my fair city

from a sunday stroll along the river walk... 

earnest

fisher bros 

weathered and wonderful 

left behind by man, transformed into art by nature

little me

"Very early, I knew that the only object in life was to grow." 

quote by Margaret Fuller 

school photo circa 1977 or 1978? 

This is one of my favorite pictures of myself. I mean, come on, right? Look at the homemade 70's blouse and romper. It appears that I am now a classic. Vintage. I was there. I wore it. I am that old. Incredibly, I actually lived in The Goonies house when that picture was taken. Pre-Goonies, of course. Before Mount St. Helens blew. When people still had 8-tracks in their rigs.

That little girl loved Tanya Tucker, her cat Buttercup, Barbies, Tiger Beat, S&H Green Stamps, dolphins, salamanders. found treasures and old things. and oh, what was his name?  The teen heart throb of the moment. I had a poster on my wall. Darn. Well, that happens. It'll come to me....

.... and I also remember that same little girl did a mean Mae West imitation. And she wanted to play the guitar, maybe even be a rock star. But definitely she wanted to be a designer.

Am I really so different today? Changing little details, I am her. And she is me. So, my "older tribe" status is still hard for me to entirely grasp because what "they" say is often true: mostly, you just don't feel any older on the inside than you did 10, even 20 years ago. Lately I've been thinking back over my life and asking myself (especially after conversations with much younger women) what would I tell my 15 year old self? Or my 7 year old self?

In my collection of quotes I found this and above all, 

this is what I would want this little girl to know: 

"Once you accept the fact that you are not perfect, 

then you develop some confidence." 

quoting Rosalyn Carter 

And I would also have to tell her that she's beautiful. 

And someday she'll think that outfit is really cool. 

It may take upwards of 30 years. But it will happen. 

And I would tell her that life isn't perfect either. 

But it is full of perfect moments. 

What would you tell "little you"? 

books... by their cover

I see out there in the blogosphere that it's "book week"... makes sense to me: autumn, nesting, cozying up to a good book and a fire in the wood stove. And I have been doing my share of nesting. But I have to tell you the truth, I haven't been reading any books lately. Reading on the computer, yes, reading magazines, yes. But I've been collecting books, from thrift stores, garage sales and friends, for a long, long time. They are treasured possessions.

And I am definitely known to buy a book solely for it's cover.

So, here's a few of the books that I have not been reading....

circa 1948

circa 1939

circa 1938, signed 1st edition 

circa 1956

circa 1949

Aren't they wonderful?

buntings, bibs and bears

And on a lighter, sweeter note today... 

Some of my summer days were spent sewing. Yes, I made friends with the machine again. I somehow found myself in a two week fit of producing buntings and bibs. Baby showers can inspire such frivolity.

reversible baby boy bibs

I found the (easy breezy!) pattern for the bibs here at Prudent Baby. 

And a nice little summer shot of the buntings, bibs and this charming bear displayed on my wood stove. The bear, or model's name, if you will, is Ashley. Please note that she has a friend, the kitty. A treasured gift, I've had Ashley & friend for years, like almost 20 (omg). Ashley & friend were made by artist Mary Holstad who, I found out, compliments of Google, still produces today. What I remember loving about this series of bears is that I was told that each bear has it's own kitty because the artist moved a lot as a child and was never able to have her own kitty... as an only child, who also moved a lot, that touched me.

bibs, buntings and bears

The buntings (and some outdoor lights) also added a festive touch at our camp site. Next time I'll bring at least triple. I spent a lot of time just coloring with crayons. Sigh...

Lots of great memories were made here, a homey outdoor getaway established in 1936 by a woman serving food to fishermen and hunters and apparently developed by FDR as part of the New Deal. He even stayed there himself, as legend goes. Cabin #1. I asked at the general store about pictures from the 30's, 40's and 50's... but no such luck. One waitress has been there 29 years and "knows a lot" but we were visiting in late September and the restaurant had closed for the season. I imagine the photos I would be looking for are only to be found in the albums of families who have enjoyed the retreat for the last 3 generations.

Oh, and did I mention we had no cell service in the area at all?
How dreamy.

And wow, the pelicans and cranes,
owls screeching at night,
... and farther in the background, the coyotes.

It's an amazing place. I recommend clicking that link above if your curiosity hasn't gotten to you yet.

Our dogs learned to swim.
And despite great efforts, they didn't catch a single chipmunk.

Fish were caught, and all let go, except for the one, who was filleted, cooked in foil over the camp fire with butter and onions and devoured.

A Yahtzee Champ prevailed. A trophy was given.

Thoughtful talks about life, love, loss and laughter around the campfire were savored.

The lake was fished, swimmed in, floated on and hiked around.

3 camp photos courtesy the hubster. 

Master smores skills were developed- yes, I said Master level smores skills, we challenge anyone to an official smore-off!

A great time was had by all and the happy memories will live on....

art and life, then and now

"Everyone has talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the talent to the dark place where it leads." 

quote by Erica Jong 

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

What do you think of when you see this image? 

At this stage of my life (thankfully) I no longer believe that talent is necessitated by suffering... it is indeed possible to be wildly creative and, yes, happy. I once believed otherwise.... but I now know that suffering is the human condition; in no way reserved for just artists and misfits.

For me, there is a release in this, a freedom-- no need to fear the dark places our talent may lead us. We are headed there anyway... willingly or otherwise, such is life.

So, I will laugh. I will create. I will mourn. And I will be happy.

But, like authentic blues singers, the ones who have seen the darkest shades of blue can sing it like no other. The piece above, done by my father, reminds me of the dark places his talent led him, symbolizing for me, a chaos of the mind. Dark? Yes. And beautiful, still.

"Each day comes bearing it's gifts. Untie the ribbon."
 quoting Ruth Ann Schabacker

on hitting the road...

"the road was new to me, as roads always are, going back"      

 ... quoting Sarah Orne Jewett 

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

on collecting...

I have several "collections"...

Small pitchers or creamers (I would share a photo but they currently reside in a cupboard- in our last, roomier home they had their own proper - albeit dusty- shelf).

Vintage ceramic and glassware, resting comfortably in a beautiful french hutch (and would make another lovely blog picture, I am sure).

Art, piles and stacks of art (to fill way more than my own home).

Vintage linens (in a heap, waiting to be laundered).

Barbies. Yes, lots of Barbies (sadly, stacked neatly in a closet). It's the little girl in me and Barbies always make me smile.

But one of my very favorite collections (all fitting nicely in one little shoebox) is the pile of hundreds of quotes that have moved or inspired (or even just made me laugh) that I've collected over the last 25 years... this collection is one that actually makes a real, measurable difference in my life. I call on those quotes-- to just get me through life on some days, and, on other days, to help me make the most of life. These quotes, becoming my own personalized book of inspiration, remind me of the beautiful and amazing fact that I have the ability to control my mind and focus my thoughts in the direction of my own choosing.

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved.

.... quoting Geothe--- "Nothing is worth more than this day". 

and according to Ralph Waldo Emerson--- 

"Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind". 

Simple as that. 

as we remember him...

Richard Holmes Dawson 

September 12, 1948 - September 12, 2001 

Life is complicated and brief. Love is simple and eternal. 

his legacy, my honor...

When someone you love so enormously leaves you suddenly and unexpectedly, it is a complete shock to the system. No time for those last goodbyes, to say the things you would have wanted to say, to ask the questions you wanted to ask.... and for me, the result was that everything he left behind became incredibly precious to me.

But beauty is in the eye of the beholder- as they say, and as such, I've never felt as though I was able to see his art with an objective eye. To me it is amazing, powerful and beautiful. After all, it is my father's legacy. And now, today, experiencing others experiencing his art is so powerful and truly just blows me away...

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

I imagine this little painting is based upon his travels in France, Italy and Switzerland... it reminds me of a painting called "vision of Toledo" that he sent me for my 30th birthday, just a couple of years before he died. I am grateful and honored to be the caretaker of his legacy... and I take great refuge and solace in the images he left behind.

A thank you card to Blogger

Before my father unexpectedly passed away, almost nine years ago, he mentioned to someone that he imagined his art would end up in a dumpster after he was gone. His life's work. His life's passion. As his only child, I could never let that happen. With the help of his dear friends in North Carolina, we were able to ship the lion's share of his work out to me in Oregon. It was many, many boxes and took months to complete. 

I have often wondered how I will share his work and honor his memory.... but wonder no more. 

Thank you, Blogger. 

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

Self-taught and shy of his talents, his art was presented mostly as gifts to friends and family. Over time, I will continue to post his works and honor his memory here with that hope that someone may be moved by what he left behind.... 

labor day laborer

As a general rule, I try to avoid any labor on Labor Day. 

But today, duty calls.... so hi-ho, hi-ho, off to work I go.

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

little boy blue

Original art by Richard H. Dawson, all rights reserved. 

I'll admit it, some days I can really relate to this little boy.

But that's part of the beauty of life... without suffering, how would we measure joy?

In the moments when I feel lost, unsure or scared, as I reach for solace, I always find joy.

Star of the Sea Rummage Sale

Yes, people are still talking about the

Star of the Sea Rummage Sale!

The annual event, held in the catholic school gym, just concluded with "free day" last Friday and I went no less than 5 times in 4 days. I must begin by saying that the volunteer ladies who run the sale are vintage classics themselves. Completely adorable. Above is just a small portion of my finds.... my favorites: the Peterboro picnic basket, two absolutely perfect vintage rattan lamp shades, silver iced tea spoons (this score triples my tiny collection!), loads of vintage sheets and linens, two super fab homemade vintage housewife dresses, vintage patterns, a vintage ice bucket and soooo much more.

I probably spent, all told, $25 in my 4 day rummage spree. But even better than the deals, it just got me jazzed. Downright giddy. I actually left the house early before work (unheard of) to get in line on the first $2 bag day! This will be an official annual event in my life and is just a delicious slice of small town goodness.

That lil' bit of treasure-seeking adrenaline created a small creative storm of which we shall see the fruits of soon... because this beautiful machine below and I have once again, made friends after a somewhat lengthy fall-out.

fits & starts... so true in so many areas of my life and happily I'm in the midst of a sewing fit!

a sweet holiday weekend

The long weekend was as sweet

as this Oregon strawberry...

strawberry muffins and skillet jam were made

long walks with the husband and dogs were enjoyed

fireworks over the river were witnessed...

and a new annual tradition was born:

St. Mary's Star of the Sea Rummage Sale, oh my....

But more to come on that.

her inspiration

Original art by Richard H. Dawson. All rights reserved. 

This image is the complete view of my current profile picture, a mixed media done by my father, Richard H. Dawson (1948-2001), titled "her inspiration", one of literally hundreds of works of art that came to be mine upon his passing. I adore this painting and in sadder times, her image has brought me much comfort. The simplicity, use of color, graphic boldness, the sadness in her eyes and background text all draw me in...

One great thing about being 41 now is that I have those fantastic 70's shots in my collection... and this is one of only 2 photographs I have of my father and I while I was a child. The only other photo I have with my father was taken when I was 12 or 13. The photo shown here was taken in Eugene, Oregon, likely in about '72 or '73. The home, on 13th street, near the University of Oregon campus has long since been torn down. As my only memory of a childhood visit with my father, what always sticks out in my mind is that he seemed SO tall to me, and as basically a stranger to him, I was indeed both excited to spend some time with him but also a bit scared. So, imagine then how that little girl felt when she walked into the house and the original version of Frankenstein was playing on TV! And throw in the fact that he had Great Dane at the time!! See, that's the thing about my dad though: he always made a big impression on all who came in contact with him and it certainly was no different for me. As a pre-teen I began the slow process of getting to know him and over the years we became very close. He always told me, as a young woman, that I was "his greatest masterpiece" yet he was also always careful to never take credit for how I turned out, acknowledging he hadn't been the father I needed. We loved each other very much and losing him is still, nine years later, a shock to my system.

On a lighter note... this blog was inspired in part by an apple a day, one of my very favorite blogs. The day I found her blog a good couple hours suddenly disappeared while reading her archives and I always eagerly anticipate her future posts. For one, she loves old things at least as much as I do. She shares about her family, their country home, treasure hunting, her creative work. There is a simple, sensitive and somehow raw sensibility to her photography and writing style...

before & after

From average run-of-the-mill framed corkboard to beautiful, stylish,

one-of-a-kind custom idea board!

The picture doesn't do it much justice however.

I needed a start-to-finish afternoon project to get lost in for awhile... but I wanted the sense of accomplishment that comes from fully completing a project in a short spell. I didn't need a mess on my hands for days on end, right? So, after hmmming and hawing for the last few weeks about how to treat this corkboard I just decided to act.

I painted the frame a white wash (using acryclic paint from my art supplies) and used samples from a wallpaper book that I patchworked to create sections and texture using photo mount. I was determined to keep it super simple and didn't even trim one piece of the scrap wallpaper. I just layered where I needed to.

I added the vintage ribbon frame along the inside of the wood frame and finished the corners with upholstery tacks. The teal blue ribbon detail is velvet, edged with a tiny white lace. The lace doily was a gift from a dear friend, pinned to the board with a sewing pin.

Oh, and I must include thanks to my studio assistant, Bailey.

I love creating something entirely new and wonderful using only what I have on hand. Free is a very good price. Now I just need to put some ideas on the board!

love thy neighbor

The sweet (shall we say) "older" couple across the street have lived in their home for 38 years. Theirs was the first home built in this newer neighborhood of a very historic town. So, imagine my delight when I saw their garage sale sign last weekend. Old folks! Lived in the same home for almost 40 years! Garage sale! SCORE! Problem being, it's Saturday and the sale actually started on Friday- I saw the sign on my way to work on Friday (huge disappointment- what did I miss? I'll never know) and on this Saturday morning I have just $3 in the wallet. Darn it. Double darn it. But I grab my $3 and head on over just as it opens at 10am, unshowered, no makeup, hair not even yet brushed, in my not-at-all cute sweats, sacrificing vanity and pride for the hope of good score. Pretty much everything was just a quarter! Yep, twenty five cents. YAY! Now, understand that I need to have a garage sale myself so I am judicious about bringing more "stuff" home (until I start doing etsy and/or ebay) but here's what I spent my money on: 5 pillowcases, one twin sheet and a nice leather belt. The pillowcases and sheet will be used for some future sewing projects yet to be determined. The belt, added to the collection. I know, this wasn't the greatest score ever, but it was the my first garage sale of the 2010 season and I felt satisfied.

infancy of a blog...

It's been almost a month since I started my blog and I already have that bloggers guilt of "oh, I haven't blogged in two weeks now!". I only have 5 posts in my first month! Bad Blogger!

Which is pretty irrational and somewhat hysterical considering I have only given my blog's address to one single solitary person (are you there, my friend?). But it raises the questions that other bloggers before me have had to answer for themselves. Why blog? For whom? When and how do I put myself "out there" as a new blogger? Why would anyone even care to read my blog? How often would I like to be blogging? And how often will I actually blog?

For myself I think the answers will come in time.... and I can answer the first two questions with one easy answer: I am blogging for my own inspiration. So for right now, the answers to the other questions are largely irrelevant. There are no rules here. I will blog however often I blog. I didn't start blogging to add another "chore" to my to-do list. Or to add something to my "worry list". Worrying and being inspired are mutually exclusive in my world. I trust that I will put myself "out there" to other bloggers in my own time, in my own way....

But today, I feel like an infant in this world... a little baby blogger just getting her sense of herself in this new blogging world.... learning to crawl before walking.

from tired to inspired

Let's be honest, some weeks are more interesting than others. This past week, frankly, left me tired and uninspired. I choose to blame the stretch of insomnia I've been struggling with, but I know that some weeks are just like that. Tired and uninspired.

What always inspires me and lifts my spirits though is collecting vintage treasures and I have been searching high and low in thrift and antique stores for charming vintage jars to serve as spice jars. I stumbled upon this set of 15 pre-war jars quite some time ago and love love love them. I had no idea then how difficult it is to find vintage jars with their original lids so I am ever more grateful that I bought each and every one. Problem is, I need about 15 more in varying sizes to fill this fantastic antique shelf that *will* be morphed from super cluttered yet functional spice shelf to super cute and functional spice shelf. The shelf sits in our dining room just around the corner from the stove so "super cute" would be super cool.

The question remains... do I spray paint the lids to create a cleaner, more uniform look or do I leave the rusty lids in original condition? I figure at this point, safety isn't a concern- I mean what is unhealthier flaking off into your herbs and spices- rust or spray paint??? Seems like a toss-up to me. So, stay tuned: one happy and very inspired day we'll revisit the spice shelf with the complete "before and after" makeover. In the meantime, the search continues for more vintage glass jars. Until then, super cluttered yet functional will have to suffice.

legend of the four leaf clover

It was 3 years ago this week that my husband and I fell in love.

On our first date, just a few days following St. Patrick's Day, at a table overlooking the Columbia River, we learned that we had shared an important mentor in our high school years. His name was Jack Ryan, a true Irishman who left an unforgettable impression on all who were lucky enough to know him. Jack had been my guidance counselor and was my husband's baseball coach. My husband is 10 years older than I am (well, he'd say 9 and a half) and we went to entirely different schools. Each of us still had the article that had run in the paper upon Jack's passing. Imagine that. For more than 20 years, two people, now sitting at a table together having just recently met, had treasured the same newspaper article and kept it through countless moves and changes in life.

Just a few days before our fateful first date, while he was traveling in California, my husband had purchased a money clip that had a gold four leaf clover tucked inside an upside-down horseshoe. As we sat at the table, giddy with first date jitters and still amazed that we shared this very uncommon man in common, he showed me his new money clip and we toasted Jack Ryan. I told him then that I had been thinking lately that perhaps a four leaf clover may be my next tattoo.

Immediately after we had said goodnight for the evening at the front door of my apartment, I walked directly into my dressing room and picked up the four leaf clover card that I had received when my father passed away more than six years earlier. It had been sitting on a shelf since then and I always treasured it but I had never once thought to flip it over and see what was on the back side of the card. Imagine my shock when I did flip it over and see.... "enables young ladies to discover the man they will marry".... Filled with both excitement and a very nervous but happy fear, I began to recognize that larger forces were at work and that we had truly been blessed by the "Luck of the Irish". It wasn't a week later that my husband had proposed to me.

May the lucky clover bring you health, wealth and happiness all the days of the year!

a love affair with Astoria

I love my small town. Astoria made it's first impression on me as a young girl when I lived here briefly in my early grade school years. I was captivated by the "old-ness" of Astoria-- abandoned buildings once known to house fur-trading operations, beautiful Victorian homes in various stages of disrepair and restoration, steep streets with hidden pathways and public stairwells, stories of settlers and pioneers... and so, as a 30-something woman I returned for a visit to see what was becoming of modern-day Astoria. I left that 4 day visit with- surprisingly, a job. A couple of weeks later, I had packed up my Portland apartment, my dog and my cat in a U-Haul, hit Highway 30, and thus began my grown-up adventure in the small town that still fascinates and delights me. Six years later, I can't imagine living anywhere else.

Astoria was once a sleepy working class town largely defined by fishing, canneries and logging and as those industries began to change, so Astoria has been challenged to change. Which was exactly what had inspired my visit six years ago-- was Astoria honoring and preserving it's rich history, architecturally and otherwise? Today, I proudly consider myself part of Astoria's renaissance. I am one of many who have lived other places-- more "sophisticated" places, places with more "opportunity"-- yet have chosen this small, vibrant, dynamic, artistic community to make home. There are countless businesses, organizations and people who have and are making Astoria special, preserving it's history, and who are taking part in creating a new definition of Astoria... over time I will be compelled to share as many of them as I am able.

Before the Astoria-Megler bridge was built, the residents of the Washington peninsula and Astoria relied on a ferry to shuttle them across the mighty Columbia River. This was especially vital to residents of the peninsula as it was a quite isolated area with limited resources and services. At the foot of 14th Street in downtown Astoria were the ferry docks and many travelers took refuge in a hotel that operated on 14th Street, just a half block from the docks, from 1925 until it's sudden closure in 1965. After more than 40 years of being sealed up, ignored and forgotten, the old hotel is now given new life as Commodore Hotel Astoria. Reinvented as an affordable and stylish traveler's hotel featuring european style rooms as well as suites, the hotel draws design inspiration from the Columbia River and it's historic Astoria roots-- maintaining vintage integrity while infusing a hip modern and minimalist vibe. If you are lucky enough to visit Astoria, it's well worth a stay.

have a flirty friday!

I just adore this vintage postcard. One of my prized possessions. It came to me through my father's eclectic collection of memorabilia which became mine upon his passing. Every time I look at it, it makes me smile. The beautiful buxom blonde, the sight seeing guide, the observant gentleman, the message that "You will see some of the greatest sights of your life on this trip" reminding me of the richness of my own life experiences and the wonderful sights I have seen.

It doesn't have a copyright or print date on it but calls for a one cent postage stamp, has a divided writing area and "linen" look. I am guessing it dates from the mid-1950's (but I've only had one cup of coffee this morning). Here you can find all sorts of great information on dating antique and vintage postcards!

late bloomer

I am a late bloomer... to the land of blogging, and admittedly in some aspects of my life. I read my first blog, oh, maybe a bit more than a year ago. I married at the age of 38. But here I am now! Blogging. Married. And I'm happy to be here. The truth is, I am just not a "computer person" but I found myself so inspired by the first blog I read (thank you Amy at angry chicken) that I began seeking out other blogs... one blog lead me to another and then another. Whether I am able to inspire someone else over time remains to be seen... but I feel confident that blogging will, at the very least, inspire me. I intend to share bits and pieces of my life here... my love of Astoria, thrifting, antique and vintage treasures, taking pictures, art, sewing, cooking... It is my hope that someday someone will stumble accidentally upon my blog and find something that makes them smile, or think, or do-- as the bloggers I follow have done for me.