by the sea


Friday, December 28, 2012

it seems odd living by the ocean most of my life that there will be periods where i don't see it that often. in the last few years, that's really changed. we spent most of last year renovating our home in mexico. salvaging might actually be more like it. that process, and the comfortable gathering place that it is now, has brought us back to the ocean. being on the water, i realize it's where i am most calm.  
i can think
i can breathe.

teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.
antoine de saint-exupery



Wednesday, December 26, 2012

christmas week

cold saltillo mornings
deserted beach walks
candlelight dinners
strings of lights
cozy fires

the free market


Thursday, November 8, 2012

Do you ever feel like nature is a perfect market for home decorating? I must admit that I do. Nature's bounty has provided me with so many great home decor items over the years and I am not sure that I have every properly thanked her. Certainly while on her shores, I pick up litter and while atop her peaks, I praise her greatness, but I would like to declare my written gratitude for all the beautiful things that she has so generously provided me.  

Driftwood from Big Sur beaches.
Bowls of sand dollars from secluded coves in Mexico.
A jar of sea-weathered glass and worn foreign debris from Koh Phangan.
Mossy branches from many forested hikes.
A dead pine tree for a Eco-Christmas party, one year in the 90's. 
And the list goes on. 

A few weeks ago while camping, I found this old stump that is sitting in the middle of my studio dutifully holding my paints and inspiring happiness just by being there, and this sculptural burl that is sitting atop a stack of magazines in the living room. Two found objects that are beautiful and appreciated. Nature, I owe you one. 

if by Liberal


Wednesday, November 7, 2012

"If by a "Liberal" they mean someone who looks ahead and not behind, someone who welcomes new ideas without rigid reactions, someone who cares about the welfare of the people-their health, their housing, their schools, their jobs, their civil rights and their civil liberties-someone who believes we can break through the stalemate and suspicions that grip us in our policies, if that is what they mean by a "Liberal", then I'm proud to say I'm a "Liberal.”

John F. Kennedy, Acceptance of the New York Liberal Party nomination, 1960.

lost + found


Friday, November 2, 2012

some stability.
hours of sleep.

a sense of calm.
the good feeling of frugality.
endless possibilities.

in motion


Tuesday, October 30, 2012

we took a drive
on a one lane road
in the country.


at slow speeds,

little hands reach out the window to pull on leaves
that between their fingers
made the smells come alive.

in the woods


Monday, October 29, 2012



I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. Thoreau.

I remember clearly my first introduction to Thoreau and that one line, that in someways, changed the path of my inner life. It was middle school, Mrs. Sobel. I am the kind of person that ties songs and thoughts to specific roads I am driving on while thinking or listening. The freeway underpass at E street. It will always be that place when I hear that line. I must have been repeating it to myself as I drove a few years later in my 65 mustang. I was studying the transcendentalists. That line, those years earlier, clicked at that moment; burned in. 


A strong longing had been pulling at me to get into nature
to clear my head, 
to breathe. 

There is nothing else that so quickly can nourish my soul, focus my attention, shake out the fog of indecision or restlessness, as being in the quiet and solitude of nature. I ran the idea by D, booked the place, packed the bags and we were off the next morning. 

The girls love being in the mountains. They come alive in a different way. 
So do I. 
It feels essential. 

porn you'll love


Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Cabin in Tenmile, Oregon.

I seriously could spend hours looking through this site.

summer, summed up


Monday, October 22, 2012

the girls and i alone on a huge beach immersed in sand drawings. this is summer, summed up. 



Friday, October 19, 2012

friday afternoon
in the studio.
angled sunlight,
nick drake wafts through the house.
the sound of stacked checkers and giggles,
someone is king.

a look back, to see now


Thursday, October 18, 2012

bathing elephants, thailand.

i was that girl.
the one who wandered the world.
the one who woke to days that had no end.
i had no constraints, no timeframe.
i was free to move through life at my own pace.


now i am that woman.
the one who looks back at the life
i used to have.
but also forward to the world i want to show my girls as they grow.
the places, the tales i already have begun to tell.

just yesterday...
while reading, may i bring a friend, "mommy rode on the back of an elephant in the jungle and bathed her in a big muddy river."
while eating samosas for dinner, "yes, i used to eat these in india and yes, i love to try food from all over the world."

i sometimes miss the vastness, the newness, the unexpected...
but with the right eyes
and through their eyes
the everyday is vast,
it is new,
and with all their many questions,
you know,
everything is unexpected.

*inspired by this, which lead me to this, which inspired this post.

the color of fall


Wednesday, October 17, 2012

via Montmarte

via A Little More Like This

via Ermie
burnt orange. 
the color of fall. 

what can you do with orange today?

lost + found


Friday, September 7, 2012

a much treasured beach shell.
three hair clips.
my little preschooler to the big world of kindergarten.

my love for the swells of the ocean.
a little red & green painted piece of wood in a sea of bark.
time for a romantic anniversary evening.
hours of solitude each day.



Wednesday, September 5, 2012

a summer evening at the lake.



Monday, August 27, 2012

i remember my first friendships.


and through watching them, i, in a sense, live them again.