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