Who hath desired the sea?*

after a family gathering tonight, we're headed to stay

in a shingled house by the sea.

there's a cozy spot quite like this one in the main part of the house. Upon the sight of it,
I dubbed it as my sleeping quarters and my daytime lounging spot.
it's perfect for reading and looking out at the ocean.

we're each in charge of a meal and a day's worth of activities.
so far i've found four killer cookie recipes and
a list of local design shops.
chocolate marshmallow cookies and sea salt caramel brownies count
as a main dish. especially on vacation.
i pulled out the travel folder from my work files
and am excited to peruse the local design scene, albeit possibly solo.
i've looked up bookshops, too.
more will be in tow on those outings, perhaps.

mostly, i'm excited for sea and sand and uninterrupted time with family.

*"The Sea and the Hills," by Rudyard Kipling

mercury falling

Wednesday night after a summer rainstorm,
the mountains just shy of Park City
were ablaze with the orange light
of the setting sun.

Spilling what seemed to be
some sort of prehistoric lava,
purple mountains majesty changed
into deep shades of obsidian.

. . .

Fill my eyes
O Lithium sunset.

the Atlantic

I read an article last week about a woman who built her dream house on the north Atlantic shore. She has always been drawn there and has now settled there for good. I identified with her fondness for the sea on the east, preferring it most times to the sand on the west.

I made a packing list last night for our trip to the beach. We're headed to the shores of Oregon.

Last week when we arrived I followed my usual routine: unpack my things and hang my clothes on the hangers. Which is funny because I've been living out of a suitcase between trips for almost a month now, even at home. I thought it would make the time between trips go faster, but all it does is make for really wrinkly clothes.

deep greens and blues are the colors I choose

In the evening sun we drove until the pavement stopped and the dirt road began. From there we wound around within the bowl the surrounding mountains created, while the car kicked up clouds of dust too thick to see the sheep in the fields.

We ate fresh tomato, basil and mozzarella sandwiches out on the big porch (with screens on three sides) and talked until the evergreens turned dark blue and came tumbling down the mountain in long, sharp shadows.

After a while, the moon rose and pulled a blanket over our conversation. All became quiet and still. We packed the silver truck full of what was left and drove past bleating sheep and the babbling brook down in the pasture. Night owls are in good company. The sound of gravel was quiet backdrop to our collective narrative. Soon tires gripped pavement and started to hum along the highway.

If you're lucky enough to be in the mountains, he said, you're lucky enough.

{image}

world on a string

Three small globes hang above my drafting desk. They are round and perfect, each one suspended by fishing line from a fishing pole I found under the stairs. One is identical to a globe I gave a boy who told me he wanted a house with a library full of only books and a big globe. The expensive kind that sit snugly in wooden stands. The kind that belong in a Universe of books, and when you close your eyes and run your hands along as the world madly spins, mountain ranges and dips in the ocean floor rise up to meet your fingers. One of the globes is teeny tiny. It's coming apart at the seams, creating longitudes between the longitudes. The other doesn't have much meaning but it seems to round out the other two. It's the biggest of the bunch and tonight I hung a tiny silver star along side it, facing north. At night, when the lamplight is dim, three shadows appear on the wall, lunar eclipses big enough to swallow each earth whole.
* * *
I've been thinking about creation -- the creation of the earth. Of man. Of ideas. About how, in the beginning, we looked down upon a temporal earth with an eternal perspective and agreed to come to spots on the globe. To longitude and latitude lines. We agreed to come to an earth created by an infinite Creator. And here, on this temporary earth, this secular sphere, we could use the creations of the Creator and create things for ourselves. Ideals. Thoughts. Things of beauty. Coming downward was the only way we could move forward. We knew and understood this. We rejoiced in the promise of brilliant colors, and rippling waves, and terrestrial soil under our feet. And shouted for joy.
* * *
I get fixated on certain spots on each globe, longitudes and latitudes I have yet to straddle. I put figurative dots on the places I've been in one color and dots in another color for the places I'd like to go. There are many days when I wish there were more dots of the other color, that I'd been more places. Sometimes the world seems so big, the dots so far apart. The shadow of the moon seems large and looming. On those days, I like to look up at my worlds on a string, spin them slowly and remember to take it one day at a time.

San Diego Serenade

Gracias to the following:
The Peppertree Lane clan for palm trees outside my window, fresh peaches picked along side B Man, and a ferris wheel ride with a view to die for.
To MC for calling E just before getting on said ferris wheel.
To The Wolf for letting me drive his BMW.
To Cole et al. Thanks for hangin'.
To Wayne for the tour, the ghost stories, for finally answering our questions about what lies beyond the gravel and the 3,000 year old redwood tree stumps.
To Baby J for blue eyes and shaggy blond hair.
To the pastry chef at Extraordinary Desserts (I wish we were best friends so we could share secrets)
To E Del Mar, for 'you only live once,' for shouting Whole Wide World along the coastline, for making those old dudes take our pic by that trail, for driving across the big blue bridge, etc. etc. etc.

Catch a wave and you're sittin' on top of the world...

While I'm playing around on Flickr, see more photos here.

{Above, in order of appearance: Big Red, Cole, The Kid}

Endless Summer

Back from a week of sand and surf. It was, in a word, Heavenly.* As promised, I'm working on a slide show. Thanks to D for the new lenses. And thanks to all surfers who participated. Especially Cole. You're my fave. For like ever.

Oh, California

Thought I’d never reach the water

Had to cross the desert and the great divide
Drinking only golden promises
With white lines in my eyes

Oh, California
It’s the one big love that you cannot end
Oh, California
It’s not like before but we can still pretend

Oh, California
I can see you now from the top of that hill
Oh, California
Though many have gone I have the memories still
Oh, California
I can hear the sound of the mission bell
Oh, California
We’re one stone’s throw from heaven

|lyrics by Colin Hay, photo by me|

*Holla to an injured wave rider. May your wounds heal soon. Thanks for teaching me in the wise ways of the Surfer Dude.