Celebrating

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Hello sunshine! Hello dear readers! I am celebrating two weekends worth of digging, mulching, squatting, and shoveling with photos.

The little sprouts are peas. The big leaves are rhubarb. Cross your fingers that the slugs don’t devour them all!

A brave gnome protects the boysenberries. The mulched area in the foreground is our new blueberry patch.

The herb garden and cherry tree.

The flower garden, with one fat squirrel going to town on bird seed. Everyone needs to eat!

The new strawberry patch. There’s a terracotta hedgehog, too.

From the gate.

Red roof with scrub jay and our apple tree in full boom.

The Indian plum hedge is slowly looking like one!

Woodland path with pink azalea.

Last weekend’s labor – mulch, mulch, mulch!

Dogwood and tulip blooming.

Happy Earth Day!

 

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Sixty-Four

Happy Birthday, Daddy! You’re a Beatles song now.

XOXO

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My words are off somewhere, a bear, hibernating in a cave, or, perhaps, a chickadee, chirruping around the neighborhood, collecting a single morsel at a time. She zooms hither and thither from her cache, a wild, blank canvas that will reveal a marvelous pattern in its own time, not a moment sooner.

In the meantime, I decorate, gathering wind fallen branches, unpacking well-loved treasures, and lighting candles by the score. I knit, needles steadily clicking at scarves and snoods and soon to be hats and hand warmers. Then there are the hours upon hours spent in the craft room, cutting, arranging, and sewing fabric into quilts. Honest. Meditative. Sweet.

I hope that you are well and that your heart is made lighter by all that is good in the world. The light of your love. The voice of a friend. The warmth of an embrace. The things that truly matter.

 

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When I was in Denver, after every single visit with a friend or family member, in that very private place that was my rental car, I would cry. Sometimes they were tiny tears, stopped with a widening of the eyes and a deep sigh. Others were trickier, that salty-sweet spill on my lap and hands as I drove and sang to Radiohead or Iron & Wine. Worst, or best, actually, in hindsight, were the variety that came in a torrent, and I pulled the car to the side of the road while they did their work. I just saw someone special to me! They were right there and we hugged and laughed and talked until my throat was sore! So very many cough drops, my friends.

Then there were the times when the tears could not wait, like with Kelli when she was driving, or during lunch with Hef, and with my parents and grandparents, and when I caught my first glimpse of Wendy in the distance, the very first time since high school (that’s twenty-three years, math lovers).

Then I got home, standing at the curb at the airport, and the hubster pulled up with this light in his eyes, so happy to see me, and we hugged for the longest time before taking the long way home, so I could see the city I love a bit more slowly.

And the other day, to celebrate another year of Colleen Sohn on this marvelous planet circling the sun, I had friends over. We ate and drank and talked and talked. And they humbled me with straight from the heart kindness and thoughtful gifts, but mostly their warm presence in my life.

So the title. All of this makes me think of that story, and how there was enough and more from impossibly little. My life is like that. Every time I think there couldn’t be more kindness or love, someone shows me. Every time I think life couldn’t be more beautiful, flowers bloom. A friend calls. A bird sings. A cat purrs. The hubster smiles. Music plays. I round the bend and there is the Saint John’s Bridge.

Shining examples of how good it all is.

 

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Squee!

Happy Monday, one and all! We’re in Reed Canyon, enjoying one of Laura O. Foster’s Portland Hill Walks on the sunniest of Earth Days. Gosh it was lovely yesterday, eighty-two degrees, I think, and part of three days of warm temperatures in a row, with sun!

We walked to the walk, which was ever so fine. Short-sleeves and sunglasses and sunscreen required.

As per usual, we learned a lot, despite the location being a frequent destination for us, though we’d never actually ventured into the canyon before, usually taking the bridge over the water.

It was cool to see it from this perspective, to be, quite literally, in the thick of it. Our feet squished in a bottom land full of all manner of plants and flying creatures. There was a cacophony of birds and bees and who knows what else zooming to important destinations.

The air was rich with moss and oxygen, flowers and decay.

On our way home now. People decorate with everything in these parts.

And drive very personalized vehicles. Have I told you about the black van with the “Halen” license plate? Eighties music fans rejoice! Too bad I didn’t have my camera that day.

Upon our return home, the hubster was ever so tired and napped on the patio with Paris. Though he doesn’t really need to be tired for such activity. He is that kind of sleeper. Sometimes I envy him for it, but mostly I watch and smile and sometimes laugh.

This is from today – look at the sunshine streaming in the window! It was perfect for hanging out with one my littlest friends. We’re spending more time together while his Mommy takes care of her cancer. Today, he watched me hang clothes on the line, hunted cats and gnomes in the backyard, made full use of the laundry chute, threw paper airplanes, ate ravioli, and made a cake.

He was very pleased with the way it turned out. It is almost Brobee from Yo Gabba Gabba!

My name is Colleen, and I like to dance…

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Good morning, blog lovers!

The hubster and I don’t really celebrate the day, save to say “Happy Valentine’s” before our usual shower of kisses, but as I am one who is a great believer in sharing love, here is a Valentine Playlist, with songs that stand the test of time. You can even play it for real! Dance and kiss to your heart’s content…

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Architecture is frozen music.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Hey brother, Happy Birthday!

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Well, here we are gentle readers, 2012, and it feels quite lovely, I must say.  Last year was such a wild and wonderful year for us, with so very many changes, most of them good, but some happily left to molder in the scribbly annals of 2011. As for this year, it’s on track to be a humdinger.

The hubster, if all goes to plan, will only have one W-2 and master quite a few songs on the piano.  He is well on his way with this song from Amelie.  It’s been ever so fun to watch him progress through all the keyboard fingerings and strange to hear something from a film I love and know so well be made by his hands.

Also, very soon (quite possibly this week!) we will be done with the hanging of pictures in the bathroom before even more painting, decorating, and picture hanging in the basement and a house that is, for all intents and purposes, finished.  It only took eighty-one years! How marvelous to walk into rooms once creepy and beyond ugly for so very long and see them just as they’ve been in my head for years. Patience has its rewards.

Which is also quite good because there will be one grand bash at our house this year to celebrate – are you ready peeps? The publishing of my novel!  I can hardly believe the wheels are in motion on this, with all sorts of action happening behind the scenes and the reason for my sometimes erratic postings, as of late.

In some ways, I wish I could say it’s being published by some big New York house to save me from the large out of pocket expense and to make me rich and famous, but alas, the publishing business is a fickle one, and writers, unless they are already celebrated, have so little control, so I am taking the reins.  Polite Society will be done to suit my very particular tastes, beautiful, simple, and small, and complete with illustrations from my beyond talented friend and Art & Letters partner in crime, Maren. She will be posting a selection of fabulous drawlin’s (as we’ve been calling them) shortly over on her blog, but in the mean time, wouldn’t you like to know what the Gastro-Gnome has been up to?

Many thanks to the hubster for everything, but mostly for believing in me and my talents, to my dear friends who read my work in progress (especially to Maren, and soon to Jef – BIG hugs to you both), Seth Godin for spurring me on with his inspirational blog, and my friend Kelli, who self-published her own novel and keeps me inspired in a myriad of other ways, large and small.

Stay tuned for pre-ordering information and all the best to you in 2012!

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Hello dear readers,

How are you?  Wrapped up, warm and wonderful, I hope.  I am cold, despite a multitude of layers and a hat on my head.  And busy, writing, revising my novel, spending days in a flurry of words and fleeting thoughts.  It’s been rather lovely and satisfying, though all consuming, too.

The workers are done, the last out on Friday, and the quiet’s been blissful.  No more banging or wondering when someone will arrive.  No new dust being scattered by labor either, though plenty of the old dust is still getting kicked around.  I’m thinking we’ll have one of those furnace cleaners come after the new year, and then we will paint the basement, too, so very, very many gallons.

I’ve still not hung the pictures in the bathroom, nor decorated our house for the holidays, save two candles and a festive plaid cloth on the dining room table.  To be honest, I don’t really miss it.  I’m just so happy for quiet and grateful to get things done, that it doesn’t seem to matter.

In the evenings, after my mind is spent, and I’ve made some sort of soup for dinner, last night was possibly the best fish chowder, and the night before minestrone, I settle in on the sofa, knit, and watch movies.  It’s about all my little brain wants or can handle.  The hubster plays the piano (he’s learning music from Amelie), types away on his very old Commodore-64 in his new man-cave, or sits with me, a cat on his lap and mine.

It’s a wonderful life, sometimes busy and hectic, but mostly exactly what we want, and always good, lovely, and fine.

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I believe in all that is luxe

and cities kitted out in their holiday best.

I believe

in luminous goodness

concealed in darkness,

in the impossible made true,

in old friends,

in pride whipping the sky,

and quiet roars

wrapped in moonlight.

I believe

in this home away from home,

made carefully by hand,

a place worthy of reflecting,

and spying what is ahead

the unexpected curves

and sights unseen

shared with love.

I believe in the power of music

to rock

and love

then and now

in utero,

life, and death.

I believe

the truth

is out there

and in here

and that great light

follows

those who share it

by sea,

land, and air.

Come with me

to the place we all share

be yourself,

and stay.

 

 

 

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