Archive for the ‘Week 16’ Category
A somehow familiar, female voice whispers, “Don’t be afraid.”
I am. Who’s in my room?
“I know you’re awake. You’ve stopped snoring. So, listen.”
“Why didn’t you go to California?” she asks from the darkness.
I twist uncomfortably in my sheets. It’s summer. The fan blasts the warm and humid air around the room. I’m too afraid to even stir enough to wake up Doug.
“I’ve been waiting for 20 years, and you’ve never left. Everybody else went as planned. Why not you?”
I realize why the voice is familiar yet strange.
“I was afraid,” I finally speak.
“Of what would happen, or not happen, I guess.
Now, I’m no longer afraid, but annoyed. Why is regret in my room at four a.m.? I have to get up for school in just one hour.
“Well, you know what happened when you didn’t go?”
“You’ll never know. Will you?”
“No. I suppose that’s true-“
Regret interrupts, “Of course it’s true. A missed opportunity is missed forever. Why did you listen to fear?”
“I listened to fear more often, too often, back then.”
“I didn’t know about the ‘rocking chair test’ yet.”
“The rocking chair test. You know when you imagine yourself as an old woman, sitting on your front porch, rocking and looking back on your life. What you did and did not do because of fear.”
“Oh. How has this helped you not be afraid?”
“I’m still afraid. At first. But now I try to stop that voice that reminds me of what could go wrong. Shut her up, but I didn’t know how to do that – or that it was even possible when I was 18. Why would I have?”
“So, experience has helped you to shut it up?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So, where are you going now?”
In the town of Ossipee, New Hampshire (incorporated 1785) located next to the Rail Road line in the village of Center Ossipee this two and one half story wood frame building of approximately 4832 square feet has attached a grain elevator standing some 60 feet high.
Joseph W. Chamberlain an active Center Ossipee business man had the grain elevator constructed in or about 1912. The timbers said to have been cut and sawed locally by one “Boss” Wiggin. It has been difficult to date the actual construction of the grain elevator the title for the land with the buildings on it is on record at the Carroll County Registry of Deeds dating back to 1875. It appears the Chamberlain Block could have been constructed as two separate buildings and later attached in the early 1900s. The grain elevator still bears the name Carroll County Land and Lumber Co. and Purina Chow. The Chamberlain building facing the south exposure borders the Boston and Main Rail Road and is located at the junction of Main Street, Center Ossipee, Moultonville Road and Dore Street. This business location is within walking distance of the Central School, Ossipee Town Hall, post office, town library and other businesses. The first floor of the building has served over the hundred years as local business locations, the second floor has been used as a meeting hall, court room, the towns first motion picture theater and as a dance hall, in later years as apartments. Although remodeled many times over the years the original structure can still be identified from old photographs. The grain elevator has served no other purpose and some of the original machinery remains on the site to this date.
The Grain Elevator
A short history
The grain elevator said to have been constructed in or about 1912 is an unusual structure for a rural New Hampshire community. The Chamberlain built grain elevator received grain from the train cars on the side track. This grain was stored in the bins until sold from the grain store owned and operated by Mr. Chamberlain. Some of the original machinery remains on site along with the large bins that held thousands of bushels of grain. The timbers used in construction of this structure remain intact and sound to this day. chamberlainblock.com/Chamberlain Block Grain Elevator.html
I snapped this photo at a parade on the 4th of July
New Hampshire Seacoast Summer
I love summer. I’m a desert girl, through and through. I’m here for family, not for the climate. These few months of New England heat are the only thing that sustain me through the long, snowy winters. Sure, I make attempts to find something entertaining to do in the cold months. Skiing? I twisted my knee first time down the bunny slope and if one more person told me to pizza wedge, they would find themselves pizza-wedged very unpleasantly. Skating? I do it. Hell, the ice arena is a 2 minute walk from my house. My grandiose ideas of “What would Brian Boitano do?” last about 15 minutes and I’m ready for a hot toddy and a blanket. Snowshoeing worked out well when I discovered the benefit of using them to get to the pub for a pint when the roads weren’t clear enough to navigate. This is a vast distance from my comfort zone.
Today it was over 100F in the shade. Me? I chose full sun!
Every year, my daughter and I spend as much time at the ocean as we can. Often in our bright blue kayaks. We are some of the fortunate few who live in vacationland. Once the car is loaded, we can be beachside in less than 20 minutes.
Pack the cooler with fancy sammiches (today was curry chicken salad with red onion, black currants, and apples), a fruit salad (watermelon, pomegranate, apple, mango, greek yogurt and basil), spicy coleslaw, a giant jug of lemonade, and an equally large container of iced coffee. I swear the act of creating the lunch is an art form. Grab a beach blanket, throw some chairs in the trunk, get some light reading (preferably something with supernatural characters who have questionable morals), and don’t forget the boogie boards. Little VW Beetle, Mom, Grammy, Ava and Amity tucked in with precision in order to get all the people and gear where they need to go.
I have to give my mother some massive props. She has the skin tone that sunshine likes to light aflame. Ah, Frannie Pye. Mumma’s first question when her children were born was always, “Is it a redhead?” She got the alabaster glow that makes the vampires say, “Whoa!” Yet after a full day in the sun yesterday listening to the music stylings of Red Molly (BUY THEIR CD!!) and Lori McKenna (I double dog dare you to listen without your heart going every which way!!), she jumped in the car with us to face more blistering, albeit this time with an parasol in hand.
We have our secret spot. The beach the tourists don’t know. The parking is free. The sand is not crowded. The water is… okay, fine! It’s f**king cold. Always is, but today it felt smashing!
One of our traditions is sand art. Amity (she’s like another daughter to me. I adore this girl!) decided Ava needed to become a mermaid. I couldn’t have agreed more and set about collecting seaweed for her hair.
Flying lesson 16
Wondering whether it’s necessary to always plan in advance or if it’s possible to carry out these flying lessons spontaneously without “forgetting” them. Have an idea of when to walk but then I decide to just let things be and whenever time is right then it is right.
Wash and fold laundry, answer emails and organise the kitchen.
Everything will be all right if I don’t think too much.
So with confidence I walk into the fog!
Finally walking across the bridge again, it’s been a while. It feels perfectly OK to walk away from the island downhill.
Just walking, not slow, not fast, just walking. When I’ve been walking the whole bridge and continue uphill I realise that I probably need to repeat it again, that this is a gift of love to myself.
Gift, gift, gift, gift, gift, gift, gift!
What if I instead was walking this walk for someone else, if I was helping someone to walk from my island to the city, then this walk would be a pleasure the whole way.
I wouldn’t hesitate or have any problems at all doing it …… for almost anyone. Just very hard to do it for myself.
As if it’s not really necessary, that it’s good enough anyway, why the need to walk as well?
I can feel the difference between the two in my body. The positive energy that comes from helping someone compared to the stubborn refusal, the negative slow, replacing that energy when switching and replacing, anyone with myself.
I decide to stop thinking and continue walking as meditation. Looking far ahead on the pavement stripes and patterns, without thinking directly of them, just enough awareness to be able to continue walking straight on. Breathing in and out and after a while I let out a monotonous low tone at each exhalation. It helps me to not focus on anything other than to move forward. Quite relaxing. I come to a rather complicated intersection and after that it’s difficult to return to the same monotone walking.
I’m finally in town and it feels perfectly OK to have been walking the whole way. I’ve done it quite often before so I’m not surprised. I still buy myself a new bus pass so I don’t get angry about having to walk again but instead can keep on walking anytime because I want to.
How easy it is to fool defiance!
This weeks art submission geeked me, I think as oposed to me geeking it. I wandered the craft aisles looking at sketch pads, canvas, yarn and craft paper , and I – just wasnt inspired. With all the preperation and space devoted to the book and the pending travels very soon to cali, the releasing of one space to create another, the reinvention, creation, the flying, the nesting, the letting go, the creativity meter was running low or so I thought until it hit me – Manga, I was going to create manga. Cooking after a long day or just on a long day often inspires me. I see it too as a space for art where our creativity meets with our inventiveness and all of the spices, seasonings, mediums to work with but instead of acrylic or oil pastel its tofu and broccoli, chick pea and pita. The possibilities are endless so I spent an afternoon shopping for local digs and harvesting my finds in the kitchen to create this – Manga! Fresh tomatos with balsalmic oil and seasonings, olives, dried apricots, wine, fresh bread and Sunday afternoon Pasta. To share with the family and note that it is all Vegan – yes, can you believe it?
I title this submission:
“The Art of Manga'”
The Mushroom Meat
The Art of Manga
I, for luck on my impending San Francisco move / adventure spectacular spectacular – paired it with this bottle of “Bohemian Highway” Claifornia Merlot
and after a few glasses of this in between sparkling italian’ lemon water I was finally inspired to write that poem – which goes as follows
She strolled in through the gates of vienna
turning, just past the fountain
her bicycle tracks pressed deeply into the dirt
as her skirt rose on the wind
gliding through the space
freely like the flowers there playing in the grass
the sky – so blue
a blue that echos
she with finger extended pressed back twice
to ring the bell
a signal that her basket was full
with wine, and bread
dried apricots and perrier
she rang ahead to her love
whom she knew was waiting
by the tree on this day
in that meadow
she rang the bell for love,
for the family that he was,
for the stars and the moon and the wine juice
for the streams and the rivers
and the manga
And so you see, this weeks art submission – geeked all over me – Happy Sunday! – Manga
I have returned from vacation relaxed, refreshed, and renewed. A week spent on Thompson Lake in Oxford, Maine was just what I needed to recharge my batteries, as it were. The lake house is a rustic camp, free of most of the trappings of modern-day America. To name a few of the trappings that were missing: cable television, and cell phone/Internet service. Suffice it to say, the three of us (me, my husband Ron, and our friend Mo) were able to return to a simpler time…
We played lots of Cribbage, Rummy, Constellation, took photos, watched marathon sessions of television on DVD, and just RELAXED. It was a nice change of pace from a typical ‘sightseeing’ vacation where it’s gogogogogogogo until you finally arrive home, exhausted and ready for another vacation.
These photos were taken this week on Thompson Lake with my Droid. I’ve been so happy with the photo quality that my nice Kodak digital camera never left its case, or, for that matter, my luggage.
I have a ton, literally around 500, weird random drawings and recently (a couple of months ago) I created a title for them: The Back Rooms of My Mind. A series of everything crazy, creepy, and uniquely good! A series where I can place all the art I create, that doesn’t or never had a place.
Well, here is another one. Door 14711.
There are a lot of doors in my mind, I hope I have time to view them all!