhythm with the waves. The wind tangles my hair as I think about my little family at home, how very precious they are to me and how lucky we are to have found each other; each of us individuals making up a whole unit.

I sail back down the coast highway re-kindling an old musical flame, I turn Squeeze up to eleven and sing along to Goodbye Girl.
Back at the cottage, I settle myself into the reading nook or maybe better known as the daydream bed.

For a moment I ponder the the art of feminine maintenance - which often eludes me. It is not lost on me though, for as the song goes, "I enjoy being a girl!" There just seems to be other priorities most of the time. I put some Chuck Berry on the boom box, dye my hair, paint my nails and do the sort of dancing you do when no one is watching.

I think about a time in the future when my daughter might make some of these trips with me, just us girls at the edge of the world dancing and singing and skipping on the sand.

I search for treasure; agates, shells, sea glass and smooth rocks that feel like wishing stones...all collected in a jar to bring back to my girl. Gifts from the sea.

As my time here comes to a close, on the last night just before I light the fire, I must make one last walk. I sprint to the beach only to have the wind knocked out of me by the bulk of the horizon. The sun is setting, the ocean is the color of a pearl, the sky is wide open and it’s just too much. I have to take up a big stick for ballast and I still can’t breathe. A mile later I can finally rest and look out. Out there over the waves, hangs a primordial memory that feels suspiciously like heart break and home. The gravitational pull of instinct and deep longing and a gratitude I am unable to express.

You must click on the pic!

This short journey has filled me up again, sustenance for the following year, it has given me peace and a quiet I so needed. I have re-connected with myself and that is good. So now on the drive home, I find myself excited to re-connect with my family and to tell them my story of a little cottage by the sea.

Hello Cowgirl in the Sand

When last I saw you, I believe I mentioned a little adventure I was about to embark upon. I am feeling like telling you all about it. I do think I am about to "spin quite a yarn" for you just now. You may like to get yourself into a comfortable "yarn spinning" position...

I am headed to the sea where a little cottage waits for me...
I am collecting things. I'm making lists in my head. I am chasing the ribbon of hwy 18 through the corridor, past the blind curve where I once got a flat tire with nothing to spare. There, I was rescued by 'fresh from the hunt' cousins in an old Ford truck, fresh buck staring and bleeding in the rusted bed. They were loggers from Willamina. Nice as could be those two, even gave me the outside seat in the cab - the one next to the door. Put me right at ease, though I still gripped the screw driver inside the pocket of my "western breakfast" (old sheepskin coat). Shame on me.

I'm heading out on my yearly lone wolf trip to the coast. It's a tradition. (In fact, I do believe it's in the pre-nuptial contract I made the Engineer sign.) There is no anniversary date I hold to, I go when my soul needs it most and the coffers hold more than lint. I anticipate it with an almost Pavlovian drool. A muscle memory. I know this road as well as my own breath, from here to just beyond the California border. After all these years, the drive has become a meditation on history - the land's...my own.


My particular relationship with this landscape is smudged by a multi-generational experience; my singular memories are mixed with the recall of my parents, grandparents and a great, great somebody attached to my line. I am related to the Crabtrees and the Turners *(the names of old Oregon towns), I have read a letter from my great grand uncle Taulton Turner, sent from, "Portland! What a town!" after a few days ride from *Scio on horseback. I am kin to the first white baby born in Linn County. One of my greats gave birth to twins - on a raft - while harrowing the Willamette River! Of course, I can't be sure of that, for our family has never let the truth get in the way of a good story.

The ritual begins with loading up the car. Camera, guitar, boom box, music, journals, sketchbooks, a comfy cardi and a sense of anticipation. Then, it's off down the highway. As I slide 'round another bend, I look up the country road where I once lived. An exceptional year in the woods, living on a few acres in a 1967 Airstream caravan next to a babbling brook. That was a long time ago.


When I hit Hwy 101, I know I'm close to my first stop. The local thrift - in hopes of scoring a weekend sweater, a curio of odd delight or an obscure book of Rod McKuen poems for a friend. This trip, I only find baggy beach pants and some happy daisy sheets. Then I take off my shoes and walk the fine grit sand of the southern bay before lunch.

When it is finally check in time, I greet the woman behind the desk; Starla is her name and she's worked here longer than the many years I have been coming to this place. I get the key to my cottage. The first thing I do after unloading the car, is to re-arrange all the furniture (don't fret, I put it all back into it's proper place before I leave). I open the windows wide to let in the briny air.

Now it's time to pour a glass of wine and sit - to breathe a deep breath, to slow my racing pulse, to gaze out at my view. What I see nearly makes me weep with the beauty of it.

I sit until dark, listening to the surf. Tomorrow I will wake early and take the trail down to the beach, seeking low tide.

...and tomorrow I will finish my yarn, for there is more to tell.

Holiday

Just back from our holiday at the coast. This was our second year renting the big house at the beach for Thanksgiving. Ten big people and three little ones, friends and family arrived in cars laden with ridiculously delicious food and drink, musical instruments, and cozy slippers.

There is nothing between this wall of windows and the ocean, but for a small strip of road. The view tremendous and awe inspiring.

The house sits just the other side of the small coastal village of Yachats, an artistic community with a small population. It remains less tourist filled than other nearby towns and it's coast line is rough and dramatic.

We feasted, walked on wind swept beaches, played games, watched movies, played music and generally had a lovely time. Now it's back to real world and the post holiday clean up and catch up. We are ever so thankful for this time with good folks and family in such a beautiful place. So blessed are we.



I hope you all had a wonderful weekend!

By the Bay

Wow. Hard to believe it is June already. I have been taking a break from the computer to spend time with my family and enjoying the beautiful weather we've been having. I even got to take a trip to the coast and get my toes in the sand. Ahh.


If I haven't stopped by to say hi, forgive me. I will try to catch up soon.

In other news, I have received 4 custom orders in the last week and will be busy racing my sewing machine towards the finish line. It's exciting and nerve racking at the same time. My posts here may suffer a bit but, I will have lots to show you in the coming weeks.

Until next time, have a lovely first week of June!

I've Got The Funk, Buxom Blonde Causes Cave In and The Island of Happiness

So, I've got the funk, or rather I had it. Not the good time Parliament or Funkadelic hip shakin', groove makin' Funk. No, I had the swampy, low down, feeling so tired and melancholy Funk. Fer no good reason, boy howdy! So, I have not been posting as I thought I might before my vacation. See, I am about to take a vacation - so what the heck am I blue about? Maybe I got the Februaries, or short-timers. Let's just say, I aint feelin' justified but, I was still feeling funky.
AND THEN...
The sun was out again yesterday, a February tease in the Northwest, just before the Daphne blooms, a hint of magic yet to come, waiting for the Crocus Pocus to arrive. The first day in the yard. Gloves on, snippers at the ready, my girl singing and digging in pink cowgirl boots and sunshine. Zen like labor for an hour or two and then such a satisfying moment of back cracking stretch and surveillance. It's an annual ritual to be followed by other rites of season. Oh, that blessed vitamin D, you do go to my head. I love the dirty nails and attention to bandaiding a blister, a feeling of accomplishment and peace with battle scars.


Speaking of rites of passage (insert awkward segue here):
As a parent you can't help but anticipate future scenarios but, for the most part you try to be in the now, live the present phase and not get too far ahead of yourself. Sometimes things just happen, sneak up on you - finding you ill prepared and stumbling. My daughter just received her first blond bombshell doll, you know the one I mean without naming names. She isn't even 4 quite yet and she was obsessed. Other little girls in her preschool were bringing them for sharing time and I watched my girl hover and be awe struck, as if she had found the Holy Grail. Then she talked about it on and on. I wasn't ready but, I caved in. She had to earn this doll, wow what motivation! I knew if I withheld this doll of glory from her, it would become more powerful in it's lure. I had them as a kid so I'm not sure what my big problem is with them - giant corporate greed, unrealistic beauty themes, manipulative marketing, cheap plastic gobby gook - perhaps. At least they have scaled back the torpedo bosom a little. My daughter is now at school happily and proudly sharing her doll. I am still a little uneasy with the whole business, I can't wait for the teenage years!


Now, I bid you all adieu for a wee bit. Yes, that vacation I mentioned. My husband and I are off to the Island of Happiness, better known as Maui. We have been saving and planning for a while now. We have never taken a vacation destination trip together. It's a pretty big deal for us. My husband has never been to the islands, I lived on Maui as a kid but, I haven't been back since. I have been to a couple of the other islands but, it has been 8 years since my last trip to the Big Island of Hawaii and that was no vacation. That last trip was a surreal and stressful journey to claim my father's body and deal with his unfinished business. This is going to be a real relaxation vacation. My brilliant mother-in-law, fancynancyjane will be watching over the bean here at home. The longest we have been away from our girl is one night, so this is going to be a kid free free for all. Whatever that means. May you all be happy, healthy and blissfully blogging on until I post again.
Aloha

Beach Holiday

We were ten big people and two little ones renting a big ol' house on the Oregon Coast for the holiday. With so many of us, it turned out to be quite affordable and ultimately, a little magical. The big cathedral windows looked straight out onto the ocean where we could watch the dramatic winter waves while we were cooking our feast.
...and what a feast it was! Everyone in our group happens to be an excellent cook, so we stuffed ourselves and played post feast games. The next day we started with Mimosas and breakfast then headed out to the beach for a nice long walk and the gathering of sea shells. It was a wonderful way to spend the holiday - in the company of friends and family in a beautiful setting. I'm ready to go back.
I just want to say Thanks.