Under a Red Roof

We Have No Apple Today…

February 4, 2009 in Feeling, Giving by Colleen | 2 comments

This is our house last April, right after having it painted the utterly perfect green color. To the left is our ginormous apple tree, a few blossoms open. Little did we know this would be the last spring for this marvelously productive tree.

We worried about the apple from the moment we moved into the house. Someone had done some very strange shaping and the enormous root system made it appear as though the tree was planted about eight feet from it’s current location, then snaked on the ground to the right spot and allowed to grow, and grow, and grow. The tree was tall and made tons and tons of apples. I spent many a day lining them up along the front wall, ready for any passerby who had a hankering. Then there was the time contemplating recipes for cider, apple butter, apple sauce, apple muffins, apple crisp, apple pie, apple cake, triple apple cake! Sometimes it made my head spin.

Then, one day about a month ago, I was out front weeding and felt a certain springiness. Had it been a spring in my step, I wouldn’t have worried. I’m that kind of gal. As I walked closer to the crazy roots, it increased, and I noticed a hole, small, but enough to signal trouble. The tree was starting to heave out of the ground. Thankfully it lasted through the awful wind storm. Having it topple then would have been a rather big bummer.

This is our yard without it, a gaping space of light and emptiness. I cried the day the men cut it down. It had provided so much for us – a riot of beautifully scented blooms, a place to watch and feed the wildlife, shade, secrecy, wonderfully crisp apples, the opportunity to share with friends and strangers. Thankfully there is always a silver lining. It opens up the view of the house and provides us with the space for me to indulge in a sometimes obsessive love for cherries, especially the tart kind that are great for pies and drying. Now I can have my very own tree! I hope there is a dwarf variety to suit our small front yard. I don’t want a repeat. Think good thoughts, won’t ya?

Feeling Grateful

October 6, 2008 in Feeling, Loving, Thinking by Colleen | 1 comment

I’ve been having a difficult time accessing my inner Pollyanna these last few weeks, and all my usual tricks to make myself feel better – exercise, gardening, cooking, home projects – aren’t having their desired effect, so here is a little something I saw over at my friend Kelli’s to help me through.

Reasons I feel grateful today:

1. My cute partner in crime pictured above. I love him and our life together more than words can say.

2. Also, to toot my own horn – I’m pretty fond of the composition of the above photo – the reflection in the mirror and the window are soo good lookin’ (a little Seinfeld never hurts either).

3. I’ve almost made up my mind about all of these candidates, and there is less than a month left of television ads. Yippee!

4. Not-so-guilty pleasure – I got Sex and the City: The Movie on DVD! Maybe I should put some new batteries in the remote, because, gentle readers, I’m going to be pressing the pause button a-plenty analyzing all those wardrobe changes.

5. Time with good friends – Nia with Mara, movies with Bridget, and long phone conversations with Sarah, not to mention the upcoming Bunco night with the whole posse!

6. The rain is back and my grass is turning green again…

Ahh, that helped!

Be Back Soon…

September 11, 2008 in Feeling by Colleen | 1 comment

I’m feeling a bit out of sorts but promise to be back Monday.

Wishing you well…

When darkness brings no relief…

August 15, 2008 in Being, Feeling, Watching by Colleen | 1 comment

My dear friend Bridget came home yesterday, after a two week vacation in California. As we are movie buddies, hitting the Academy Theater together about every other week, I was itching to go. Luckily, there was something we wanted to see, after a very unfortunate dry spell of lack-luster summer movies.

Since her house is on the way to the theater, I always drive, and so, I began to follow my usual route. It was an awfully hot day for Portlanders, 101 degrees, which I think changed the physics of the neighborhood somehow, or maybe it was just the music. I was playing a beautiful Andrew Bird song called Yawny at the Apocalypse, and felt, well, different, dreamy. Darkness was coming on quickly, yet the notes of the song seemed to prolong those last minutes of twilight, and I was acutely aware of all that was happening around me.

The handsome grey-haired man riding his bicycle, back light blinking to the beat of my heart. The sound of the Mini passing the myriad parked cars. The old man, back bent, eager to keep pace with his little dog. More cyclists riding silently, almost floating down 52nd. The world was slow and hot – the impending darkness bringing no relief from the fiery day. I arrived at Bridget’s and realized that the strange light from the heat made everything appear slightly blurred and soft – beautiful. It was idyllic and magical and lovely. We drove on, enjoying each other’s company after our long absence, eager to sit in a cool theater and enter another world.

The world we entered, that of The Fall, was a perfect match for the evening. It was an epic and surreal tale of how broken people become whole again – through story telling, friendship, and ultimately love. The cinematography was exquisitely beautiful – vibrant colors and intimate camera angles, painting a portrait that will reside in me for a long, long time. The cherry on top of a perfectly hot day.

Tiny Holes and Grace

August 6, 2008 in Being, Feeling, Loving, Receiving, Thinking by Colleen | 2 comments

I was lying on the sofa, reading, when I glanced up at the light. Ugh, it’s got dead bugs in it, I thought rather loudly to myself. As I stared at their little dead bodies, I lamented the sometimes insidious nature of insects, and how they often create work for me. Like how, now that I’ve noticed them, I’ll have to go through the hassle of getting the step ladder, carefully removing the fixture, and cleaning it all up – definitely not on the top ten list of cherished activities (though what is? hmmm…).

Then, as I continued gazing at the light, I wondered, how do the little critters get in there anyway? Though you can barely see them in the photo, they only appear to be specks, they seem too large to have crawled in through a hole. Yet, there they are.

This got me thinking some more about how tiny, often imperceptible, holes in my being act as an entry point on a spiritual and emotional level. I thought about people and events that I don’t like, and how little bits of them squeeze their way through a perforation in my shell and infest my mind with angry and unkind thoughts. I really hate it when that happens, especially when I know how much lovelier life is when I’m not tumbling down to the lower depths.

Then, as grace would have it, I also thought about those same holes, and how the most wonderful and generous gifts enter through them: a smile when I least expect it, a kind word, the light in the hallway, the sight of my husband, a million different instances that spread like the light of dawn in my heart.

Suddenly I felt tears prick at my eyes, and I looked at the bugs again but this time with gratitude. Thank you for bringing this bit of grace into my life.