I have a thing about the flowering trees and shrubs here in Portland in the spring. I cannot seem to get enough of them. Every one that I see seems to be better than the last or more abundant with blooms or graceful or magical. I am simply looking for an excuse to photograph another one some place in some nondescript location. This morning as I was passing this one in the rain, I started thinking about the very wet spring we have had here. And then, as thinking always leads to another stream of subjects, the tornadoes in the Midwest came to mind. We could conclude that it is aberration, but I think not. It is just the weather taking a turn to convince us that nothing in life is predictable, ever.

Just like the sunrise that I caught as I left Mendocino yesterday morning. It is always different in some way, like a snowflake. The color, the shapes of the cloud formation, the silhouettes, there is something that presents itself as every-changing and evolving.

And why do I find wild lupines growing on a sandy beach on my drive home when I merely stopped to photograph the waves and the rocks in the distance?

And more than anything else, how did I leave this photo in my cell phone for so long and not appreciate its magnificent message…that there is a power in nature that we simply do not understand and probably will never comprehend.

My husband and I left yesterday afternoon on a road trip across the country…..destination? Washington DC. As I was driving my husband took a photo of this happy camper as we were passing.

Shortly after we left Boise, Idaho where we had spent the night, we pulled off the road so I could take a few photos of the beautiful mountains that always seem to draw me in and give me a reason to pause.

No matter how pressed we are for time, I have to stop and take a photo, as if the next time I return, the mountains will be gone. I think it has more to do with my realization that perhaps I will not pass this way again.

I take photos of the mountains. He takes photos of me. It is a pretty simple formula, and one we are both used to expecting from one another.

I took this photo at a rest stop not far from Laramie, Wyoming. We even found a vegan/vegetarian restaurant here and are spending the night with hopes that we can make it to Des Moines, Iowa by tomorrow, the next stop. The hardest part of the trip is going through cattle country, feed lots, and riding past cattle transport trucks. My heart aches. It must be the season for calves because everywhere I look, babies are frolicking in the fields or cuddled next to their mom’s. If only the world could feel what I feel, but that is another time and place.

When I return to Portland, I will have some news to share. Our lives are going through some transitions, all good, but also life-changing. More later.

Yesterday we left Portland and drove to Mendocino, arriving 13 hours later. We had not been down here since Thanksgiving due to some surgery my husband had as well as other demands. I had been knitting as my husband drove and then decided to listen to an audio book on my ipod. Now I was looking up instead of down to follow a stitch, and suddenly this sight came into view. I grabbed my phone to take a photo. On the left is a shower, but in the slice of light is the last part of the day revealed beneath the cloud cover. It was arresting..beautiful. Surely, there is a quote or a poem to accompany this scenery.

“Remember, the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you”. Rumi

This is one of the B and B’s in Mendocino at twilight, my favorite time of day here. We spent all day in the garden, weeding, cutting back overgrowth and cutting out plants that no longer fit our small garden. We did not finish everything, but there is much that we accomplished. Perhaps someday my garden can resemble the beauty and perfection of this one, but for now I am happy to be able to work in it whatever it may be. Tomorrow we head back to Portland to be there for another event.

My hands are creased and embedded with dirt, and my nails stained even though I have scrubbed them. My gardening gloves were so wet from the plants that I had to go bare-handed halfway through the work. I love being in the garden, but I also love sitting at my computer under this upstairs window knowing the ocean is within easy reach and the day has ended in work well-done. Peaceful reflection can be relished as the sun sets.

I finally decided to name this piece “Weathering Hearts”. I have been watching and listening to Jude with her mini-series “Whispering Hearts”. Recently, I listened to two audio books on my walks, Wuthering Heights by Jane Austen and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. So in keeping with a literary theme, and for one I feel deeply connected, I thought my hearts and this piece might make a good combination coupled with this appropriate title.

Ebby has also been growing fur, very, very slowly. I am finding this process a bit difficult in terms of the sewing and the angle, but I like the look. I won’t cover the entire body with this as I intend to use other pieces that I dyed, but I think the effect is good.

As I was downloading my photos, I realized I had taken a photo of Mt Shasta in Northern California on our trip back to Oregon last week. I never get used to seeing this spectacular mountain. It is always so breathtaking and spectacular. I think that I will climb it….someday. If my knees hold up, it might just be possible.

This winter has been one of record snow for many, but for Portland, Oregon, snow has been minimal, scattered or dusted. The day we finally had huge snowflakes was also the day we headed to Arizona for two nights. So this morning, at my urgency, we drove up to Mt Hood to meet the snow.

We stepped into our snowshoes, met the sunshine, and hiked towards the mountain joining many others with the same idea and impulse.

It was a bluebird kind of day, and as we hiked, I started shedding my scarf, mittens, and extra layers.

I must meet the snow on a regular basis if it does not come to visit me.

Just as we were leaving, the clouds came in to completely obscure the mountain. I could see the sunset would be one with the cast of pink and lavender on the horizon that would reflect a golden and pastel glow on the snow and give it the winter light that is so much a part of my memory and longing.

Of course there is always the funny little snowman that a child leaves behind for others to enjoy as they head back to the parking lot, the last tender moment to a lovely afternoon.

For some reason, I have never been a huge fan of the desert. Maybe it is the heat and the lack of shade or lush foliage that leaves me feeling parched, both physically and spiritually. However, having spent two nights there on Thursday and Friday, I have come away with new awareness and appreciation. My father always loved the desert, particularly in the spring when it was in bloom. He made annual treks to see the colors and the flowers and listen to the voices there that called him, the ones only he heard, the ones that carried him into the deeper recesses of his complex mind. He always came away refreshed and renewed. Now I think I was introduced to his appreciation the last few days.

The sky has a deep and penetrating blue as it becomes the backdrop for the sharp contrast of the red and stark sandstone. When I think of the desert, too, I am reminded of Georgia O’Keeffe and her love of the stark desert beauty around Taos, New Mexico where she lived and painted. And for me, part of the awareness and appreciation of the colors and textures are the same elements that I employ when I am thinking of creating a cloth design or imagining space and how something needs to be left open to chance and surprise, like the face of these desert mountains.

One morning we decided to climb Camelback Mountain in Echo Canyon in Phoenix. Phoenix is supposed to have the best urban hiking in the country, a fact that surprised me because I always boasted that we had this claim in Portland, Oregon. We had no idea what we were getting into with this hike. The stairs at the trailhead seemed harmless, so we ventured up, eager and ready for some good morning exercise. The elevation is 2,704 feet above sea level and the elevation gain is about 1,200 feet. It is all layered sandstone with plenty of rocks and boulders to climb over and around.

Some of the trail is so steep that there is a cyclone fence lining the edge as well as a metal handrail that you use to pull yourself up and higher to the next level. We went up the Summit Trail at the beginning of the Echo Canyon Park.

When we climbed up past this area, I turned around to see where we had been and took this photo. At this point, my husband was taking every step with great precaution because of his inability to use his left arm and shoulder from his surgery. At this point, he was regretting the climb, not wanting to re-injure his shoulder and begin the process of healing all over again.

I was loving the climbing and pulling up and over the rocks, the strenuous task of the journey. About halfway up the climb, we stopped to talk to a man about our age and he told us about this 80+ year old man at the summit named “Sonny” who climbed Camelback three times a day, 6 days a week for a total of 80,000 times to his calculation. Within 15 minutes we ran into him as he was on his way down. I asked, “Are you Sonny?” He was wiry, tan, and about 5’6” tall. When he confirmed his identity, I told him that we had heard about him. He merely smiled and clambered down over more rocks on the steep trail down. I love running into people like this. How inspiring!

Most of the hikers on the trail were fairly young, the majority in their twenties. I hope they all use Sonny as a role model as they age into their senior years.

We took the Cholla Trail down on the other side making the round trip around 3 miles. Now I am ready to go back to more of this desert urban hiking.

There was a shop in town that sold red dirt shirts. It looked just like the colors of the sandstone and this red dirt was used to dye this clothing. I loved the deep, rich color and immediately thought of the blue sky and then the turquoise jewelry that mimics this blue so beautifully.

About a week ago, I was roaming around the internet viewing blogs and allowing myself simple entertainment. I came across the blog of Ann Wood. It is worth a visit when you have time. In November, Ann visited the Fortuny Showroom in NYC, and she may collaborate with this company and use their incredible fabrics to make some of her designs. How exciting for her and what a perfect match for her creations and the textiles. I am hoping this becomes a reality. I would greatly anticipate Fortuny in her designs.

I have featured these pieces in another post, but while I talk about Ann I thought I would show them again in order for you to connect with her inspiration. Unfortunately, I do not have any photos that I could share with you or articles about her, but if you go to her site you will be so amazed. She uses old and shredded and worn antique clothing, deconstructs them and saves what she can to use in her birds, spiders, and owls. On one post, she hung one of the most beautiful antique dresses and featured the fragility and beauty of its state before she cut into it to salvage the elements, buttons, lace, trims, and other silks and cottons and linens. These photos are works of art in her suggestion of ephemeral beauty and a once elegant past.

I believe she lives near NYC and has the most amazing apartment that she shares photos of in one of her posts. I love the fact that she uses old bits and pieces of clothing and gives them new life in the most creative and wonderful way. She is certainly one to watch in the future.

I have been all over the map it seems in the last month. Traveling is part of my life on a regular basis, endless road trips real and imagined. This photo was taken coming back from Northern California in an area that has large numbers of Roosevelt elk. I never tiring of viewing them so whenever we travel though this area I always manage to go very slowly and sometimes stop.

This particular afternoon a large herd was crossing the highway, and we all waited patiently while they crossed the road in front of us.

A few days after arriving home we boarded a train to Northern Washington to visit my husband’s brother and wife in the town of Mt Vernon. This is a view from the train with the Olympic Mountains in the background.

On the other side to the east were the Cascades.

These are the geese that winter in the Skagit Valley near the town a little farther north where Deb Gorr lives. She lives in a beautiful area of the country. This valley is really quite magical.

The next day after returning from this trip I headed to Southern California and took a photo of the beach at sunset while strolling with little Lincoln.

As I turned around I saw the sun glowing on this beautiful plant in full bloom.

No matter where one is in life, whatever the circumstance, however one views the glass full or empty, there is less madness and more comfort sometimes in the beauty of nature, its unfolding, nuances, and sometimes dramatic changes. It always seems to give a measure of peace as well as pleasure. I reside here in both real and imagined ways. So when the holiday season often seems too much for our endurance, there is always the sustenance of nature that can transform our minds and hearts.

Over the river and through the woods, we are heading back to Portland early in the morning. We are packing and loading earlier than usual because it is due to start raining within the hour. I took this sunset photo last night. Sunrise and sunset, so many of these we have witnessed in the last 13 days.

I accomplished quite a bit while I was here including my angel cat, a baby quilt, and finished reading two books that needed completing.

This is Lincoln’s baby quilt that matches his room. I am not inclined to show new fabric here in this space because my focus is clearly on vintage or antique pieces.

I machine quilted it so it would be finished in time for my daughter’s visit in December when she comes with Lincoln, Ben, her husband and Ben’s parents.

When I sew in my little house I always have a candle lit.

When I am out there sewing, Sam, my oldest kitty, climbs up in the loft by a special ladder that my husband designed only for him.

The sleeping loft is really his. When we rebuilt the tiny house, originally we thought it might serve as extra sleeping quarters for guests, but the grandkids are afraid to be out there alone at night, and so it has become “Sam’s loft.” I think it suits him very well.
He tends to think it really is only his and is quite upset if anyone tries to climb up there.

At least he allows me to store a few boxes up there. Tomorrow all three cats will be cooped up in their cages for the long ride home, but today is still a day for freedom and cat bliss.

We have been in Mendocino for over a week now, and I have spent most of my time here in my little house in the back with the heater on, sewing away the hours.

I awakened this morning to freezing temperatures, so cold that all the rooftops were covered with a heavy frost. I still went for my brisk morning walk with extra layers, hat, and gloves.

I have been thinking a lot about Jude’s class, “Cloth-to-Cloth over at Spiritcloth and how soothing and comforting is this process. I am working on one of the pieces that I wove in silk and velvet. I started to stitch it in rows and then decided to add many more stitches to the velvet. I love the way the stitches bring the velvet to life and give it another look, one that catches the light and gives it a richer dimension.

Of course, Sam is always ready to be there and help me, particularly if he knows it is a delicate piece and one that requires special handling. I always indulge him and let him feel important and helpful for I know soon he will become bored and realize naptime is calling him.

We had a quiet Thanksgiving with a friend in town that we often see when we are here. I credit him with telling me about the Maryhill Museum. Without his encouragement, I am not sure I would have ever made the trip to this incredible jewel of a museum. These were the flowers that graced our table along with abundant food that we are still eating. I hope everyone had a relaxing day whether it was celebrated or not. I intend to make the Christmas holiday manageable but comforting and festive.