Transitions

I have been busy switching seasons. After years in Los Angeles, I forgot that the switch of the seasons means a little more work. The garden can't just keep blooming; there is gleaning and mulching and all the summer toys must come inside. The hammock officially came down a few weeks ago. So sad. The herbs have been harvested and are hanging to dry, and all the pots are being emptied and stacked, waiting for the spring. A few new tulip bulbs are resting deep in the earth this year too. A new raspberry plant is rooting and a pink lavender plant joined the group. There are few mums giving one last bloom, but I suspect by Thanksgiving, they too will find rest.

I have been painting and sculpting and reading, enjoying the last bits of warm sunshine...

All I have left are my warm memories and this painting to remind me of the heights of summer!

Kaleidoscope

Mary

A leather crown of California Poppies and Northwest Dogwood

Through The Cosmos

No More Words For Now

Apologies

I feel so fickle, deciding to tell the truth. Then being silent for so long. It has been a dark time, despite the sun. I try to be involved in the world, but I struggle. I decided to tell the whole story, but now the hot, orange sun is shining. Even though we are still in Portland, it feels like The City of Angels at Michaelmas Time. I am distracted. There are summer fires east of Portland, casting a searing glow upon everything. The sunrise has no ribbons of violet or pink, but just a deep, penetrating vermillion effulgence. The days are dry and hot. The grass is crispy and dead. As I sit on the porch steps in the late afternoon, I am hot. Like all the way to the bone hot. These are the days I long for in February. To be so hot, I am miserable. I have always lived in simple abodes, usually sans dishwasher or air conditioning. I have learned to love the shifting of the extremes in weather without being lulled into complacency by endless cold air or houses sealed tight. So, here I am and for now, this is what I have been doing:

Ripening Ground Cherries. Like teeny tiny Pineapples.

All the neighborhood babes are out playing in the sun.

Blackberry Pies are on the menu.

A little en plein aire.

A little puppy love.

Twenty One

An addition to the Blair Lake saga, I didn't mention what I did four days later. It just so happens that my first-born entered the world a mere four days after my 23rd birthday. So after my birthday swim and a few days at work, I made my way back down the fire road. This time with a very large vegan birthday cake for my girl. She was turning ten. And now, she is turning 21. I have raised on her on my own for most of her life, I was happy to do it. I like her, she is fun to be around and witty and has great taste in vintage clothes. She is a beauty. And I wasn't sad to be a single mother. Really. It was hard and lonely and isolating at times, but at the end of the day, it felt good to be their mother.

To work hard and earn the money to support them, it was nice. I am glad that I had the opportunity then, because now, well now, I don't have a career. So I guess I would have been screwed. So I am glad I had the opportunity to teach in that school in Altadena while I did, it provided me with income and health insurance. I thought it gave me more, relationships, value, but I was wrong. All of that was ripped away when I was forced to hire an attorney to help fight Employer's Insurance of Nevada. They were the cut rate Workers' Compensation company that the school hired. It was all ripped away. All of the relationships I forged and nurtured are gone after eight years. Gone. I mean I may NEVER see or speak to these people ever again. The teacher I walked with EVERYDAY during our free periods, sharing teaching tips and family stories, I may never take a walk with her again. It kind of hurts my heart, because I thought our friendship was real. I also love her daughter, I met her when she was seven. She hates me now. For good reason in her eyes, I suppose...but I still love her and her mother very much. I think of them often.

There are many other stories of lost friendships just like this...just because of this work injury. It makes me want to cry....