The edge of the bittersweet loop.

Longing, desire and assailed by memories. Bittersweet. Yes that word describes my return after three weeks away from Marigold Loop. I slept upstairs above the garage where it all began three years ago. Since then we have lost the shuffling old man and the skittish dog. The return prompted by a family reunion and a house filled with kids not my own.

My sister picked me up from my house in Roslyn. My boys; adults and busy with their lives but popping into hang with Mom when they need her, so I left reluctantly in my mind to have to go back to a place I just left a little while ago. A place filled with hope, yet also of things I cannot have.

I met with my peeps and that was sweet too. The tripod is changing. Life is changing all around us and I decided that maybe it was for the best that I had to face and own up too this, assault on the senses. I'm ready to go home to that sweet mountain air; that I can now face up to in its own way, for its haunting memories mixed with all the new ones.

Vette and I watched Machine Gun Preacher last night. It was violent, sad and heartbreaking but showed a side of the world that we hide from. I have hollered the words 'be nice' a couple of times this weekend to my sister and then at her kids. I like people to be nice and kind to each other. Why do we have to be mean and hate?

Make love not war. That is a good line. I have always been accused of being a hippie and maybe they are right. But what is wrong with being nice and kind? There is definitely nothing wrong with making love and not war. Perhaps if more people were to make themselves happy with the pleasure of sex there would be less war, less useless violence and pent up rage. Even thoughts of sex have the power to melt me into a pliable kind giving person.

Bittersweet. Breaking down that word makes it not quite such a beautiful word...bitter. I never want to be an old women filled with lines of bitterness on my face. I want my lines to be as comma's around the eyes and mouth, showing laughter, happiness and a life filled with good times, great sex and even better moments.

Looking glass

I'm sore. Aching ass sore. There is not one inch of me that is not sore. My fingernails ache from pulling weeds and I have wounds from the weed whackers violent flings of debris. Everyday I add to my list of things to do and get done. The best part about yard work is that it only costs in pain.

I look forward to just going to work to set around. The days are long it is the part of June where every evening at the end of the day gets longer. It is twilight that is endless. Until the solstice.

I always seem to think that Fall is my favorite season. And it is, but sometimes late spring is nice too. The lake is high and the edges are filled with the art of flotsam. I love to go out there and hunt for sticks. I plan to make a trellis from them and then to also make a bean teepee.

 
Rummaging through natures free hand outs. The limbs of trees that have flowed through melting snow. They arrive soft and polished at the lake shore. Makes me almost miss having a dog that loves to chase the perfect stick and at this time of the year there are thousands of perfects sticks.

I have had some good conversations this week, Nate my old renter dropped a saw on his thigh and limped by and stopped to chat. Today I talked to the Mayor of Roslyn. Once upon a time he stole my dog 'C.O.' may she RIP she died last winter. Another dog he stole 'Harley' was with him as he watered my neighbors rhubarb. The yard looks a little better everyday. I'm thinking my ass and arms will be looking well toned by the end of the summer.

Honey dew

#61 graduates

Almost finished with my second week of working from home. Last week I was not so sure I would want to keep my same schedule of 1-10, it meant a lot of time in my house. This week I'm loving it. I have a vast amount of time to work on my 'To Do List.'

This week I have stained my lean to that covers my furnace and garbage can receptacle. I stained the steps and I started on the wood that lines the base of my house. Then I also started building a rock wall. I coated my island and going to start a garden. It's refreshing to come in the house and sit around working for eight hours. By ten I'm beat and taking a soak in the tub then head to bed and up doing it again the next morning.

I love it that I can go hunt for rocks.
I love it that I can walk to go get my mail.
I love the silence.

Number 61 graduated by the skin of his teeth. Both my kids are adults. Life is good.

Well equipped

I have been officially equipped and deployed.
I start working from home tomorrow. Wow!
I wonder how it will change my life? And by this I mean maybe my creative flow?

For the last year couple of years I have been at my parents and writing in different formats, suddenly I find I have my own space again and stuff as well. Will I seize up, dry up or embrace and release. What will happen when my work is in my home? I have been focusing on ways to make myself not lose certain routines and schedules, but to also create different ones for myself.. I don't want work from home to suck the creativity out of my life.

I have started painting again and that gets me out of the house and will continue to get me out of the house; to hang, work and create with fellow artists and they inspire me.
I at one time planned to have my writing desk as my office desk. But this morning thought suddenly no.... I need to move it to my bedroom so that it is separate from my work life. So that writing is still a retreat from the real and painful world.

I plan to walk more. I can walk to get my mail and be in the heart of the City in minutes. I can walk to the bar and have a beer. I can walk just a small bit and be in the heart of the mountains and forest. I have a built in network of friends. It will be good, so good.

Parts

Okay, what could make me part with that beloved painting? Beloved Mickey Blue Eyes. It is not often one of my children are so enamored of a painting that they want it as well. So with much sadness and yet pride that he likes it so much, it is his. He even posted it on Facebook.

My peeps came to visit for the holiday weekend. Much fun. Many bruises.

Sirens Call

'So make your sirens call'.
'And I need to know how to live my life as it's meant to be'.

Good lines to good songs.
Listening to Mumford and Sons while having a late lunch; a cup of tea and some animal cookies.
It's my weekend again and just got back from finishing my painting. Had to bring it home wet, but I was extra careful with the Mum's car... all the paint got on me I believe. I think the picture does not do it justice, because the colors are much more vibrant in person and the size of it is also deceptive. But here it is below anyway.

It's mine.

'Collect your courage and collect your horse and pray you never feel the same type of remorse'.

It's mine, I'm keeping this one.
Once in a while a painting means more than others to me and there is not much that could make me part with this one. Something to do with the deep meaning behind the photo I took. The location and what it all makes me feel. To me this painting is the culmination of a great love affair with a good and beautiful man that led me to finishing my first complete book.

'But there will a come a time you'll see
with no more tears and love will not break your heart
but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see,
what you find there with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair'.

A deep thank you to VitaminC for all the things you gave me, even though you cannot be mine.
Also a love of a house with a turret that overlooks the Sound near my favorite restaurant. In the photo I took; just in the upper corner, hidden in the night is the turret.
I know it is there.
As we walked up this private street in the gloaming and I stopped; grabbed my phone to take a photo, because the light and shadows were unbelievable. I felt so much magic in the night air.
The beginning of the book melting into me and through my veins.

'Corrupted by the simple sniff of riches blown
I know you have felt much more love than you've shown'. 

Week 3

June 10th

June 10th is my scheduled deployment date. Finally.

In the moment.

Last night I left my house to attend the house warming party of my former renters. Their new place is within walking distance of my house. I visited with the neighbors and friends while I was waiting for Mickey Blue Eyes to get off work and come hang out with his Mom. The food was good though and I wanted to write about these rolls she made. They were homemade, and smelled of yeast. Perfect rolls lightly browned on the outside with that little spot perfect for your fingers to break it open in the middle. I broke it open and lowered my head to inhale the scent. The first roll looked so good I ate it plain. The flavor of butter and yeast soft on the inside. Later I went back to have another, and just in time there was one left. This one I pulled apart and put horseradish on because now sitting on the table was homemade roast beef. I added some greens from a salad and closed the sandwich and headed back outside to sit upon the orange bench that matched the house to eat it in the evening. Kids playing around me and an occasional rain drop landed on my hands. Memorial weekend is coming and the good weather always makes a quick exit before the holiday weekend and we are right on track for that to happen as two more drops of rain hit my other hand.

I walked down their driveway, my boots making a solid clack as they do when I walk with purpose, I called Mickey and headed home. We made plans over the phone as I walked the short distance back to my house; to watch a movie, so I needed to walk down to the post office in Roslyn and pick up the movie that had arrived in the mail earlier in the day, 'Paul'. I dropped my drink off and did my quick jaunt to the PO. Once I was home again, I was restless and noticed the house warming party had started a fire. Brilliant, I thought I'm going to burn too. It won't be much longer that we can burn, so now would be a good time to start working on my accumulated piles and leavings of the pruning of my tree's. There is something soothing about using pruners and burning your own yard debris. I started my fire and gathered stuff to fill my pit. I have this little dryer drum that is a great burn pit. The renters had buried it and placed rocks around it. I burned until he arrived; filled with melancholy to have to leave in the morning and more so when I tell him and he replies, "Yeah I like it when you are here too."

Another day to burn, awaits.