Yesterday I sat and watched the SuperBowl and knit. Great for getting a project done but not so great for my back and bum. Since I spent my weekend doing weekend things, the phone call telling me we were having a snow day meant free time to do more of what I like to do – photography!
I went out into parts of the neighborhood I don’t often explore and found lots of interesting things to capture in my magic box.
It rained hard yesterday. I think it was the wettest day we’ve had so far this fall. After coffee and a stretch, I was feeling cooped up. I put on my favorite jeans, best waterproof coat and a hat and went out into it. Down the block to Home Depot, (I love walking in smelling all that new wood.) On the way down the block I was wishing I’d brought my camera with me so I headed back home and grabbed it. Back out into the wet again and snapped some shots.
Today it was a perfect fall day. Cooler and those dark gray clouds but no rain, so Mike and I went for a walk in Whatcom Falls Park.
(It is more fun to sift through photos than listen to the debate playing in the background….)
The deer walked tentatively into the yard
looking up at each sound
as he grazed his way across the lawn.
He came to the edge of the garden
and dipped his mouth to the daisies
tipping their faces to his shoulders.
A door slid open;
a hesitant cough sounded.
The deer gazed intently for a few minutes
then turned and left the flower bed.
Sometimes I get really lost in editing photos in Picasa. I love to open each photo and notice where my eyes go, then try to crop and high light what was most eye catching. I often take pictures because I’m attracted to the texture I see in front of me but when I get the pictures onto the computer other whole worlds open up.
Last weekend I wandered around my friend’s wet and cold and newly green Seattle garden. I found old and new growth that captured my interest. Tonight, when I loaded the pictures up and began my little eye tour, I found a secret garden, only visible when I look, and look again, and look once more.
I saw a vibrant and colorful garden and a delicately contrasting black and white garden.
My friend and I arranged a month ago to attend an event featuring author Ruth Ozeki chatting about her documentary, Halving the Bones. I was really looking forward to it. At the last minute we found out we should have reserved a spot at this “free” event. We hadn’t and now it was “sold out.” Bummer.
A young woman in my friend’s life said, “Who cares! Just go out for a girl’s night!” So we did. Wine and appetizers and conversation. We are already thinking of where we might go try another happy hour some time.
Happy Hour – I never did this as a young woman. My daughter does it all the time. The younger teachers at school do this. I know why I didn’t do it when I was their age – no money, 2 kids, a husband who worked swing so no time to get away either.
But there is no excuse now. Well maybe the money thing but we can become Happy Hour coupon shoppers!
So while I am truly sorry I didn’t get to see Ozeki’s film, I am really thankful these bones of mine got to sit across from another bundle of bones and chew the fat.
I feel abandoned; I admit it. You’ve all flown off to sunny-warm-peaceful-lazy-dazy-sleep in-and swim-at-night Hawaii and I’m here alone in cusp-of-spring-but-more-like-winter-sometimes blue-but cold-and-yes wet-PNW February.
I saw the first signs I would be in this situation after Christmas when you packed away your trees or put them by the curb and stopped talking about the warm glow of family time and began haunting internet airline and VRBO sites hunting down points and rental cars and sleeping accomodations. I noticed when your cheeks began to burn in mid-January because you’d made your plans, a result of your reluctance to share the secret of your plans to run away with us, the “Left Behind.” While we celebrated and counted the additional minutes of daylight each day with joy, you were madly counting your days until take-off, dreaming at night of warm sunlight, beaches and ocean breezes.
Work and reality kept me from the full realization of my abandonment until the Facebook photos appeared: bare toes at the edge of ocean beach scenes, drinks sparkling on little tables close at hand, fish caught fresh for dinner. But it wasn’t until the photos stopped that I really felt the slap – because you are now really gone.
You’re having fun, you’ve left reality behind, you are in Never Never Land with Peter Pan. No pirates, no crocodiles, no ticking clocks.
And I’m here with my shadow! Friends and Countrymen! Could you at least send Tinkerbell to keep me company?
Sifting through beads near the front windows of your shop, I overheard bits and pieces of your conversation with the twenty-something who drifted in just after me. You greeted her in a way that told me she was a regular visitor but not an acquaintance outside of the shop.
You asked how she was doing and I heard all the aspects of F.I.N.E. in her voice and stories.
And you listened.
And you asked questions.
And you named her strengths.
You kept your eye on your shop and continued to offer me assistance throughout the conversation and when I came to the counter for my purchase, I wanted to say thank you out loud for the retail therapy I was witnessing. But I didn’t of course.
I’ll just be back to your shop.