I hiked up to Copper Glance, hoping to do a little fishing. The lake had a sheet of ice on it so I hiked up the snowless ridge line to the North of the lake and eventually stopped to eat an apple and enjoy the views. Not a waste of a day at all. Simply divine.
The swallowtail butterflies are resplendent, a flittering wisp of my childhood. I chase after them, willing them, begging them to land on my open hand, to stick to me with the lonesome velcro of their thorny feet. The tangerine orange of the Airstream door romances them deeply. They try to lick at it for nectar, bonking into it repeatedly as their wings whir, fooled over and over again by the shout of the hue.
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It seems impossible that this is the skirt of June and eternal daylight and the rising, rising, rising until we reach the peak, the crown of day, the solstice. I wonder where I will be on that short night? I wonder which dress I’ll wear, how many braids I will weave into my hair? Doesn’t it seem sad that the bulk of summer, the heat and green reaching of it, comes so late after that long, that longest June day? I fear I already begin to miss these lengthy days, before June is even here. I look too far ahead instead of living here and now. It makes me melancholy, to be far seeing. My mind dwells on fading and eventual loss when I see life as life coming instead of life actual and arrived which is the very truth about now and here. Why do I do that? Live outside of now? Do we all do it? Let ourselves fade into the distances of past or future, instead of residing in the strength and full color of now?
I cut off all of Robert’s hair. He asked me to. It wasn’t a Sampson and Delilah situation. Not at all. Now he looks like a beautiful barn owl with his heart shaped face. Perhaps that’s why he is so good at flying, because secretly, he has very broad wings.
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I miss Robert when he is at work during the day. Moving to the Methow Valley for six months of the year makes for more than just a geographical transition. I also have to adjust to living much more seperately from my best friend and husband. It’s hard, at times, to make that shift. There are sudden, wide gaps in the structure of my life that can make things feel rickety and unstable.
“I was just passing by
when the wind flared
and the blossoms rustled
and the glitterling pandemonium
leaned on me.”
[Mary Oliver :: Goldenrod]
Everything here is a direct, boisterous reminder of my childhood. I feel I must be slipping and sinking into the gentle innocence of a simple, beautiful life; a life uncomplicated by grown-up things. The forest takes me back. We fall asleep to the sound of night birds, a fleet of frogs on the marsh below the cabin, a pair of owls in halting dialogue at dusk. If it is breezy, the wind in the douglas firs and ponderosa pines sounds like the rush of water. Air is a current of its own sort. During the day, there is the sound of ruffed grouse calling out for love, the very drum beat of my childhood. There are awkward, wild turkeys on the road as I drive down to town; the black eyes and white tails of the deer. The wildflowers! Oh! The wildflowers. The land is rupturing with a bevy of color and a cacophony of scent. I walk around with a thousand soft sighs on my lips because this is love. I am in love. I love it here.
I am guilty, at times, of working myself into complete exile. It’s just how it is. I put my head down. I forget to eat. I am grumpy and rumpled outside of the studio. I reside in this strange land of metal and gems and everything else falls by the wayside. Forgive me.
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Today: Two osprey, two mule deer bucks with their blunt antlers bundled in precious velvet and a tremendously close encounter with a white tailed deer (a doe). Also, a red tailed hawk above the twin leaning ponderosa pines on Lookout Road, and a snarky raven using the cabin roof as a landing pad. Bear scat, East of the cabin on the road where it grows thick with alder. Pizza for dinner.
I saw a blue racer snake, belly up, dead on the road while I was out running. The ants and wasps were already doing their tiny butchering. In the morning, the next day, it was gone. Nature is so quick to put everything to good use, even the dead.
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Here in the shade with the ferns, the stones are sinking. Everything in this clearing seems heavy with the promise of gravity. Even the wildflowers lean in the afternoon light, fat with dust and seed. But I, I feel myself rising.
I ran past a patch of wild rose blooming. That is the scent of pure pink.
everything about this post:
the musings.
the melancholy.
the joy.
the triumph.
the coming together.
the separation.
i miss you yet you are right here. right here.
xx
A glorious smattering of a life well lived, and well loved.
xx
you’re too amazing.
I smiled at your encounter with the whitetail and the other ones.
I also have never seen such loveliness, as you sitting in wildflowers, deep in a forest.
RW heart shaped owl, for certain.
I too, look at yesterday, too long and too frequent. I worry about tomorrow, too much.
The arrival of today passes me by, cuz I’m sneaking off alone, dwelling on the future.
I smile that you are reminded of your childhood.
To me, you don’t seem grumpy or rumpled.
xxoo
Washington looks good on you =)
xxx
I want a unicorn tee, too!
How fabulous….
You are SO right: “…wild rose blooming. That is the scent of pure pink.” That’s exactly why I grow one in my garden (well, the eastern species).
That’s a fantastic portrait of you in the wildflowers! I think it’s the one Robert should carry in his wallet!
That self-portrait with the mountains is calling my name.
Is it a coincidence that just a couple of days ago my husband Jason has begun to talk incessantly about wanting to head out West and spend a few days in the mountains? I think not. I think the mountains are trying to tell me we need to go there.
Magical indeed…I would love to live in a world free of grown up cares…and it seems so impossible…I dreamt you and your best friend before you even wrote this, which would mean it had already happened..you with the wild mane and him with his mustache…in the dream I could not figure it out. I too live outside of time…already mourning the going away of summer and so on and so on, and I have to nudge myself back to now. I get tired of melancholy and then go visit my molecules…feels like a safe place where things are always the same. Sending you love…
PS- you gave a magnificent hair cut
Such a beautiful post
basically everything about our lives is oppositely different. but when i saw your mary oliver quotation, it gave me a start because i felt akin to those exact same words for a moment here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/thehighestheel/8754765733/
i guess we aren’t ENTIRELY different after all…and it feels good to connect with you on something as deep as mary’s poetry and a moment like this. i think these are the deep connections that weld our bones when i’ve hermited myself away in my turquoise room and you’re roaming distant land.
i love you
We all do it, I think. I find myself in a similar boat, worried that I’m not enjoying the days to the fullest, soaking up every ounce of sunshine we have been so fortunate to receive this summer in Alaska before it quickly fades. It leads to staying up past midnight for no reason only to be tired the next morning at work. Somehow I feel it is worth it though. Is it natural? Probably on some level, inevitable. It is always nice to remind yourself to live in the now and not to worry about things you cannot control such as time – it’s going to pass anyway. Thanks for bringing it back around as a gentle nudge to enjoy today for what it is.
Absolutely beautiful ponderings, as always.
somehow “rickety and unstable” are not words that come to MY mind when I think of you and your life. But that’s how it is, isn’t it? we see others’ lives as solid and somehow perfect while our own are slippery, unclear, chaotic.
I know what you mean about putting your head down and forgetting to eat, getting grumpy and all that business.
sharing what you do with us is a gift. you are wonderful and I love how you detail the whole lovely world.
xoxo
Jillian,
How lovely to be in your colorful and inspiring world. Your words help me gather my thoughts and belongings as I prepare to leave for my little island, Scott Lake Lodge, on the edge of the tundra. Remember, if you find yourself in Saskatoon and would like to hop on our charter for 4 days UP NORTH, let me know. You’ll find the plane schedule on our website: http://www.scottlakelodge.com and we have a room in our cabin that is usually open. And, again, thank you for all your inspiration!
Gasp and alas.. how do you do it? Every.time you post I think ‘well that was truly her most beauty-full’ piece, it can’t be topped.. and then you post again… and I repeat myself!
Your world is so charged full of wildness and wonder, I’m so glad you sneak us glimpses of it when you can. Now, that lovely shot of you crouching – did RW happen to take it – or was it a timer… you just seem absolute glowing with peace and love and warmth.. so it almost spoke of an audience ‘behind’ the lens you were directing those rays at – maybe us?! ;o)
You’re a keeper you are.
xx
mel
needle and nest
How I love your words and pictures – they make everything so real I sometimes forget I have not been to Washington. What beautiful country. I am also guilty of living beyond the present but I find the ocean (which I am fortunate to leave very near) always brings me back. I think nature is quite amazing and grounding in that way. Best wishes, Kaylin
Doesn’t the scent of that little wild rose just make your mouth water? Growing up on Iowa farm I’d find these near fences, & while thorny & spare their scent was more beautifully mouthwateringly sharply rose scent than any florist could ever imagine.
What a beautiful second home/life, darlin’. Glad to see you settled!
Rosy cheeks! You must be so stoked to be back in your summer home~ Soak it all up and enjoy!
oh my Canadian Sister
you are beautiful in so many ways
when I grow up I want to be just like you….can we be BFF’s???
lol
this post warms my heart and makes me smile in so many ways
too many to write
just know
you are fondly thought of
love and light
So much beauty and goodness, by word and lense, I can’t take it! YOU ARE MAGNIFICENT, as always.
my birthday falls on the solstice…trying to plan something vibrant, and full of heart!
much love to you, woman of the earth! XO
btw, the items in bead sead necklaces sold so quickly, I would’ve loved to have one. Please bring them back again 🙂
The wildness, the aliveness, the color, oh my!! Seeing the Methow Valley through your eyes has opened a part of the world to me I long to see myself. I am grateful to you for this and so much more. The questions you ask about being in the now resonate with so many of us- our minds drift in and out of now I think because we are beautifully imperfect human beings. And, I’m so glad that this is just who we are- not what we are. Your joy links to the joy I look to embrace. Splendid! Oh, and I long to run again- I gave it up a few years and have been toying with it like a fish on a hook- maybe it’s time to open up to it again. xoxo
Dear Jillian,
Your writing is becoming more and more poetic. I was wondering today where I read that description about the snake – and then I remembered it was here! Your observations stick in the mind.
I want to hold your words in my hand young lady – preferably with luscious photography too.
xx
about the speed of time…
maybe you’d like to try something i did 4 years ago when i was feeling blue about time and the summer season. i bettered my perspective and understanding of time and our flow through the seasons so it all felt right instead of out of control. it helped! i may be due a tune-up, but in general, just remembering that project does the trick and i stop sweating the speed of time.
http://rebbermade.blogspot.com/2009/04/study-buddy.html
and
http://rebbermade.blogspot.com/2009/04/check-yourself.html
Lady, I love that you live a life as beautiful as you are, in and out, and share it with us. You motivate me to look for beauty in the little things in my own life.
Beautiful- that’s all I can manage to say. The wilderness and you: beautiful!
We’re all connected. Thanks for the invisible ligament to nature’s here and now…
I just wanted to tell you all THANK YOU for these wonderful and kind thoughts. I wish I had the computer power to respond to each and every one…but my internet here is so limited.
Thank you for being here. XX
It is a balm for my soul, reading about your life, living so close to nature.