Saturday, September 25, 2010

While Dancing the Racoon!

Drippy, white stuff has pulled the alder and willow over. This afternoon heralds the oncoming locomotive called winter and we're ready... well kind of.
From An Alaskan Returns from the Hinterlands

The woodshed is full, the barn stocked snugly with alfalfa, grain and healthy animals.

The honeyman, at this very moment, is climbing Mt. Whitney with none other than our buddy John Svenson. An awesome undertaking and one that Jeff's been working toward for a couple of years.

Each of the kids are invested in very different paths, taking on adulthood with gusto and determination. Got nothing but admiration for all three and yes, I miss their company. I relish spending time together when we're able. They're fine people.

I'm finding my way towards the next volume. It includes a piano and loom, a bicycle and a camera.

Right now though a huge bowl of rhubarb and some twenty sizable zucchini are grinning at me from the counter. Time to be inventive with the canner and oven.

The woodstove is toasty and this fine little laptop is offering me the opener to the new season of A Prairie Home Companion. I've missed GK's syndicated columns, The Summer Love Tour, (enjoy the webpage) and having the chance to catch the show in person!

But, life feels wide open and the kitchen floor is made for dancing. Damned near as rich as a street dance in St. Paul tonight!

From An Alaskan Returns from the Hinterlands

OOOh, The Too Tight Rag! Perfection ... haw YEAH!

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Saturday

I didn't know!

Though my weekly fix of The Old Scout's articles must be abated by rereading the archives, rich and topical regardless of when they were published, my heart hungers for more.

To my delight, I find today that A Prairie Home Companion's show is constructed of highlights, allowing a summer break for the cast but that Garrison is broadcasting live from the studios in St. Paul.

I'm listening to North Country Public Radio from The Adirondacks at 24 kpbs. Not quite local but its a clean stream and there's my old pal.

After the show I'll return to making my puppet of Samuel Clemens as a mountain goat, for a performance at the fair. Maybe I'll take a special pause later with My Dear Sonneteer.

Life is rich.

From An Alaskan Returns from the Hinterlands

From An Alaskan Returns from the Hinterlands

From An Alaskan Returns from the Hinterlands
Shine on.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Reunion

Ever the champion
of the elegantly wise,
wrinkled, well seasoned,
I fantasized since a teen
of how quaint it would be.

How accepting I'd feel,
wonderfully odd and contrary to youth at full sail
Like an adoption into a foreign culture

Now, having become one
of the many elders at a family gathering,
where I know the opportunities
to be together are limited,

Telling the Great Old Tales
comes with a sadness

I was never good at good-byes

Friday, June 11, 2010

My darling,

It's been such a long time since I've written. These weeks of delightful movement, as the mountains shed tonnages of snow, are glorious. The melt is washing away the banks of the river: roots, alder, boulders, logs. The roiling provides such a symphony it's matched only by the sound of new leaves in the tallest cottonwoods, blowing steadily among the spruce and hemlock.

A two-thirty dawn means to try and find the spirit to stay tucked in for a few more hours. But the work of re-establishing a presence amidst the forest is huge this spring and it calls loudly and energetically. I can't resist.

This body of mine, however, is not only much older but the odd, life-long aversion to sitting, now appears to have been a response to scoliosis. Who knew?

The doctor orders dancing and bike riding in addition to my other passions of garden and trail. New shoes, (some especially fine steppers for twirling, others for pedals and bluffs), and a new bike, arrive week after next.

Also evolving is the plan to visit the Mid-west. There's a story I want to write along the way.

Pictures soon.

Love always ~

Ade

Monday, May 31, 2010

My Life ~ So Sweet, It Smells

I'm at that fortunate point in life that all I can be is grateful. Things really can't be much better. The nightmares in the world and degradation of the planet is ever present in my heart, crackling in my bones. Still, I wake up joyful.

It's partly due to the green and yellow pollen that wafts through the Klehini Valley and down the Chilkat Range in such thick plumes they might be mistaken for dust devils.

Potential growth, a biotic memory blanket is being layered thickly over the remaining snow, yellow as garlic powder. It sticks to my sweaty skin as I labor turning the garden beds in the eighty-four degree heat.

In the evening I smell like green sunlight.

Just add water
an epoch from now. I'll become
the next forest

BP and Bach by Garrison Keillor at NYTimes.com
I.H.T. Op-Ed Contributor - BP and Bach - NYTimes.com

(A special thanks to friend James for the editorial suggestions.)

Monday, April 19, 2010

The Steady, Dripping Beat of Spring

And now, the rains have come.

Yesterday, I lay out on a snowberm with Mason-dog watching the Canada Geese and Sandhill Cranes passing over head. Hoping to find a path through the cloudy mountain draw and discouraged by the dense, drippy layers, they circled back around several times providing wonderful company.

The jangling-rachety call of cranes to one another, keep their spirits aloft on the long journey while pointing out the sights below. We heard a cheer of appreciation for watching and a call to remember our wonderful time together last autumn. In many cultures, they pack the soul after death so we sent our best thoughts with them.

The hummingbird, who hitches a tail-feather ride with the larger folk, dropped off for it's first sip at my feeder yesterday. Dozens of smaller songbirds appeared by afternoon. We're all gearing up for the maniacal pace of a South East summer. The Hooligan aren't far from the Chilkat inlet and my heart and body are primed!

Looking out at the steady pour this afternoon, I'm reminded of all the wonderful paths Life's offered the last few years; ideas gestating and dreams still waiting to be acted upon. Farmstead, fiber-art, growing older with a fine mate, enjoying the escapades of our children in their adulthood's. I've the finest place on the planet and I'm rooted deeply and glad to be home.

But, there's a trip I'm preparing for ~via~ the Rails to Trails system. I'm wanting to cross the country from Oregon to Michigan, camping, cycling and using Amtrak. My folks had fun with such a trip back in the late forties and I'd love to do a follow up journey.

During such a trek, I'm wanting to spend time with the independent book sellers across the nation. Course, I plan to seek out the community festivals and street dances and enjoy fair season along the way as well.

Maybe I'll coordinate with a show or two of Garrison Keillor's Summer Love Tour on towards mid~August.

Now, I'd love to drive the sporty Ford in the picture from the tour's site, (well, in the right company, of course), but in lieu of such a chariot, I'm looking at a Kona Ute cargo bike. One jumped at me on a Fairhaven, Washington street right near the Village Book Store last month. I took it as a sign.

"A sign of what?"

Don't ask.

Yet.

From An Alaskan Returns from the Hinterlands

Monday, April 12, 2010

Large Doses of Home ~ April, 2010

From An Alaskan Returns from the Hinterlands
And it's perfection!
This first week home since November, has been about helping my fella get caught up after a very long winter. Also, scratching out a place to be privately productive; the studio!

After months of being bedside and to get back in shape, I'm digging flights of snow stairs. These ephemeral constructs of whimsy melt away in a few weeks while allowing us to get in and out of the deeply buried buildings for now. As my body moves in labor my heart and thoughts are clearing. Sweet seeing if the whole system still works in sync, (and newly grateful for ibuprofen).

I've never been good at goodbyes. I can leave or allow connections to cool, (to be honest, I'm too good at that), but I'm utterly miserable at actual goodbyes. I keep an open place in my core for everyone I've ever cared for. There's lot's of open space newly acquired.

At present, there's a hungry greenish yearn for the gal who's been my universe for so many months, (catch sister Mic's green take). I suspect that feeding this yen is a question of being encompassed by the tender care she required from us and delighting in how she retained her identity and dignity right through her last breath. It was perfection in the most imperfect of processes.

We've made interesting family connections in T.M.'s home of 62 years. These last two, she relied on us, something we'd never anticipated nor would she have ever considered necessary. Her passing was perfect irony, perfectly her; Thursa May Wolfe Revenaugh.


The suggestion of a greenish cast to the cottonwoods and willows along the riverflats hasn't happened. Though afternoons are warm, it's staying quite cold at night and the snow pack is deep. Mornings, I'm able to walk everywhere with the snowshoes tucked under my arm.

Yesterday, we forded the river and climbed to timberline.
From An Alaskan Returns from the Hinterlands
From An Alaskan Returns from the Hinterlands

I made a telephone purchase from our neighbor this morning. In a couple of weeks I'm to get sixteen, two year old hens for eggs and meat. The hen house is still a ways from usable. A marten nailed our three remaining hens a month or two ago and I want to be sure he's got larger options in the river and forest by waiting to bring the new flock home. The deep snow crunched the hen yard as well, so it's time for repairs this season.

I'm scouring the area for a baby buck Oberhasli to raise this summer. Our barn has two adult goats and two woolly ewes but our lead, Jackquie goat, needs freshening. No milk, kids or lambs this year!

That opens this summer for the barn occupants and I to focus on making trail and packing the hillsides. They're younger, stronger and far more resourceful than I and should help cut back on sore muscles and joints by packing my dictionary and camping gear once a week or so!

The garden starts have been warming by the wood stove, and ten feet under the snow is the rhubarb; coiled, crimson potency absorbing light in a deep white denizen and preparing to burst out, alive and bittersweet.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Traveling, Springbreak Style

The desert kept Merrick, Joe, Okumpup and I entertained from Mojave to The Dalles, Oregon.
Oh, the high desert!
From Alaskan In The Hinterlands
I learned of Joshua Trees and wild donkeys, horses, and Pronghorn Antelope. Even met a a feral chihuahua out forty miles from anywhere but an undeveloped hot springs near Alkali, Nevada.
From Alaskan In The Hinterlands
From Alaskan In The Hinterlands
From Alaskan In The Hinterlands
Our youngest, Hannah, met us ~via~ Amtrak and we spent a lovely time in Ridgefield, Wa. with the Bochart family. We went dancing to jazz band music from The Russets of Ridgefield High at The Oak Tree.
Grandma Mary fed us large and we visited with all of the cousins and Aunties and Uncles. When we parted, Hannah and I caught the train to Bellingham as Joe and Merrick wound their way that direction in the pickup.

After a week of packing about and visiting B-town friends, (plus Hannah's favorite haunts), we girls are off to the big city of Seattle to hook up with cousin Merry Lee and have a weekend of living large including ~ A Prairie Home Companion at The Paramount Saturday March 27th.
From Alaskan In The Hinterlands
From Alaskan In The Hinterlands


A happy 55th Birthday to our Poppaman! Wish you were here with us darling! Micah too!

Monday, March 15, 2010

The Ides of March ~ the darkside!

It's the sweet darkside of the moon, rich with possibility.

It's now one full turn since our Mom, Thursa Revenaugh, stepped over the last twitchit of her life. A tremendous presence lingers, larger than when she was in her prime.She's evident everywhere I look. Every little kid's spark of mischief, each turn of random assistance from the cosmos, each grand-kid who walks through the door.

The collected essence of place and the accumulation of thought and experience in a given life. Even when that collection has been disseminated beyond its original location the memories speak loudly.

This month, I'm learning about Mary Elizabeth Colter, a lady architectural pioneer who hailed from St. Paul, Minn., her choice of hometown.

Colter took her love of the landscape and indigenous people of SW North America and created stunning buildings and interior design reflecting that love. At a time when architectural design was generally modeled on European styles, this uncommon woman turned the tide.

I spent yesterday at the L.A. Union Railroad Station where her work from the late 1930's still shines. The lunchroom, no longer in service will hopefully be turned into a historical monument. It's stunningly classic flavor incorporates traditional SW colors and building material and natural use of light.

Though she died in 1958 at the age of eighty-eight, she's quite alive at Grand Canyon in the buildings there crafted of rock and wood.
From Alaskan In The Hinterlands

I'll be writing more on this topic of place after I've returned to 39 mile. My kids have driven to Grandma's to help haul me home to Alaska.

I leave Bakersfield and my time spent caring for Mom by offering this fine Writer's Almanac entry from March 15, 2010. The poem Fields by Faith Shearin reflect my thoughts today.

Ade


Tuesday, March 2, 2010

A Room of One's Own ~

From Alaskan In The Hinterlands

Something fine and kind resonates here that everyone feels.

There was plenty of room for all in this tiny, crowded house. Room for friends and strangers who became friends. Family, both nuclear and satellite.

Even when the place was brimming with the kind of unwashed frustration or hardship that left its occupants drained, nearly broken, others found those realities uniquely vibrant and wanted to be near. A part of it in some way.

They keep coming back, sorry now, that its mistress is gone. Proud to have known her.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Be Well, Our Beauty

Took you a while to let it go, Ma.

We thought you'd let it go a long time ago.

Damned, were we wrong!

Glad you are on your way.

We're cheering for you.

Keep us posted.

All of us!

Loving you,

Your kids.

From On Her Way

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Snow ~ Heavy snow or mud?

The wind wasn't the only issue. It was the wet snow that stuck to the windshield in great, sticky, clumps requiring stopping every ten miles, getting out and slapping the wipers in a futile attempt to clear them enough to wipe.

"Flakes as big as Rhode Island, and only out here. It's like someone flipped a switch at Ten Mile. It's total Pig slop!"

The brood was hunkered into the back seats of the Ford Econoline. Each had enough space to be comfortable, as if cozied in private staterooms. The girls were sleeping and Lance was busy conjuring characters for his ongoing saga.

"Pull over and I'll clear the beggers. See if we can get a fresh start."

"Nah, we just did that fifteen minutes ago."

"Well, yes, but you're down to three square inches of visibility."

"I'm fine. As long as that guy ahead of me with one tail-light stays on the right side of the highway."

Warm snow. It was a coastal regularity measuring in double digit dumps. Add a little wind and the drifts calculated in feet.

The road ahead was two narrow trenches. The single red lens was mesmerizing. The sensation, that if you let your eyes drift, you'd suddenly know oblivion. Or the guy's rear end!

Tess knew better. If the lit dot disappeared, they'd shift into hyper vision and feel calmer, feel the direction that was home. The van could probably take them without any one at the wheel, it was so familiar with the route.

Dray ejected the tape of flashbacks and fresh tracks, barely audible above the working engine plowing through the white cement. Better to focus.

Dinner in town with friends had been a joy. The sizable stock-up on groceries and four jerry jugs of fresh water rounded out the effort of getting to town.
They left the gathering early. Snow had begun to come down with that certain intensity.

He was right. It started light and sparkly, perfectly individual stars catching light and adding that special mid-winter touch to the streets and holiday decorations.

Ten miles later and falling from an endlessly unfathomable source, the quantity of white was the Pacific Ocean in the sky and their small craft was heading away from shore.

~

Saturday, February 6, 2010

We've termed it, 'the dwindles', that steady, natural decline of everything you once were. All of it, wrapped carefully in bundles throughout the house, in albums and shoe boxes, tucked away like Easter baskets, waiting to be discovered by whomever is the last to come by.

And here you lie, wondering if all you've held to be right and valid about life is going to see you out the other side. No weeping or regret, all of that tended to with enough time and consideration to be useful to you now.

We've made you as comfortable as we're able, while we sit comfortably near, happy just to be in your presence. And happily, you're enjoying ours.

~
And Ma, it's snowing ~ like when you were a kid in Calumet; many, many inches. Coming down in bundling drifts. Rooftop and tree crushing drifts. Airport halting, highway clogging drifts.

You never liked snow.

I love it.

Hope Micah made his flight to Viet Nam.

Post Groundhog's Day storm, causing awe and wonder along the Mid-Atlantic.

'Snowmageddon' blankets Mid-Atlantic in heavy snow

Heavyweight slides in burned out Southern California are waking us up too.

California Storm Triggers Mudslides, Flooding

Posted using ShareThis

Saturday, January 9, 2010

200 Rush Tickets Left for Prairie Home Companion & Sister Mick's nailed two ahead!

Joe Biden said it best this week at the Huffington Post in a fine article about Why America Needs Trains .

My words: trains are a reliable and progressive system.
Rail transportation of goods and people are well worth spending plenty of money on rebuilding all across America. We need the jobs and less roads. It's that simple.

This year, I've loved schlepping up and down the coast to San Francisco, Portland, Seattle and Bellingham from Bakersfield ~via~ Amtrak. Its affordable travel that offers a great opportunity for engaging with people from all over, and - well, these days ... my time is affordable ~ passing by opportunities is not!

It works something like this: the S.F. International Airport is an easy connection for flying out to Juneau. From there I catch an Alaska Marine Highway ferry home to Haines, a little fjord edged berg that nestles in the northern end of Lynn Canal.

In June '09, I slipped away from caring for our Elder Ma in S. Cal. For a treat, I caught Amtrak up to San Francisco to catch Garrison Keillor. He gave an evening reading from his fine collection of 77 Sonnets .

As G.K couldn't join me afterwords, (my article)I went solo for what turned out to be a wonderful all-nighter of walking around the city, talking to strangers and visiting old familiar neighborhoods.

I was an adventurer as a kid. I traveled then by hitch-hiking. I hopped freight trains with a pal and caught the ever reliable Greyhound bus when I could afford it.

All to give me access to geographic and musical discovery.

In San Francisco the Palace of Fine Arts housed the Battle of The Bands in 1968. There were free concerts that summer in Golden Gate Park with The Dead and Quicksilver, Big Brother and The Jefferson Airplane.

A few months later, Jimi Hendrix stunned Bakersfield with an incredible performance at The Memorial Auditorium, (oh, those expensive eight dollar tickets!).

I found my barefooted way to the Newport Pop Festival at Devonshire Downs in '69.

The last performance I attended while still in Bakersfield was with the live-wire R&B man, Elvin Bishop, performing with full-on accompaniment at Bakersfield College in 1971.

For a year after I graduated from BHS, I criss-crossed the country, learning what I could, absorbing it all.

When I returned to the left coast, I decided to move to San Francisco. Newspaperman, Dick (Poppa) Revenaugh, had established half-a-dozen salon-like residences while learning all that was cooking in the Bay area.

The Fillmore District held his favorite music haunts. He was a regular at Minnie's Can-Do, the heart of the neighborhood at that time.

When I was in tow with my first roommate, actress Atoinette Attell ~ Toad, I caught a few shows at the old Winterland. North Beach and the Haight were always lively nights out. That year, I was a personal schlepper for Toad's live street performances at Ghirardelli Square and as a willing shill at the various comedy clubs of the day where she performed.

Though these were exciting and heady times for an 18 year old with a false ID, the ultra hip scene in San Francisco never quite jived for me. I could have stayed forever in The Fillmore of that era but I wanted out of the city.

When I figured that part out in 1974, I bee-lined for the forest and the small entertainment venues of S.E. Alaska. Talk about finding heady times!

In Ketchikan, I helped manage a warehouse type tavern, The Thunderbird Lounge.
Many of the seine fisherman and the pulp mill pipe-fitters who loved the joint were from St. Paul and elsewhere in Minnesota. The bar was down below the first home of public radio in Ketchikan, station KRBD.

The Minnesota boys spent Saturday afternoon shoretime introducing the west coast transplants to schnapps with beer chasers. Ever taller tales and their favorite home-town boy, Garrison Keillor gave them special distinction.

As part of a concert series, I helped with an effort to bring John Fahey to The T-Bird. Though the fellow arrived in town sorely sotted, and remained so throughout his stay, his musicianship was magnificent.

John Hammond and a collection of other fine musicians were to follow. Nights at the Thunderbird lounge were focused toward live performance and local poetry reading.

Saturday Night Live was also a hot commodity and played from a high-tech overhead Beta Max. There was chess and conversation. Writing groups and popcorn. Cafe/tavern style camaraderie and fooseball.



On a focused chase toward family, I wanted to be farther north still. Homesteading over the last twenty-five years, has been perfect. For income, my solid partner taught at Mosquito Lake Elementary and Klukwan School.

At 39 miles north of Haines, our lives revolved around home-school, snow shoeing and growing critters and gardens. Basically, living scantily in a large manner. And, did I say, a lot of snow?

We became highway warriors during the kid's high school years, a time that married nicely with the whole family being busily involved with community, both in Klukwan Indian Village and Haines.

The SE Alaska State Fair and the Bald Eagle Music Festival continue to bring us a week of saturation level fun in Haines. Just right for my tastes once a year.

This next week, I'll be coming up from Bakersfield on an Elder Mom-care-haitus. I'm about to hit Amtrak again and SF for a Jan. 16, 2010 performance of a Prairie Home Companion with special guests, Elvin Bishop and Jean Redpath at the War Memorial Opera House.

From the PHC website: The War Memorial Opera House is a palace that opened in 1932, a granite and terra cotta beauty, with high windows with keystones with lion's head carved into them, lions with sharp teeth. Across a courtyard surrounded by a cast iron fence is the San Francisco War Memorial, a courtyard that is medieval looking with trimmed hedges and knobby old trees. The War Memorial Building is where the United Nations charter was signed in 1945, and also the peace treaty with Japan after World War II.."

I'm in! The last time I caught Elvin Bishop, he had our community dancing through the night, without a break at the S.E.Ak. State Fair. He helped to deliver us to a 1:30 AM summer dawn in his fine, driving style.

Jean Redpath belongs in Haines. She'll see. We have a fine traditional folk community in S.E. Alaska, alive and well, adopting younger musicians who are choosing to stay to raise their families.

Gotta confess, I'm hoping to lure the whole group up onto our performance circuit.
G. Keillor might find he'd enjoy setting up a seasonal camp there. Perhaps then he'll help me to convince the others.

We'll be sure to include Bakersfield's Banshee in The Kitchen. Banshee, Jill Egland, has already expressed interest in our seasonal fair and music festivals.

Here's to outstanding, live, music performances on into the future.

Only 200 rush tickets available at the door?

Well, I've got the Amtrak tickets in hand.

And this just in,... Sister Mick got two tickets for the show!
I ask you, what kind of magic is that gal not capable of?!

The show was Fine. Find the story ~ In The Doon ~ a connection is above

Monday, December 21, 2009

Trucking

~
Merrick & Okum

From Alaskan In The Hinterlands

It's not a large Radio Flyer.
In fact, it didn't hold my brother and I comfortably at all. I'm smaller by five years so I sit up front under the handle. His legs are balanced dangerously on the thick rims so he can use his heels as breaks. I'm suppose to help steer, though really my dimpled hands are just keeping warm under his and he likes the job of steering. We're in a high speed race car hitting the barely-paved slope, low to the ground, crunching gravel louder than a logging truck. I mean, we're fast!

Now. The wagon I pull in my dream is filled with precious things, stacked high and tight. I'm trucking it along the side of a mountain road this late, purple evening. The occasional headlights of on-coming cars don't know what to do with me, high beams or low. I'm straining to keep it upright and keep a steady pace.
Mocking bird, two lengths ahead is hop-loop bouncing, straight tail up, whortling foreign translations. Ma says they're spies who tell our secrets to the gods.

I wake up knowing the dream is about learning to use the internet and how to write. This is a learning process that's taking place in public. I've always crouched on a marble boulder in the middle of the river and told my tales to Raven. He laughs and tells his friends who gleefully bounce my stuff back and forth between each other, the mountains, forest, and glaciers. Any feedback I get is highly personalized. And private.

Though outdoors.

Dilemma and odd circumstances. I'll sleep on it.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

A Turning Tide Goes Out

My message is written and stoppered in amber glass stout and battered
Now to walk back to the redwoods where I last saw the sea wild
I'll toss it with a might to just the right current and stay
high on the outcrop watching it glint away

Old woman, return now down the well-worn path
Cozy-up in a cabin built by love and wonder till you're frail
what might come of your heart's desire

The wind is mixing with birch smoke
It's sweetness is fluttering across the face of the moon
I can hear the tide low against the shore
Light, careful, foot steps, swishing in the beach grass

My heart jumps and eyes tingle
Imagine
From Alaskan In The Hinterlands
Illustration, Girl Beside A Stream by Arthur Rackham via Creative Commons

Thursday, November 26, 2009

It Ain't So Bad

We're old. We both felt it today as we climbed up Vallejo St.
You were a damned good sport when the long monotony of I-5 was calling so alluringly, like ancient reruns when one is ill or discouraged.
I was trying to share a view of the bay, coaxing you with walk and talk of mountains and sunny days that we've climbed in the past remembering the moon through the giant Redwoods we'd wound around the night before.

You know what's missing? My famous old endurance, surprise and your smile.
The one that I've seen flash golden, stunned as though you were Henry Carter making the discovery of Egypt's child pharaoh, Tutankhamun.

Can't seem to crack that tomb.

But darling I'm thankful both for the walk and iced coffee at Mel's.

From Thanksgiving '09
Peek!

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Winter Reflection

From A Place Where The Edge Feels Like Skin

Today, the delight of listening to live radio via the internet brings me to near tears after so many years of being too far away to get 'a signal' from our beloved public radio station, KHNS.
Catching Prairie Home Companion, in front of the woodstove on a NASTY November day.

Makes home all the homier.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

An Autumnal Joy

Nearly three weeks ago, while visiting Ridgefield, Washington, I slept with the Sandhill Cranes. Nestled in my bedroll, out in the field beneath the stars, I felt the chill rising out of the ground just before dawn.
And then--- they began.
A lovely morning song rose from all over the area. As the purple drape of sky faded to lavender hinting gold, group after group waved their way above me. A glimpse of Sky and Earth merged, with me sandwiched in-between.

Field Game ~

A splayed prone cross on the stubbled field

arms are finger tip stretched recalling flight

I imitate the mewing bands of flop-legged

Sandhill Cranes who've just arrived in this

Washington field of dropped corn

swooped down from the far north

my heart beat and heat surge

beyond the reach of this gentle Chinook

wind in western attire

we whisper and laugh up the dawn

Saturday, June 27, 2009

In The Circle Game

I was eight months pregnant with our first, young Micah to be. You called to let me know that your father was in the hospital fifteen miles from Jeff's parents, where I'd been staying to safe guard this high risk pregnancy.

I'll never forget the sense of trepidation I felt walking down the halls of The Brush Prairie General hospital. The stories shared from your girlhood perspective, to meet for the first time the one who I'd held responsible for all your rage, the unresolved anger and hurt that would splash onto us, your children. But you asked that I go.

I rounded the corner and an ancient, tiny, man, afloat within the hospital bed, looked at me and called me by your name.


And there you were, Thursa May, our mother, peering out from the face and body of your father, my only grandpa. He thought I was his daughter, unseen but somehow, unaged, for forty years.
I had vertigo. It was quite a moment.

I haven't asked what your grandson might recall.

Monday, June 22, 2009

A View From Afar



The great path has no gates,
Thousands of roads enter it.
When you pass through this gateless gate
You walk freely between heaven and earth.

- Mumonkan




The young people of Iran, who's loss of life now hangs draped in symbolic metaphor, stand beside the countless eons of planetary loss from absurdly, misguided "human" behavior.

We're still crawling out from the belly of the beast and have a long way to go. Predator and prey, within our own species?

Our ability to behave with "deep humanity" goes back to the beginning, on our Mother's knee. The life giving, planetary existence on Earth absorbs our blood and renews our chances to survive with each new day.

As much of this hemisphere is celebrating Summer Solstice 2009, perhaps we can use the moment as a point of demarcation. To honor the dead by valuing the living, in perpetuity.

Life and death and the immediacy of our time well spent.

Monday, June 15, 2009

June's Delight

Sisters entwined in a closeness only they can describe




Joey gets the hand cranked forge warmed up for bar-b-que!

"Dear Lady, it's 48°F today (which means the mosquitoes aren't so bad, a plus). A good day to bake. Your recipes are wonderful Mona. Our middle daughter Merrick, has become a baker extrordinare. Last night, we joined she and her honey out on the Chilkat Peninsula for Rhubarb Pecan pie. A small outside fire and a delightfully corny joke session followed. We took turns passing The Pretty Good Joke Book about. It was a lovely simplistic reprieve. You were there, in my heart."




The gathering assembles at Merrick and Joey's patch of green-ness for her 24th birthday.



Merrick's new potter's shed (complete with a piano!), on axles for easy relocation.



It's a Southeast Alaskan Garden Party!

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Begin The Beguine

Fearful of death, I walked in the mountains.
By meditating on its uncertain hour,
I conquered the immortal bastion
Of the immutable.
Now I am far beyond fearing death.

- Milarepa




The immutable... that which is unchangeable.
Though the course is not set, I sneak peek around the corner and see just which tones and colors will lure me towards my endgame. I'm hoping you'll be there.

We could steal our way into the midnight performance, sit quietly up above and watch the live connections between the stage and adoring audience. It'll remind you of your best shows, the entertainment you assembled that had them standing in the aisles, roaring for more.

It'll flush me with joy, the kind I feel when reminded just how great people are, in spite of being human.

Maybe we'd belt back a couple of tall cool somethings before folding into one another's arms, tickling each others fancy, and turning out the lights.

New dawn, we'll awaken refreshed and begin different lives.

Or, we won't.

IF we do, hopefully we'll recognize each other from a distance. I'd really like that. I'm starting to get a big kick out of what we share. Shall we finish this round out, with dare and pizaazz?

I think of Dylan Thomas, "Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night"

Monday, June 1, 2009

Night bird, open Love's narrow, cloistered, thrill

"Grace changes us and change... is painful." Flannery O'Connor




Flannery O'Connor described herself as a "pigeon-toed child with a receding chin..." and a "you-leave-me-alone-or-I'll-bite-you complex."

When O'Connor was six she taught a chicken to walk backwards, and this led to her first experience of being a celebrity. The Pathé News people filmed "Little Mary O'Connor" with her trained chicken, and showed the film around the country. She said, "When I was six I had a chicken that walked backward and was in the Pathe News. I was in it too with the chicken. I was just there to assist the chicken but it was the high point in my life. Everything since has been anticlimax.” (borrowed from Wikipedia)

Night bird, open Love's narrow, cloistered, thrill...


To conjure an introduction to Ms. Flannery O'Connor is a new interest... "everything that destroys also creates", a rather Taoist take from her devout Catholic stance. She 's also noted for having said "Write not about character but with character."

I'm learning how to melt into other forms that character and characters might emerge.

Louise Erdrich, E. Annie Proulx, and maybe Ann Lamott are stepping up to the plate tonight as well as, Uh oh... Shirley Jackson just walked in!

Welcome to the cloister...

Monday, May 25, 2009

T'aint Fair Jim McGee

Stuck in reverse can reach beyond all restraints of time. To decide whether to make use of family history, that near bottomless and ever renewable resource, is dependent upon how the memories have been held and by whom.

A story that's been long kept in the vaults of disregard, can lay quietly gathering strength, like metamorphic layers.

Tess tried to stay composed through the melting process as she lay on the ground between the buildings. She'd crawled out her bedroom window, knowing the narrow strip of green between the houses was glimmering as intensely as her room.


She'd soon be missed in all the chaos. But it was lovely just laying there until then.

The ground was the first damp coolness she'd felt against her skin since January when she'd laid with Fred, hands tucked behind their heads, elbows flared, smoking cigars. The black sparkles of the night dew reflected across the wind shield of his baby-blue Barracuda. They'd just found each other's rough edges and had turned everything to velvet; velvet as in the silky dark skin, her cheek across his belly. Velvet along the backs of his ample thighs. Velvet like the warm newly wet underside of her, laying together happy and naked.

"Darlin' for having been an astonishingly well-kept virgin in these heady times, I firmly declare that you are quickly developing a sweetly defined style of romance. Ahem! And your bass line..."

"Well," he laughed, "my cap's tipped in your direction Madam. You make it easy to be a fine lover; pass that I.W.Harper m'dear, would you?"

The new year was off to an interesting start.

She couldn't resist, "Fred, my God! Do you ever think of the beautiful babies we'd create?"

He had. And he was certain the world wasn't ready for them. Nor was he really ready for the two of them as a couple. Just trying to get past his family would be absolutely impossible.

Tess loved that his brakeman's job with the Southern Pacific Railroad, between Bakersfield and Barstow, were as dear to him as the chamber orchestra and choral group he was helping to initiate at East High.

She knew his plans might include family some day. But she also knew that he'd never be ready for the battles of a mixed marriage. The world was too filled with hatred and Bakersfield, sure as hell was no exception. Fred was a lover, a writer, and a musician, not a warrior. That's what she loved about him.

"Ladyfair, what you were confronted by last week in school is a fraction of what our kids will be fighting every day of their lives."

Tess easily recalled the bitch slap, that one she hadn't seen coming. Nearly brought her to her knees. She'd held her cool, knowing she was seriously out numbered. These girls packed knives. They were however, only delivering a straight up message. "White bitch, back off!."

"Tess, I adamantly want to spare you the ugliness that you're going to be met with on the front porch at my folk's place. Your family is bizarrely different, and God knows I love them all."

"Well then, my darling hunk of gorgeous humanity," she flung the words off rakishly, into the blackening sky,"would you kiss me with the love you feel and please say goodbye?" She'd become a nun.


Her whole life she'd believed if a person held tightly to every shred of focus that was available to them, working endlessly to expand that, that things would start to change. Will power with a sizable helping of intense passion piled on ever so thickly, just for entertainment along the way. Upon reaching the right level, the very fabric of reality would begin to meld and be reshaped. Much as her mind and emotions merged when loosing herself into another's body. Or performing beautifully before a rapt audience.

Like the time she flew as an eight year old under the full moon.

Luke was coming home though he'd only be there long enough for a weekend visit. He was leaving for real this time.

When he joined the Navy, she knew he'd be done in four years. He'd be home on leave often. She'd be just a year short of graduating when finally they could get some time together! It would be like when they were kids.

Those four years had brought so much change. Best was the birth of their youngest brother Barry. Tess called him "her little brown berry", and he loved her completely with the toothless delight of an infant. The joy that this new baby brought her, and to the rest of the house seemed to pull every one together, even their folks.

Tess wanted badly to blame Mom. Sheliah had always provided the rage, filling the house with yelling and dramatic plate throwing while Poppa would sorta laugh and stretch out among the babies on the living room floor, refusing to fight.

You knew better than to crawl in with Pops, even though he was just as crazy about playing with the little kids as you were. Hell, you couldn't leave Momma flailing about with all of that anger; it just wouldn't be fair. Shelia would stand in the doorway with her hands on her hips, furiously hollering, "just get the Hell up off that floor and fight this out with me, God Dammit!"

Pops would flatly refuse, holding a flying baby above his prone chest, "Sheliah honey, as of today, I'm through fighting with you."

A few weeks before, all four of the girls went with Pops to the florist's shop. They'd been given huge arms full of flowers to parade into Mom, all in a line according to height, crooning and crowing "Happy Birthday To You..."

Poppa brought up the tail, with a very large, very soft package tucked under his arm. Tess knew it was a wonderful floor length terry cloth robe; white with satin trim. She helped him pick it out at the shopping center. Macy's no less! It was nearly a hundred bucks!

But Mom surrounded by kids and flowers could only muster a Poloroid photo-happy smile. The fire that was dancing in her violet eyes was not the kind that filled your heart with joy. Serious trouble was brewing for her 40th birthday.

By late that fall they were living in The City. Mom was already back to work and they were now sharing the old Victorian with another family; Dad's mistress and her three kids.

The three adults worked for the State of California doing "Public Relations work". You weren't too impressed with that bunch were ya kid? Lot's of office parties with people who weren't anywhere near as much fun as the old newspaper crowd.

But it was wild having eight kids together under one roof. Now that you were the oldest by six years, you always had lot's of babysitting money and playground time. You practiced switching back and forth between Mary Poppin's magic, and Peter Pan, doing battle with pirates while rampaging Neverland. Always, waiting for Luke's leave home.

His last few letters said he'd finally found a mid-western girl to marry. He'd be driving up from San Diego in his '61 Plymouth, and not just on leave. He'd finished his four years with Uncle Sam's Yacht Club.

It'll go like this...you'll all spend the weekend draped around the kitchen table, telling old stories. Dad will be down from San Francisco and Luke will have everyone laughing so hard that Mom will have to tightly criss-cross her legs and pull off her glasses to wipe the tears again and again.

And you're never going to be able to let him know how you really feel. After all, you're brother and sister! So what if you've been this crazy about him your whole life? He's getting married, and moving to Wisconsin for Christ's sake.

Oh Shit! It sounded real this time.

A couple hundred crickets are singing in unison all around her as the melting begins. It starts very slowly out at the far edges of her extremities; her toes, up and along her legs, across her flat downy belly and beneath hungry breasts; rubber arms with still, tingling fingers, earlobes light and hot, free of all jewelery. As she softens in through her scalp and out along her long black hair the bedroom window is quietly closed. Melting alone.

It's all humming now as it worms its way easily down into her core, penetrating quite deeply.

She's pretty certain it's going to be a full moon... Shhh... stay focused.

Concentrate all of your will...

Friday, May 15, 2009

Out In It

Smack! The middle of May and all of the protective shielding from the land of cool and moist has been burned away. Heat radiates from the softened asphalt, clinging to my drooping pace.

Hot city grime comes creeping up my legs, finding the salt of my earth, each stride met with thermal updraft.

The new straw broad-brimmed holds yards of hair and shades burning blackened shoulders, but nothing shields the ears or cushions the blare of a downtown five star alarm.

The blasting sirens, fire trucks led by ambulance, haul through mid-town traffic.

Babies in strollers instinctively cover their ears. They rock back and forth, wailing their own alarm, tiny stars suspended inches above the swelter.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

The Grand Canyon Suite ( a visit to the dentist)

Diminutive was never an aspect of our mother's personality.

Intellectually robust, dignified, and not afraid of much. I've always viewed our mom as I've imagined the Grand Canyon: perilously beautiful and deep. Resistant... Challenging... Difficult.

A timeless, rugged elegance with pink and mauve undertones.

The wheelchair backs into the dentist's examining room. A soft-bottomed, black spine-crusher with her elbows made chicken wings... Being accommodated?

Any movement makes her lavender eyes very large. She remains in the chair, seated... Pressed and vulnerable?

Her tiny, hammer-toed feet are swathed in a pair of fuzzy-chenille socks. Hot-pink Mary-Janes... Lost pride and dignity?

The upper front tooth went with the lost lower partial... practical humility, overly expended?

Tall and silver... Dr. Sullivan.

A straight-up wit from an era who still appreciates lithe and swarthy. He's easily seventy-six. He's been the family's only dentist for forty years. Both kind and smart he's wielding a zesty, lemon grass charm.

He's effectively flirting with her. Mom's eyes have begun to mist. Her mouth is confused and trembling. Her chin is chattering from stimulus overload.

He remembers 1968 when she first arrived in town and is now asking after each of her six adult kids, those he worked on. He frames any question with the answer conveniently built in.
He recalls her many post-retirement efforts with honest admiration.

She's only required to speak with her eyes. Those mercury quick pools of light are sparkling confidence and intensity.

Our Mama, diminished?

She's become capable of being ineffably fetching. She's charmed, and utterly fathomless and is only continuing to gain in grandness as attrition makes for added depth.

Sure kept a great dentist; the one who's stayed for over half her life.

Silk sleeved and turning from within, she's slowly winding down.

And there seems to be no end in sight. She's making a divine descent, enjoying the interesting view.

Monday, April 13, 2009

A Christmas Gift From 1979

We had no notion of the scale. Of what really lay beyond the treacherous currents at the gates of the World Ocean.

Our old fat Captain, we’ll call him Pythagoras, is plastered in the corner of the wheel house. He’s madly calculating the surface of a sphere, the one he still hopes we’re navigating. I can tell though, by the yellow fear blathering in his eyes, that it's more likely two wings and and a prayer that he's digging for.

When doubt clamps on, clinging tightly to scurry up his toga as terror, he retreats to his stateroom bunk to solemnly strap himself in. We least experienced crew are now left to "hold course", meaning: "come to terms with life as you've known it."

The engines chug on as we tow the empty fuel barge, corking a thousand feet behind us. It rises far above the horizon like Noah’s mountain-ed ark, then to plunge out of sight beneath the siege of waves.

My senses are on alerted arousal. It’s as though my core has become snagged by tectonic force; a consummate lover is testing my worth. I know that a show of fear is a futile ploy and would dispel this mood so tenuously constructed. Endurance is foreplay within this consensual arrangement.

I find my position in the dogged, oval hatch. My hands brace upward above my head. My legs are splayed and timbered as I ride fluidly, wave upon wave and the boat pitches violently foreword and aft, starboard to lee.

Our deck light turns blackness to bottled sea glass. When the boat’s bow burrows beneath the mountainous waves, tree sized logs glimpse at momentary light then pummel on their way, past our wheel house windows. The swirling foam and buffeting wind continue to plunge us hour after hour, past the suggestion of day.

As the onslaught thunders rapturously down upon us, I realize Heaven is now fully unzipped. It’s openly pouring water from the sky on us and around us for a million years without abating. The clock strikes again, and again, 24:00, three times around.

Somewhere within this I’m melded and molded to a place of accepting that both tragedy and joy are life. That an absence of either; the void.

I’m gifted a transfer of power and clarity: Okeanos’ inherent passion of the unpredictable. Chaos lies within creativity and order, and are partnered in this marriage of existence.

The beauty of blueness, this marvelous globe, ...and that I am here to witness this miracle? Astounding.


After which, the sea was spent.


We limped our way into Port Hardy, B.C. My, you should have seen the galley floor!

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Solo Flight Prayer


Flying above the valley floor...to the myriad worlds beyond, and back again.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Spring's Shadows


The tips of her fingers hold shadows delicately; her touch speaks of a gentleness, a deep compassion that belies her ferocity and sense of right. I can only stand back in surprised wonder as I watch the woman that she's becoming, unfolding from the little girl who rode on my back as a wolf pup.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Remembering the Giddy In Grunt


Spring by our standards in the area of Haines, South East Alaska, were met head on today.

Light, snow flurries mixed with diffused shots of sun and the occasional blast of cornflower blue and direct yellow. It kept it beautiful to be out in and the trail conditions just right for being on top of.

The remaining snow depth is also measured by local standards and this year would be considered moderate. That's to say if you had legs ten feet long, you'd only sink in
up to your crotch when you punch through after stepping off to the side of the trail.

With legs of a regular length, there remains that suspended above a bottomless abyss feeling that I find rather exhilarating.

And when your boot gets stuck, which invariably happens, it's an aerobic workout getting back up with one leg extended back behind to keep your exposed sock from getting wet.

Then, as I bent forward on the well supported leg to try and fish the cemented boot out, my ham strings which have been forgotten for much of this winter sang the hallelujah chorus. Thrilling!

This was on the way to the barn to tend to triplet lambs born early yesterday evening.

The jerry jug of warm water for the new mama and her barn mates was bumping up against my thigh sloshing pleasantly. My biceps have turned to oatmeal this year as well. But it'll come back. I promise myself.

Today went well and for the first day of serious grunt and I'm glad to say that I took it at a reasonable pace. Now that things are thawing, I'll pull the sled full of barn material out onto the garden compost areas five times again tomorrow.

Daughter Hannah's bringing out fresh bedding for the new comers and the others who are pending birth in the next few days.

Somehow my love for this crazy lifestyle has always won out over the occasional season of inertia. Hoping to make an old timer's comeback this year (I hope, I hope, I hope).

The babies are still a bit scruffy looking but darned cute none the less.

(For my own use and any one else interested, here's a link for Strongwomen.com. High time I get the weights going, a sort of "do or die" effort, emphasis on the "DO".)

Friday, March 27, 2009

In The Splendor That Is Spring


I delight in the darkness of the new moon.

Gifted by my Hannah Rose, this lovely necklace creation to adorn my shadow dance. I'm loved.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Back Among The Angel Birch


The week is moving by so pleasantly.

Traversing along our snowy trail, the light and feel of sunlit peaks, chilled smell of cottonwood, willow and river, the music of thawing breeze all so familiar, I get vertigo.

I'm moving through my own body.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

A Dance, Beloved, For The Price of A Poem

A surprising warmth greets Mason and I, our long explore tired

The snow stays quite stickily on my red heeled shoes.

Barn friends are still waiting for clear ground;

their pointy cloven hooves, starving to join us

down in some green leafed out bower.


Just as my voice hits a high note, a tremendous slide

blind crashes ice shattering off the roof.

The red expanse looks at us gratefully; the smoke stack spared.


I'm again impressed with gravity.


(A wonderful Writer's Almanac with Redoubt and Volcanic Spew)

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Shadow Sister's Time of Lament

She said..."You know, back then at night the city would have this stunning silence which I adored, until the wretched times. Then the slamming, switching cars and squealing train brakes were my own personal Hades, clawed yet comforting.
It was like all the rage I forbade myself to express, found outlet nightly with the train's chaotic symphony, gently greasing down into my body with the radio's smoky FM style.
Darkest heaven on Earth."

They really didn't know how to reply. Back then she was offered another babysitting job and the lure of the open road after graduation. Which she took, grateful to leave them in peace and go to find her own somehow.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Image Reader


A wonderful contribution and conversation recently transpired on Gather.com.

The Maiden's Journey is mythically portrayed in the art photography of Patrisha McLean's Flower Girls Blossom, and has been shared in an article by Ann Image Reader. Access is linked in the title.

Sally Mann, also known for the sensitive and insightful photography of her children and sentient landscapes she loves, has assembled a new body of work, What Remains.

Sally's beautiful work takes an artistic look at the dying process, death and...well, what remains. A descriptive coverage of the documentary on this new phase in her unique and controversial career can be seen with the link provided.

Once again, it's the stories of our lives and passages shared and portrayed where cultural evolution can be glimpsed. Hope you enjoy.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

The Ensuing Coils


Most afternoons, when bugs were young and drifted snow piled deeply all day, we'd hunker down under a common blanket, properly sandwiched. With paper words and pencils we'd draw straight through towards evening, making up stories, the ones that mood dictated..

(...and the mood always dictated)

One would have a take on WHY the dragon scorched the villagers season after season.

Another would feel compelled to drum up the smells of the scorched peasants, with lavishly obscure names while detailing the costumes and complicated quests.


The third, Cougar, youngest and most loquacious of all, would give voice to her vindicating girl hero. Cougar's valiant maids always rose victorious, upsetting One and Another by chancing cliche and repetition and prospective audience.

As the lamp wicks flickered low and effective, the tale would charge on, industrious, and roiling.

From out beyond the veil, held breath listening to a noise familiar. A thin, squealing, insipid tone. The wheedling whine of liquid sucking for air. Jerry jug grip, tightly tilted for the nightly fuel, the engine caught and spluttered to life.

Then followed grand clomping stomping of snow laden boots and bashing against the door.

Muscles bulged around quarters of spruce and hemlock, mere warmth for the evening as Poppa walked through the door.

Evening's electric light vanquished the dragon's spell, suspended now as words from the dance drifted off, past opening credits of that night's movie.

Things would pick up again. Later with lights out. We'd build up the fire and all tuck in.

Dream new material for the following day.


(linked in the title is a connection to Bent Lorentensen from Denmark and his report from the recent conference in Copenhagen on global climate change. Well worth reading.
Also, Gather science writer, David K. shared this article on the conference with really fine additional links. Take a look at his Dake Page as well with the RSS feed provided to the left.)

We're getting a sharper picture as the coils tighten.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Helping to Steer / or hand me an oar!

Spreading the word...

I've added a few new features in The Blue Room (go through the window by clicking a link up and to the right).

The Blue Room now has The Writer's Almanac updated daily as a feed. Podcasts are available there and by going back through the vast archives a person can glean a good cursory exposure to literature and history. I've recently started going back through the great links Garrison Keillor's always keen to provide.

Ted Kooser, was the US Poet Laureate for 2004-06 and hosts American Life In Poetry which I've linked to. You'll find also The Poetry Foundation's RSS feed. These are both wonderful sites for all genres of poetry and prose.

Careful though, you might get lost.

New here to the Hinterlands' page is a feed to Bob Edward's daily show. There you should be able to get podcasts of the weekend show (though my piddy Pewter no can do).

I've featured an award winning documentary that The Bob Edwards Show produced called the Exploding Heritage on the practice of mountaintop removal for coal mining purposes in Eastern Kentucky. The show aired back in 2006. I hope to post a PDF transcript, excellent for those of us 'back-eddies' who are tech limited by choice or denial. It's a good read, just how to feature it here....?

Which leads me to my fellow Luddite, Kentuckian and poet/writer activist Wendell Berry (he's committed and I've fallen from grace, thus this blog), I've an RSS feed for a fine web page devoted to Mr. Berry's on going efforts.

These stories of controversial land use issues, will remind many of our on going challenges in the Chilkat/Klehini Valley and provide impetus for some of the potential environmental nightmares looming our way.

Hope you enjoy and give me a little feedback if inclined!