Chop Wood, Carry Water

Life is made of the common moments. 

Saturday buzzes with cleaning, errands, and household chores.  There are leaves to blow in the yard, counters to tidy inside the house.  The weekly grocery shopping must be done.  Drop dry cleaning off at the cleaners.  Sort and pay the bills.  Take the dog for a romp in the park.  Be sure to exercise - goodness knows there is no time any other day.  Take Son for a haircut.  Time to buy new jeans.  Catch up on journal writing and pen a letter to Grandpa.  That hedge needs trimming out front.  And laundry, there is always laundry.  

Then Sunday comes, a day of rest and renewal of spirit. 

The day dawns quiet.  There is fellowship and spiritual bread.  Long and slow Sunday dinner.  An afternoon nap. 

In the evening, snacks are bagged up for quick school lunches for the week ahead.  Dinners planned for the next five days.  Homework done.  Garbage and recycling sorted and taken to the curb. 

On Sunday night the house breathes deep.

Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.  After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.  - Zen saying

Rockaway

Girls getaway to Rockaway Beach.

Just dune grass, sunshine, a cartwheel on the sand.  Stories.  Lots of talk.  Remember that time in our 20s when....  Mimosas on the deck.  The soundtrack of the waves by day, their lullaby at night.

Go to bed as late as you like.  Get up at noon if you wish.  There is no wrong way to do it here, now, at Rockaway.  Another day in the paradise of the Oregon coast.  What a weekend.

Infinite

August

Nothing like a fire on a summer night.  The day's heat falls away, the stars appear, and the stories begin.

Photosynthesis

Autumn photo shoot at Cathedral Park under the St. John's Bridge for Son's senior pictures.  It is an ethereal setting with soaring Gothic arches.

Brilliant sun rays pierce the angelic white clouds in today's periwinkle sky.

The gritty concrete girders and bisecting railroad tracks are an earthy crossroads to disappearing infinity.  The place is full of mystery and atmosphere and the stain of color and light.

Jackpot

Ninety percent of the time the weather on the Oregon coast is miserable.  Living in the Pacific Northwest means accepting that the beach is not a destination.  It's not pleasant to be assaulted by wind, rain, clinging sand and cold... in June. 

Add in vacationing Oregonians showing too much pasty white skin, and .... Santa Monica it's not. 

No.  Seaside, Oregon, with its mishmash of shabby low-rent vacation cottages and home-spun eclectic businesses, its crowded grid of seafood joints and brewpubs, is Southern California without the sunshine, youth and beauty.

But every once in a millennium the sun shines brilliant and there is no peer to the sparkling pristine carved-cliff beauty of the Oregon Coast.  Saturday was such a day.

Luna

Son had one request for Christmas:  a German Shepherd Puppy.  He has not asked for much the previous sixteen years.  But a puppy?  A living, chewing, pooping thing?  A German Shepherd? 

I tried talking him out of it;  or at least revising it down to something more manageable.  Oregon in the winter is terrible for housebreaking a puppy.  How about waiting until spring?  GSDs shed.  Let's look up low-shedders ....  What about a Corgi?  We aren't the type of family to be out climbing mountains or embarking on daring wilderness rescue missions.  What would a German Shepherd want with us? 

It's a good thing he didn't ask for a pony.  Because Christmas came and we delivered. GSD it is.

We had visited her at six weeks old in her cozy whelping box at a farm in Turner, Oregon.  She snuggled with her seven litter mates and toddled around when mama dog neared the pen.  She was reserved;  more likely to sit back and watch her more intrepid siblings get into trouble.  Fat, round, and bright eyed, she stole our hearts.  About three weeks later we picked up the small black fuzz ball and brought her home.

We named her Luna.  But she looks like a black bear cub.  Luna Bear.

She's Son's dog, but like everything else at Casa Peace Love and Bossy, she belongs to all of us.  It takes three nimble adults to guide a puppy into civilized human house living.  We have changed our sleeping arrangements, schedules, shopping lists, leisure activities, waking and sleeping hours, and research.  Everything revolves around the new baby.  In the month she's been with us, we have all grown and learned.  A lot.

Luna has served as a darling, demanding, determined antidote to my sedentary lifestyle of yore.  Right from the start, I have had to get down on the floor on her level.  To bend, reach, lift, walk, run and clean, clean, clean.  My sit time has been reduced drastically.  When I do sit, it is to read a few more pages of the dog training books.  This feature of puppy ownership may be the most valuable gift, adding years to my life and health to my years.  She's a good girl!

This morning I took Luna out onto the back deck, slick with frost.  As we stepped outside, I heard the flutter of wings overhead.  I followed the trail of sound and saw a small owl alight on the bone-colored tangle of winter branches.  His fat silhouette in the thicket stood out against the pearly  morning sky.  It was the first time I have ever seen him. 

I have heard him for years.  His gentle hoot has serenaded many a summer evening.  He perched in his high aerie and surveyed the winter domain.  Then he took flight and disappeared in the northern sky. 

I caught sight of the owl whose watchful eye and soft chant have woven through so many twilights.  A gift of the dawn.