I Wish I Had A River

Oh I wish I had a river

I could skate away on

But it don't snow here

It stays pretty green...

At one point, after college, I had to stop listening to Joni Mitchell. She has always had a profound effect on me. I haven't been listening to her songs too much lately, but this one creeps in every once and awhile. I no longer live by a river. The ocean is a bit of a drive.  Not only does it stay pretty green, but it was 80 degrees here today. I even put the air conditioner on in the car. Sorry to all of you east coasters. I have had the words of this song running through my mind recently. I seem to hear them whenever I am feeling blue or confused or lost. I can't seem to shake the sadness. I really wish there was a frozen river, snaking through the bare, gnarled branches of silhouetted trees, that I could skate away on.

Oh, I know, my situation will remain the same, regardless of the shore I land upon, but it feels good to imagine the escape. I have always been a trooper, a doer, I never rested for a moment. But this, this period seems long and just sad. I hate that I can't push through this quickly, that I am doomed(allowed,) to feel every tinge of this point of my life. I am having a hard time having faith, trusting my instincts. I am trying not to be surprised by what the future brings and holds. I know my future is out in front of me, I just need to walk toward it. Can I do it with my eyes closed, like a roller coaster, or a scary movie?

I hope you all have not run away. I started this blog because I was feeling so isolated and lonely. Your positive comments have been so reassuring. I already feel a camaraderie from those who have left comments or sent personal emails. All of them have helped. Immensely. 

My ocean is not frozen over, the only frozen things around are the ice cubes in my freezer. No skating away. Just living. opening my eyes each day, making the best of it. I promise, the next post will be lighter, funny even. Clowns? Improv? I will keep you guessing!

The Painting Begins

We have had unseasonably warm weather here in the City of Angels. Bright and clear skies, there were numerous star sightings two nights ago. Not such a big deal in Montana, but here in the southern regions of California, a clear glimpse at Orion's belt is cause for pause. 

The warm winds are gently teasing the palm fronds and the last of the golden leaves are floating earthward. Even the heavy orange globes of the citrus tree are sighing with the passing of the wind. I have been taking advantage of the warm days and hanging the laundry out on the line. This is always a pleasure for me and I am always astounded that the sun has such power. The squirrels are busy scurrying up and down the twin palms in the yard while I attempt to rekindle my love of painting. I have never gone this long without brush in hand. The warm January sun is even a little hot on the back of my neck. I recently posted that I was afraid to paint. I still am, but I thought it would be best to simply begin. Take the first step.

While I waited for paint to dry, I was able to snap a few photos of the backyard. There is something in my soul that craves the simplicity of the 1940's. I know, they were hard times. I just have this yearning for a life colored in sepia, household items of wood and tin. Real materials to do my work, a worn bread board, a noisy flour sifter and time. Time to live into the day and into my work. To paint, to tend to the chores, to rest...