I want the backstory!

Ruby and I had been hearing this noise for a few minutes, it sounded like really sick hound dogs, and it was getting louder. Ruby was upset, but not vocally. If you know of Ruby, you know she is vocal. That was strange. I finally had to get up and look outside.

Walking by was a heavily tatooed, physically fit young man, in the old style mens undershirt. He had two big, loudly baying hound dogs on heavy chain leashes on his right. They were on the sidewalk, and I could see they weren't barking, but I was still confused. Someone was pissed off!

Off to the side on the grass, in his left hand, was a little black poufy-cut toy poodle wearing a  sparkly red leather collar. The poodle was pulling on her leash (away from the big dogs), making a terrible yelling screeching sound. 

He had a pretty good grip on the big dogs, who were doing more of a yelling back bark than a wanting to eat the annoying little dog bark. He tightened the poodle's long leash with resolve, and kept moving. 

Don't you want to know the backstory behind this?

And, no, sadly, no photos. It happened too fast, they were too far away, and honestly, I was more interested in watching the action!

 

Then and Now, July 8th

Last year, I was deep into saying good bye to my Highland gardens, the places I had stalked the previous year. We were getting ready to move, packing, cleaning, arranging. Fortunately, I still had a dog to walk.

I took a lot of pictures in my favorite gardens. It is ironic that as I was getting rid of things before we moved, I was taking and keeping hundreds of pictures. Click, upload, put away until later. Later is here. 

This year, I am pulling back, not going in as close on the pictures, looking for the delicate scenes. As my life gets less intense, so does my photography. 

 

Then and Now

A year ago today I toured what would be our new home. I started thinking about revisiting and moving forward. So, today is the first of a new series, Then and Now. 

Since most days I have my camera in my hand, I am going to start showing what I was photographing this day a year ago, and today. 

The first picture is a shot as I got off the train and walked to what I knew would be our new home. The second one year later (to the day), our very own pepper being born. What a difference a year makes. Home is where you are. But a garden is nice, too.

 

Back-road adventurer on America's 'Blue Highways' - CNN.com

Why I created Pink Highways...

Back-road adventurer on America's 'Blue Highways' - CNN.com

I sit beside the fire and think...

I think of this every fall, when I wander though the Autumn colors.

From The Lord of the Rings
THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING, BOOK II, CHAPTER III
By J.R.R. Tolkien

I sit beside the fire and think
of all that I have seen
of meadow-flowers and butterflies
in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
in autumns that there were,
with morning mist and silver sun
and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
of how the world will be
when winter comes without a spring
that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things
that I have never seen:
in every wood in every spring
there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think
of people long ago,
and people who will see a world
that I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
and voices at the door.

Fracture Whole

"It doesn't make you broken," Phillips said. "It doesn't make it so that you can't go on and be -- once you deal with honestly and realistically what you've been through, it doesn't mean that you can't be counted on or you can't be well enough to be a part of the world." MacKenzie Phillips

Fractured Whole.

Spending insomnia rembering Joshua Tree. I spent a great wintry weekend there once too long ago. The freezing-cold late night arrival, winding through the surreal gray rocky landscape, mornings worshiping the sun on large rocks, and afternoon walks around the high desert. Peace, serene, healing. Peace.

Fear and Peace. Calm healing peace. (3) Surreal, Sun!, Joshua Tree.

Mothers who become mothers to daughter's who become mother's of daughters. (3) Maiden - Laughing, dancing daughter. Mother - Fracture strong, birthing. Crone - Aging, shining, being.

Safe House: Woman surviving alone. To her all is gone, she is safe, is it worth it? in cultures where family is everything they are, what does she have left if she is is all there is. (1) Miniature Life

Life of chaos and pain. Fire unwinds her into a woman, same light inside burning but before one leaks it out. Going through the fire lets it out. (2) Leaking, Letting

Crochet Hands. Intricate pattern, Lace tears, frays. (2) Hands Remember, Brain Forgets

Fractured whole.

For the boys...

It's the spirit that shines from within the crone...

An artist friend told me that some women who viewed her paintings of the Maiden, Mother and Crone wanted a fourth woman. They weren't ready to be the crone, so she painted a fourth woman, the queen.

I don't see the crone as bad or ugly or old. It is the stage of life after maidenhood and motherhood. It is when your children leave the nest and make their own, when you stop your menses. The only reason that the crones of yore were women who had a short life-expectancy. They all aged early, but life is different now. It is not but a hundred or so years that we have increased the years and the quality of life after menopause. Crone is not a bad word, it is the stage of life you are in, where your spirit is, and it encompasses both the mother and the maiden; they were once us.

The Climb

Life is about the road, not the destination.

Everything is amazing, nobody is happy...

Definitely worth watching, especially if you remember dialing the 0's on the rotary dial...

All about the Crone, or not banging your drum slowly

There is a certain point in a woman's life when she admits that she is the crone. I hate the negative connotation that word brings to mind, because it is really a thing to celebrate, just as we celebrated my daughter's coming of age and the messiness that brings to a woman once a month.

I work with many crones, women who celebrate their womanhood as well as their age and the gifts that can bring.

Today a friend shared a celebration of a woman I aspire to be, in all her crone-ness. Jerrie is a 91 year old woman who is sitll playing her drums. Not some little drums, either. She is a full-on drum-set woman. She does not bang her drum slowly! Hey Jerrie!

Words Matter

I had an interesting conversation the other day. I was talking to a co-worker and said that I had graduated, and that my major is Information Management. She said, "No, it is not!"

Startled, I asked what it was, then. She said magical words, "Your DEGREE is Information Management."

I started to ruminate on this. Words matter. Words are magical, they can hurt, bring joy, empower or deflate.

Go forth and say nice things.

I am a Katie...

Fourteen years ago I moved back to Minneapolis after being away for sixteen years. On my way somewhere with a friend - a nursing student at St. Kate's in Minneapolis - we passed the gates of St. Kate's in Saint Paul. Looking at the beautiful campus through the main gate on Cleveland and Randolph, her four-year-old daughter exclaimed, "I want to go there!" Her mother said that if she wanted to, she could.

Silently I echoed her refrain, but as a struggling single parent of whom a high-school counselor had said "might not be college material," I did not believe that could happen.

Eleven years ago next month I received in the mail a postcard for something called Weekend College at the College of Saint Catherine. I looked at that card for days, hearing that guidance counselor echoing in my head. I just knew that with my learning disability and lack of confidence I would never be able to do this. My mother said, "Why would you want to go to college - what will you do with a degree at 50?!"

Stubborn woman that I am, I went to the next information session, applied and was accepted.

Eleven days from now, ten years later, I will walk across that stage and receive my diploma.

What will I do with a college degree at 52? I will live the rest of my life knowing that I did this, that I was - am - college material. Besides, as Ann Landers (or was it Dear Abby?) said, how old would I be without a degree?

Their bombs were mace and pepper spray

The sights here in the Twin Cities are sickening. The total disregard for the all of us in Saint Paul and Minneapolis are outrageous. The streets are packed with people expelled from our downtowns.

The many colleges and the U of M are in full swing this week; the Twin City public schools started classes. The city buses have been diverted and are running many tens of minutes behind, making people miss secondary connections. Half hour commutes have been doubled, tripled. Parents are early to leave their children, late to gather them from school. They are late for work, dinner is late, children are late to bed and early to rise.

My husband and I attended Take Back Labor Day, a concert on Harriet Island. We were across the river from downtown Saint Paul. I left early to go home. My bus was subverted for an hour and a half until they had figured out an alternate route around downtown. Laura Bush and Cindy McCain were in town. I stood in the heat and sun, with no seat or shade.

At the bridge leaving the island there were four huge city trucks blocking access. Police were everywhere, behind barricades and in helicopters. All around the island were groups of officers, blockades, and police cars. Just in case we burst out of song and into violence.

Once I finally got on the bus it took me around downtown Saint Paul to hook up with the second bus - a half hour ride turned into a one and half hour ride. There were transit supervisors there telling no one anything. The Republican's are in town, freedom and movement is compromised! The streets of this city did not belong to the people of this city, they were co-opted by the civil authorities.

I was standing there not knowing all that was going on downtown. I have a friend with the protesters so I was a little more informed than some. I watched police cars speeding by, some with sirens, some just speeding. There were ambulances flying trough traffic, sirens screaming. A rented Hertze-Penske van rushed by filled with riot police!

My husband left three hours later to find the next bridge over the river blocked by four more huge city trucks, denying access to an area outside of downtown Saint Paul. These are cities of rivers, and our passages across were being denied and funnelled away from our homes. Neighborhoods were taken over by the National Guard. Every overpass and ramp to and from the freeway had police cars.

Is Saint Paul in the Green Zone?

Is this all because those with money felt that they should finish their August vacations and then come to our town and take over during one of the busiest weeks of the year? The Republicans are using the gun of government, and it is being pointed at us. They have seized control of our city, and now it is not ours. Their lives are untouched by we who know how many houses we have. (For too many of us, the answer is none.)

Apparently, our cities and our towns are only ours when they deign to let us have them. The Republicans invaded us like they invaded Iraq, with total disregard for anything but their desires and motivations. Their bombs here were mace and pepper spray.

The results of this did not result in our lives lost, our property destroyed. We were only inconvenienced, and I do not mean to compare our discomforts with what the Iraqi people go through every day. I only mean to compare the disregard for anyting beyond Republican wishes and desires.

This all feels like a first step to more dangerous thoughts, far beyond our small version of civil disobedience. Our own civil authorities not only allowed but participated in this debacle.

Our media is painting the protesters with their broad brush, or not portraying them at all.

Our leaders have forgotten where American sovereignty lies.

I remembered

I remembered today what my Jasmine smells like! There, sitting amidst all of the plants and flowers at the Farmer's market was one lone Star Jasmine plant. The smell was weak, but it was there!

If you stand for a few minutes, it starts to seep in. My daughter and I have the same memories of Jasmine washing over our dreams; we slept in the same bedroom. I told my granddaughter that story, about how we smelled it all night long.
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The whole morning reminded me of a market in San Diego. The stalls of fruits, vegetables, cheeses, flowers, honey, and other various items was just like spending the day at a seaside market or the big flea market. The jasmine was the perfect topping for this almost Sunday ( it is Saturday today).

Sense Invasion

As I drifted to sleep every night the scent of night blooming jasmine would float through my night, cradle my dreams and cleanse my senses. I will never forget that, even now when I sometimes can't remember the smell of jasmine. Every spring in Minnesota I remember those San Diego dreams. I remember them as I walk down the street, only to be suddenly surrounded with the smell of apple blossoms, making me both remember and forget the smell of my jasmine dreams.

(This post is for Susan, who helped me remember to write this down, the paragraph I crafted as I walked along the street tonight. The paragraph I remembered to write down. I write a lot, I just don't ever do it when I have a chance to record it, then I forget just as I forget everything else. Thank you, Susan!)

Christmas Vacation

This is the first day of my Christmas Vacation. I can call it that because I work for a Catholic college, where we can say that it is a Christmas Vacation. I remember the excitement I felt as a child, waiting for what this yesterday was - the last day before our two week break. That was back in the days when there was actually snow on the ground for the holidays. Because our president gives us the days between Christmas and the New Year as a gift, we are off for eleven days!

This year feels like I am still a child - still getting a vacation from school. Possibly that comes from working at a college. There is snow on the ground, though the weather is a little warm for it to stay. But, better, there is snow in the air. It is a wet heavy snow, and the flakes I am watching fall are mixed with water, but it is still beautiful. The flakes are the huge wet ones, that you know contain hundreds of little snowflakes clinging to the bare trunks and branches of the trees. I am sitting here in the pre-dawn dark on the longest night of the year, watching the huge flakes fall outside my window, and I am feeling the same joy that I felt as a child. As I left work, I called out, See you next year!

This is one of my favorite seasons, not especially because of Christmas, but because the year is ending, the next one is starting. The days are short, the night dropping in the late afternoon. Napping now is like curling into a deep cocoon, where you fall asleep in the light and wake in the dark. It feels a little thrilling, like getting back up in the middle of the night to play for a while, then going back to a long winter's night sleep. As a child it made me feel like a grownup. As an adult it makes me feel cozy.

Then, after the holidays are over, it is the second start of a new year for me. Fall is the first new start, with schools opening back up, and either me or my children were returning to the fresh slate of a year. A few months later we get a second brand new start of a year. For me it is also the turning of another year-page; my birthday is on the second of January. Going back to work on the day after my birthday always feels fresh. Clean. New.

For now, as the dark black of the night turns to the dark gray of a snowy winter's morning, as my world turns slowly white, I sit here content and at peace.

--
Janice
---<--<@ @>-->--- ---<--<@ @>-->---
We are all wanderers on this earth. Our hearts are full of wonder, and our souls are deep with dreams. --Gypsy Proverb

On the Road Again....

We left Mike and Mimi's Monday morning. It was hard to go, especially when they really wanted us to stay longer, but time travels on, and so did we.

We didn't make it far the first night. We left late, moved slow, stopping around, including an outlet mall. Now, I had to promise Brian it would be fast and painless, and it was - espeicially when you consider he is the one who got most of the booty!

We slept in Norfolk (Naw-Fawk), because we wanted to spend the next morning at Virginia Beach. I couldn't be that close to the ocean without spending some time there. So, we hit the road, found several Starbuck's, and stopped by the main tourist beach in town.

There was a huge statue of Neptune. I took a lot of pictures, they will be here soon but I left the camera in my room. :-)

We did a little present shopping and then headed West through Naw-Fawk. It is a long western strip of town, and the road was filled the entire way (miles) with stores and strip malls and big malls and restaurants and everything else you could think of.

We did find a little storefront seafood store, so we stopped there for lunch. Yummm. Brian had Scallopps which were wonderful. I had shrimp and fish; just as good.

Then, we hit the open road. This was the definition of a beautiful open road! The skies were blue, the clouds were white and fluffy, and the road was rolling hills. It was really the perfect day. We wanted to bottle it, or attach a camera to the car just to record this road. We listened to , to the Woodstock concert, The Doors and then Joan Baez.

On another note, I love my iPod! The soundtrack for all of our travels has been amazing. Brian makes a perfect DJ.

Pictures coming tomorrow, if I find Internet again.

Long time no Internet!.

Mike's place is wonderful and welcoming and full of trees. The trade off for that peace is that he only has dial-up access. Do you have any idea how long it would take to upload pictures that way?

The moral of this story is to be patient, grasshopper, I will do a new blog when we leave here. We will probably leave Friday sometime, so maybe by Saturday morning there will be new stories and pics.

For now, know that we are well and at peace. That and the night stars are incredible. They are brighter than I have seen for a long time and Wow! there are so many!

Humbling and sobering...

Today started in a place that Erin will recognize - small curvy winding high up low down all around roads. She will recognize it because she will recognize the sweaty palms and the nervousness and the slow driving. Brian went mad (the crazy kind of mad) seeing me pull over to let the faster cars pass us by. I just wanted to be nice, that and get them off of my tail.

It was incredibly beautiful, though it was hard to see with my eyes on the road (note to self: just keep looking at the road, the blacktop, the white lines, the mirrors, ...).

One of my favorite parts of this spring driving is the forsythia. Their golden leaves are the lilac's of the East. I worked with Sr.Ann Ganley, who was from New York .She described a trip back east, where the hills were laden with this golden treasure. I have seen a few in the Twin Cities, but nothing like the laden hills here. They are beautiful, and they remind me of a now departed friend at the same time. It is a nice memory.

We slowly made our way to Hancock, PA, where we had lunch and avoided the 250 vendor antique mall. There Brian laid out the Battle of Gettysburg, and we were back on the road with our destination in sight (25 miles down the road).

When we arrived we followed the auto tour around the battlefield. I cannot describe adequately how this feels. The road goes from the Confederate side, where they fought and died in numbers that are just way too high. They dug in the hills, with their canons and regiments lined up along the ridge. This was not a big hill, but it did stretch a long ways. The view to the left is looking across the main battlefield, where the canons fired and where the soldiers charged.

The road is lined with woods to the south. Not so many today as there were then. There were several owners, each sharing their parcels of land with soldiers. Willingly? Probably not, this is Pennsylvania, part of the north.

There are plaques along the route detailing who was there, how much equipment they had and who led them. They also listed the dates and the casualties. It was a three-day hard battle for a bit of ground that was more symbolic than anything. It was from July 1 to July 4, 1863. Winning it would have meant that Lee managed to press into the Union territory. Losing meant that after three days of hard fighting, when night fell, the Confederate survivors walked thirty miles to Hagerstown, Maryland. It also gave them a wagon-train of wounded that stretched for twenty miles. Humbling and sobering.

The road is also lined with individual monuments to the soldiers of individual states. Some of them are impressive. No matter how terrible this war was, no matter the politics or the brother fighting brother - or even officer fighting against former Academy mates - each state considered their soldiers to have been patriots.

General Lee was a good man, even as he was a soldier. He was doing what he considered to be his duty to his country - or the country he wanted to create. The Union generals were defending the country that they wanted to keep. Each was doing what they were ordered to do.

The ending of the trail led to the hill where Lincoln made the famous address. When we told him that Gettysburg was our next stop, Jim wanted to know if I had the address. I didn't get the joke immediately, and Jim on the phone and Brian in the room were laughing. I now have the address, if you want it. It is at the intersection of Tourist Trap Street and Souvenir Circle. The text of the speech is here.

Tomorrow we will be in Tappahannock (city) on the Rappahannock (river) for a few days with Brian's brother, Mike. Happy Easter all.