The Third Act

National Museum of Women in the Arts

We went to see the Sonya Clark exhibit, which was brilliant and fantastic.  On our way out the security guard asked us if we knew what the building was originally.  We said no and she said she'd take us outside and show us.  We got out front and she told us to look up, at which point we saw a Masonic symbol.  She told us how when she first went to work there she had to go in the basement, which was filled with a multitude of very small, mysterious rooms.  After that, she said she didn't want to go down there any more!  I love such interactions...hearing peoples' stories.

 

 

 

milky oats

The oat seed I planted this spring, has yielded a nice crop of milky oats (picked before the grains get hard; when pressed they release a milk like liquid).  There are now two jars of milky oat tincture, infusing on the counter.  I look forward to the nerve calming and strengthening qualities of this herbal medicine.  

 

old school

Old Ebbitt's Grill in DC, on a warm, humid, June afternoon

Green Velvet seats

Tablecloths

A cocktail named "The Sicilian"

A crab cake sandwich

Tourists

 

 

 

new moon...

...new idea for the month.  One photo one thought a day.  Haven't quite worked out the details yet (should be simple, no?).

The snow peas have been generous this year.  They're six feet tall at this point and don't seem to be stopping.  I didn't really expect that.

 

on the move...

It's a hot and humid day.  There's a 30% chance of storms, which isn't much, so we may remain dry (errr...that would be without rain) probably until tomorrow.  The precipitation chances are supposed to jump over 50% at that time.

I did a little bit of running around today, stopping at Candela on the way home.  It had been since before lockdown that I was last at the gallery.  I had a nice chat with Gordon and Ashby while there.  We talked about how the gallery was doing, how it weathered the pandemic, and moving into the future.  Seeing artwork again, specifically photography, is inspiring.  One of these days a fire will get lit under me in regard to that again.  It'll come when it comes, I guess.  

In the mean time, here a few recent pinhole pathways (as I've named them) images.  Film remains a bit of a disconnect to me at this time, aside from instant film.  That being said, I had an idea of matching instant photos with text...nothing long, just stanzas or even just a sentence.  This came to me right before I fell into an oddly dream filled nap this afternoon.  I know I had something very specific in mind...words already built into something meaningful.  But now, it's gone.  It'll be back.

 

 

 

 

 

VMFA

It's been almost a couple years since I last visited the Virginia Museum of Fine Art.  I finally got myself over there the other day and renewed my membership.  It was really wonderful to walk around and see the exhibits.  

While things are "getting back to normal" I'm still having a hard time moving into this "whatever is next."  It's not that I'm afraid.  I've been vaccinated and am confident that I'm safe.  It's something else...some weird existential disruption that's causing me unsettledness.  All that being said, often I just have to put myself through the motions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday...

...morning church in the garden.  Bird song for the choir and communing (communion?  I did pick a couple snap peas to munch on) with the myriad entities.

Some days you walk through fire...only to come out the other side, better for it (or hopefully so).

 

 

 

 

 

why you should pick me

By way of explanation...  I'm part of an online writing group/course so occasionally I'll post something that's come from that, along with imagery.  Sometimes the images will come from what I've already made and sometimes it'll be something inspired by the piece (a little bit of both here).  If you're into expanding your creative outlets and writing appeals to you, please check out the link above!

 

 

Why you should pick me…

1… I have a magical garden. I can tell you the names of all the plants and how they like to move around, never staying in exactly the same place year after year. How it may look like a jumble, but it’s my own attempt at abstract art.

2…I never stop being amazed by birdsong. Lately I’ve been making slow motion videos of bumblebees and have become transfixed by the slowed down bird calls in the background. It feels like being in an altered state, listening to them.

3…I painted my living room walls red and am unapologetically enchanted by color.

4…I have eclectic tastes in cinema and you’ll probably never see a more motley selection of DVDs.

5…My humor tends toward the dry/goofy/absurd. My favorite comedy movie is The Russians are Coming the Russians are Coming. I saw it when I was child and was reintroduced to it when my family (oh so many years ago) rented a cute little cottage on the hillside up at Sea Ranch. The DVD collection at the house (no cable/TV) had this title in among the “filmed on the north coast” section. I think my love for this movie is twofold…one, it’s an awesome flick and two, it reminds me of those holidays we used to take together as a family, when we were intact and Caspar, the dog, still with us. Some things are never just one thing…

6…I have a curious and interesting collection of coffee table books and you’ll never be bored waiting for tea at my house.

7…I’m a good, solid cook. You won’t go hungry.

8…I’ll listen to you. I’m learning how to sit back and let people talk without getting side tracked by my own related experiences and feeling compelled to interject. I’m learning it doesn’t always have to be about me.

9…I think creatively. I like to help solve problems, even if I can’t always solve my own.

10…I’m compassionate and empathetic, even if I don’t always appear warm. It took me to well into adulthood to learn how to give and receive hugs…how to say “I love you” and mean it. But I’m pretty good at it now.

11…I do what I say I’m going to do.

12…I work hard to be honest, but you’ll never hear me be overtly critical.

13…I understand we all have struggles. It’s rare I’ll judge someone without taking into account their own situation and conditioning. Life is hard.

14…I continue to surprise myself, working harder than ever, making the effort day after day, exploring and experimenting. I’m not boring (at least not by my standards).

15…I don’t always follow the rules, which for the most part has worked out okay…sometimes better than okay. That being said, we’re talking creative life here (that is…you won’t find me speeding or rolling through stop signs).

16…I love deeply and lastingly. It’s a blessing and a curse, really. You won’t find a more loyal comrade. It takes egregious offense to lose my friendship (see #13)

17…I’ll never stop loving California…it’s in my blood. Sometimes I feel like I don’t just live in one place, one time zone. My heart still rests on the shores of the beloved Pacific.

18…I fixed my toilet tank one time.

19…I’m not afraid of spiders or snakes (although I *am* cautious).

20…My house smells like Japanese incense and my body Samsara.

21…I have a cute dog. She’s weirdly independent and anxious at the same time. When describing her to my counselor once, I was asked, “are we talking about you or your dog?”

22…I’m bright, but can be slow on the uptake. I think there’s just too much swirling around in my brain at any given time.

23…I love wood fires, my wood stove and the fire pit out back. I learned how to make a one match fire when I was an assistant during an outdoor kids’ camp.

24…I want to make things better…for all of us. I want to hold everyone and everything in my arms…the past, present and future. But that can be overwhelming, so I do what I can, putting one foot in front of the other, one task checked off the list at a time, while expanding love out from my heart in all directions.

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday

Despite my aches and pains, I got out and tackled a section of the garden that needed attention.  Vinca and fishwort both had to be taken out by the roots (as best as I was able) and I also extracted the wild daffodil bulbs.  I'll let the bulbs dry and replant in the fall.  But these invasives just had to go.  Sometimes I surprise myself with what I accomplish (given how I'm feeling at the time).  That being said, I was in a serious funk and feeling a little overcome by it.  I figured some physical work outside would help...and it did.  After which I walked Avery.  After which I walked myself down to the river and sat a spell.

How about a few pinholes from Colonial Williamsburg, taken when Julian was out a month ago (how has that already been a month??).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

all my gardens

I walked the garden this morning, as I always do this time of year. I thought about all the gardens I’ve had and the many small things that have amazed and delighted me about each one.

There were the garden beds at my childhood home.  I remember my mom’s bearded irises and how they smelled like candy.  To this day I can’t experience that fragrance without it taking me back to that little stucco house in L.A.  One year when I was nine or ten I decided to plant radishes.  I put a whole pack of seeds in a 24 inch line.  It was  a surprise to see the crowd of sprouts that arose and the power in them astonished me.

In my twenties I moved into a duplex down in San Diego.  There was a yard out back in which I planted beets and lettuce, and harvested the already growing purple statice flowers, to decorate my table.  Completely unrelated to gardening, I remember climbing on top of the shed to watch the fireworks from Sea World on warm summer nights.

I got married and we moved into a small cottage in Long Beach.  I created a vegetable bed right along the side of the house, next to the fence.  It flourished.  And then I became pregnant and had such awful morning sickness I couldn’t even harvest the glut of tomatoes.  The neighbor next door was kind enough to do so for me and I promptly put the bags into the freezer because the smell of those ripe red veggies just made me more nauseous.

We moved to Phoenix with our first baby and got a house on a quarter acre lot with ten citrus trees.  Those were the sweetest oranges I’d ever tasted.  I remember the raised beds I put in the yard and how the basil and eggplant loved the desert heat.  But it’s the star jasmine that really comes to mind.  It was a humble climber I planted next to the front porch post.  On cool summer mornings or evenings, when I could open the house, the scent of jasmine flowed in and I still think of that home when I smell that flower.

Several years later found our family back in California, in the bay area.  I loved my El Cerrito garden.  The big yellow cabbage roses I planted, that I check on every time I visit my ex.  The persimmon tree that has thrived as well as the fig. I planted a white sage in the easement that’s still going strong...I clip a some whenever I’m there to bring back a little bit of that California garden to my home in Richmond Virginia.

And now I’m living this solitary life, except for my dog and the abundance of plant beings that keep me company in my current garden.  I walk among them every morning and so many small things make up the whole that never ceases to awe me...poppies are currently blooming, bumble bees are rolling around in rosa rugosa blooms, mugwort offering me its healing leaves, greens and veggies there to nourish this physical frame.  There is nothing out there that doesn’t bring me amazement and joy, healing and wholing my spirit day after day.