The Packages Said They Would Be Black

June 2, 2010 by
I find, on certain occasions, that if I dress a particular way, I’ll feel my moods affected by my ensemble.  Today I dressed like a rainbow and went a little heavy on the teal.  The results were splendiferous.  I felt whipped up and out of my melancholy and flung into the great wide blue.
I also wore my favorite grey booties while taking a garden tour.
My grey booties always help.
They’re like CRM’s muffins.
The great thing about being out and about in the gloriousness of cultivation is that things seem to come into focus, or slide out of focus, or what have you.  In the case of today, a little bit of both happened.  I managed to grasp the evenness of clarity in the realm of certain perspectives and I let a few things slip away into the ether.

My grapevines are about to burst.
Other things are bursting: 
Like the tip of my favorite inky black pen.
The fruit bowl on my kitchen table.
And the tulip patches.
The packages said they would be black.
In all reality, they’re a moody sort of gloriously pompous purple.
The formality of these blossoms is mildly irksome, slightly intimidating and awfully get-out-the-china!  
The Queen is coming for tea!
This said, I don’t mind the false advertising.  Not in the least.  I’m quite pleased with this tulip patch.
I’ve cut a few for vases around the house
just to give the iris blooms I harvested yesterday a bit of competition.
Filed Under: garden, plume gables, tulips

Back At The Gables

June 1, 2010 by
It’s true.
I’m home.
It was a long hard pull, the solo drive home from Robert’s arms to this tangled little home of grapevines and poultry.  But I made it and this morning Idaho is draped in springtime rain and the purple breath of blooming iris out in the yard.

As always, upon returning home after one of these solo ventures, I don’t know where to begin with life again.  I’ve realized that it starts with the smallest details.  I cut some iris for vases around the house.  I’ve cleaned my fridge and vacuumed half the house.  My first load of laundry is on spin cycle.  This afternoon I need to build an Ikea table, purchase tension rods for a new set of curtains as well as a flat of raspberries for some canning plans I have.  I also have about 25 Meyer lemons I need to process in some way (I don’t know what I was thinking when I picked them at the Minor household of Oakland, as if I needed one more project to deal with upon my return home).  Jillian.  Take that back.  Those lemons and their destiny will be a pleasure.  Take it slow, darling, take it slow.

My travels took me:
across Nevada
to the wonderful home of my other parents in Grass Valley
to Allison’s home in San Jose
to the home of Carrie and Dylan in the Oakland hills
to Petaluma
to beach camping in Mendocino County
to the home of Kelly and Brad in Arcata
across Oregon (stuffed full of those wild eyed lumberjacks)
to the home of Candace and Joel
across Washington to the Winthrop smokejumper base and RW’s tired mind and body 
(His fatigue taxes me and talking to him is an emotional roller coaster.  
He is being pushed so hard, to the brink of his abilities, and I’m right there along for the ride.)

I tore myself away from Winthrop (oh the pain of that) and made my way hastily across Washington and Montana
to find myself tumbling over the Idaho state line yesterday morning.
I felt the fullness of her space wrap around me twice and the rest of the road home felt like flying.  I arrived at The Gables to knee deep grass, a dead garden and a thirsty cat.  The ladies say bruck-bruck-hello. Judith is still my feathered darling, Rhonda is still a lazy lady and Winona is as wild as ever.

I’m glad to be here but already find myself missing the road and the Kerouac-ian moments and constant discovery there. 

The floor of my home is strewn with treasures, socks and fishing gear. I’ve been moving my office into the spare room and the spare room into my old office space.  Farley is sleeping on a pile of laundry.  Penelope was just scolded for eating Farley’s food and has exiled herself to the dog bed in the bedroom.  I should call her to me and snuggle her and make sure her feelings are mended.

Now I’m rambling but I’m so terribly overwhelmed by all that needs to be done today.  I keep telling myself to slow down and take all the time I need.  I’ll try my hardest but it’s always a battle to not get carried away and eventually paralyzed by the weight of tasks, duties and the business side of life.

And then there are the weeds choking out the flowers out in the garden spaces.
One thing at a time, cowgirl.  One thing at a time.  

It’s good to be home.
I plan to be in my studio by Friday.
And if I don’t find myself there at that time, I suppose it will mean I needed some more time to get settled in.
I missed you.  It’s only when I’m away that I fully realize the importance of this space and the capturing of my life moments.  I write, photograph and create for me, but sharing it all with you is the delight of my heart.

Onward.
Always onward.
Let’s hit the ground gently and fall into a smooth stride once more.

Love,
The Noisy Plume

PS  Thanks for your lovely notes on my photo posts while I was away.  It was so nice to carry you with me.
Filed Under: chickens, plume gables, traveling

Portraits of a lady and her stuff:

June 1, 2010 by
I was there for less than 24 hours but my oh my, the time was fuller than full.
It’s always good to be in the care of the Madame.
Always.
Take your time looking at these images of her country home.
Surely you’ll find yourself charmed.
Filed Under: candace, country living, mme bookling, washington

And we were drawn into the rhythm of the sea.

June 1, 2010 by

Portion of Journal Entry from May 27, 2010:

…There were beautiful solo driving moments on this segment of highway, headed North through the leaping green of Humboldt County and up into the timber of Oregon.  On one bend in the road, with the sun to my back, I swept smoothly around a curve, rushed along the flank of a painted white dot asphalt spine, and directly into a heavy sheet of rain.  I felt the truck hesitate under the weight of the weather and then stumble onward.  Blindly.  I could feel the slow thickness of rubber on wet road through the steering wheel and the fortress of forest around me seemed to bow down so calmly in the rage of the moment…
Filed Under: driving, journal entry, norcal, oregon, rumors of the sea

Rolling into Northern California…

May 27, 2010 by
…and straight into Kelly’s arms.









[Please click on this for a larger image…..so beautiful…this is a perfectly PERFECTLY captured moment…the world looked exactly like this from where I stood on the Mendocino County coastline.]











Filed Under: kelly, norcal, ocean, umberdove
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