Exploring

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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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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.

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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.

Forever

awed

by

the beauty

of the

everyday.

  This is where we live, each and every one of us.

Ah, just there, I felt it soften.

…

Happiest of Birthdays to my Grandma.

Hugs and profound love…

 

 

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All that we behold is full of blessings.

William Wordsworth

…

Thinking of you, Wendy!

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Do you remember this?  Well, I hurt my knee again, and yes, it happened while sitting on the toilet.  I am a short, child at heart kind of person and like to let my legs swing.  I hope you weren’t drinking a beverage while reading that sentence.  The hubster always seems to tell me funnies while I am drinking, and it takes all my superhero power to keep it from exiting via my nose.  Or perhaps you didn’t find it funny.  That’s okay, too.  It takes all kinds.

Anyhoo, as a result of my injury, though it is much less severe than last time, and my great luck to have a perfect fall day, yesterday I skipped yoga and tramped around instead.

I explored like a tourist and made every attempt to walk streets I hadn’t in a while.  I am always amazed at the intimate details of cities, those bits that unify humanity: a proud papa strolling his little one, a kaleidescope of leaves on the ground, puffs of clouds in the sky, cats clamoring for belly rubs before dashing off.  This is happening here, this tiny little world, yet there are variations of it in a myriad of places.

Am I walking down those streets, too?  Is the light as bright, the air as crisp, my smile as broad?  Is my camera slung about my left or right side? Did I remember my gloves?

Do you wonder about these things?  Do you struggle to put them to words?  Perhaps your thoughts are elsewhere.  What is for dinner?  Is that crazy lady in the sunglasses crossing the street to talk to me? Man that baby is cute in her green sweater.  I wish I were courageous.  I wish I didn’t have so much to do.  I wish you were here, holding my hand.

Then there is a flash, a ruffling of leaves, a flurry of bird wings, and silence before it begins again.  I walk on and home to love.

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