Under a Red Roof

Thoughts in the Emerald City

December 11, 2011 in Celebrating, Exploring, Traveling, Writing by Colleen | Permalink

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.

Tags: My Poetry, Seattle

Cheeky Yellow

December 8, 2011 in Quoting by Colleen | Permalink

Art has to move you and design does not, unless it’s a good design for a bus.

David Hockney

Snapshot

December 6, 2011 in Loving, Making by Colleen | Permalink

This is what my life looks like sometimes, with bi-focals. The yellow I’m working on is a cowl for me, now finished and cozy, but in need of a hat and some matching hand warmers, no fingers, so I can take pictures and be touchy-feely. I’m on the hunt for just the right patterns.

I have also learned after making three cowls in a week, it is hard to watch television or a movie without the click click of needles in my hands. I feel sooo still.

p.s. My cats look huge!

Tags: cats

Night Light

December 5, 2011 in Exploring, Friendship by Colleen | Permalink

C-O-L-A cola.

What is neon?

Burnside!

Holman’s, I do not dare.

Unseen smut.

Brrr…it’s cold. Portland cold, anyway, with frozen birdbaths and hoary frosted crispy lawns that look pretty in the morning light. Slippery, too, though, so please mind your step.

I took these with Lori last night, a blogger’s delight photo shoot with our respective families in tow. We were all happily full of pasta and tiramisu, but never of the company. It’s fun when we are together, sharing salt shakers with a cool young person (oh my dear, what to call you?) and also laughing at how much we require. To my slight worry and surely to my Dad’s delight, I fully embraced the sodium!

As for the group, we chatted, laughed, and planned our futures, lamenting undone work of all varieties and broken Jesus candles while cheering exciting vacations and getaways. It’s marvelous to have friends.

So, I guess the pall over my mood has fully lifted. Life is good, gentle readers, indeed.

Tags: Neon, Portland

Last Friday

December 2, 2011 in Being, Exploring, Feeling by Colleen | Permalink

I’ve been in a jumble the whole of the week. For a myriad of reasons, I suppose, mostly of the construction variety. The unpredictability of well meaning skilled laborers tinkering and toiling in the basement. The crashing booming banging of progress and regression, two fluffy cats and two haggard humans hoping for a sweet and peaceful end.

Then there is my own mind and its tricky machinations. Why do I feel sad and disjointed when, in November, in the wet rubber boot city that is Portland, Oregon, we are lavished with a spell of straight off the Colorado plains weather? Crisp cold foggy mornings turning to radiant sunglass afternoons followed by flamingo sunsets. It’s an early gift of Christmas, yet my fickle mind refuses to soften, no matter how I wield the hammer. Oh chemistry of my circuitry, you do vex me.

These photos chronicle last Friday. We walked, sat, sipped, and prattled all around the town, a visually stunning day with the best mate a girl could ever ask for. I love YOU, Gregory Spencer Cooper, heart and soul.

Astonishing what dazzling light

and lively conversation can do for a mediocre meal.

Truly.

Mossy sunlight, you are Portland.

I’ve said it before and will say it again, Saint John’s Bridge, you are my best loved. Beautiful verdigris soaring above the murk of the Willamette, into dreams and the sky. Wrap me in a shroud and toss my spent body from yours. I shall not fall to the water, but rise to the heavens, with your spires as my wings.