Home Away From Home

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I sit perched in the Airstream doorway in the Methow Valley as I write this.  I look out past the buildings at the smokejumper base, towards the Mazama Corridor and the mountains beyond.  It’s beautiful.  It’s a home away from our home in Idaho and I’m always surprised at how good it feels to turn off the Columbia River and make my way up the highway towards Twisp and Winthrop.  There are places here that I belong to now; a coffee shop, a sandy bend in the river with a tiny cove I use as a kayaking take-out, a deep pool on the Twisp River I love to wade and fish in the evenings, the hill I like to stand astride for sunsets, the secret spots I carry my camera and sketchbook to when I feel like being alone and being at rest.  The cashiers at the grocery store and I pick up our conversations where we left them off, last fall.  The cooks at Glover Street Market know I’ll want the spring rolls before I even place my order and maybe a green goddess juice to go with.  Each of these places, each of these belongings press down on a single, pure, resonating ivory key in the the black and white of my heart.  So it’s funny to make this confession: I don’t always think I would like to live here year round.

The Methow Valley is dear to me, I consider it one of my homes, but I cannot imagine buying a house here and settling in for a decade or two.  Isn’t that strange?

  How I feel about the Methow is flittering, abstract and at times, contradictory.  I like, very much, many things about it, but there are other details surrounding valley life I struggle to tolerate.  I blame it on my extremely wild, rural childhood which has caused me to have a rare perspective regarding space and and especially high standards with respect to freedom and wilderness.

It’s hard to tame something that has grown up wild, everyone knows this.  At times, during my childhood, adolescence and even parts of my adult life, I have been downright feral!  My issue with the spectacular Methow Valley comes down to human population and density.  The valley feels cluttered to me.  Narrow and full.  Brimming, at times, with people, livestock, habitualized mule deer and fancy fly fishermen taking up all the good water.  To contradict myself in a terrible manner, one of the things I love most about the valley is the people!  The community!  I cherish our immediate fire family, the incredibly rich and diverse artist community and also the general population of the entire valley which is so special and unique.  What irks me is the very thing I love!  Perhaps it’s because I love it so truly that I am irked, or maybe I am irked because I love it so truly, or maybe I’m just a fickle puss in need of a good pinch on the bottom.  Whatever the case may be, I flip flop like a pancake every other day of the week when Robbie and I speak aloud of the future of our little family, the future of our jobs, where we want to go and what we want to be.

It’s a tricky thing to figure out, you know?  We only live once.

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Anyhow, I had a regular, good old time in the valley and stayed on with Robert in our delightful little Airstream for nearly a week while he began work.  I watched him do his refresher work (which is rather vigorous) and jump out of an airplane a few times (always exhilarating), visited with some of the other fire wives who I am blessed to call my friends, dropped work at a gallery or two and generally ran around the valley doing all my favorite things while cruising in the best-good-old-’71-Ford-pick-up-truck that ever was.  It was a restful time for me after being with my side of the family in Canada which always tends to be a little non-stop chaotic.  I read a few books which was a complete joy — I’ve really been at the mercy of my work these past six months and reading has become a luxury I cannot always afford, to the great detriment of my happiness.  I spent a couple of days at the lake, suffered a rotten little sun burn and then piled everything in the truck and headed home to Idaho for a couple of days before departing on yet another trip (details and photographs forthcoming).IMG_3668 IMG_3732 IMG_3776IMG_3876 IMG_3898 IMG_3927

I thought a lot about the life details I’ll miss this summer while I am at home in Idaho, holding the fort:

-swimming in cold, clear rivers and lakes

-5 minute drives to great fishing holes

-really big ponderosa pines (I love the excellent company of quiet giants)

-seeing Robbie more regularly when he is working base 8s and his job is more like a 9-5 giving us dinners together and breakfasts, too

– La Fonda tacos…oh gosh

-Bruce Springsteen’s V8 purr

-the fluttery, papery flight of the poorwills in the headlights of my truck at night

-wild, wild thunderstorms rattling the windows at the Little Cabin In The Woods

-smoked out sunsets over the Cascades

-gin and tonics with the girls…movies in the bunkhouse with all the fellas…night bicycle rides on the airstrip

-early morning veggie deliveries from John Button

-late night star watching through the crowns of the douglas firs

Oh…I could go on and on.

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It’s good to be home in Idaho this summer, in my own house, with my full studio building, but I would be an awful liar if I didn’t confess my heart is divided in more ways than one.IMG_4112IMG_4455

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While in the Canadian Rockies

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 “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”

[John Muir]

 

Out At The Ranch

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A Little Illumination

IMG_4410This is a short and sweet post about home decor which is something I have never blogged about in the seven years I have been posting in this space.  As they say, there’s a first time for everything!  Now, about this lamp.  I’ve wanted to show it to you since I bought it with my dad, in January.  Let it be known that the antiquing in Pocatello, Idaho is OFF THE CHAIN, most of the time.  I’m talking about righteous goods at mind blowingly low prices, most of the time.  Treasures and treasures and treasures to behold.  There’s lots of junk too.  But oh, the treasures!  My home is the epitome of eclecticism.  I know.  Everyone says they are eclectic.  Everyone also says they have sensitive skin.  These are things we women say.  But truly, my home is over 110 years old and it is carefully filled with modern, new, vintage, antique and lots of dead stuff.  It’s how I roll.

Allow me to specifically tell you about this lamp.  I love this lamp.  Truly.  It’s an inanimate object and I try not to say I “love” inanimate objects because it seems like a waste of the preciousness of that word but I really love this lamp.  It measures 50 inches in height (or 127cm if you live anywhere in the world besides the USA).  It is enormous.  The lampshade is covered in jiggly lengths of thread, I know there is a technical name for this stuff but I don’t know what it is.  I’m sure flapper dresses used to be embellished with it.  It wiggles so beautifully.  The base is a combination of cast metal, hollow glass bulb with inlayed metal patterning, and a marble slab gives the bottom of the base a little heft.  It’s gaudy.  It’s over the top.  It looks like I bought it from a bankrupt brothel in 20s Paris, France.  AH!

When my parents were visiting in January, my dad and I went to the antique shops because we always do when my mum and dad are here.  We putzed around one shop and I kept coming back to this lamp which was on super-clearance for $60 (because no one in the WORLD wanted it, but me).  I hummed and hawed about it and finally committed to the purchase.  My dad went halfsies with me though I must tell you, he is appalled when I refer to it as my French brothel lamp — because in his mind I am forever his baby girl and I shouldn’t know what brothels are.

I have it on our big dresser in our bedroom here.  When I turn it on it casts the most beautiful swaths of golden light.  Anyone who see it says, “Lordy!  That’s the biggest lamp I ever saw!”  Which, of course, pleases me greatly, for some reason.  It’s the biggest lamp I ever saw, too.

IMG_4405This is all to say, here’s to finding treasure, sweet treasure, every now and again.

Someday I am going to do a full photographic tour of my home for you, to show you all the bits and bobs here and how it all fits together to my liking.  I think it would be a fun photography project for me.

Happy Saturday to you.  Gosh.  Its so gorgeous here my heart melts a little every time I look out the windows.  I hope you can say the same.

X

We arrived.

I set my roots down gently and looked around, feeling dazed, happy and tired.  Home always seems like a process of establishing a little tension between root and crown, between my toes and the top of my head after the slack and softening nature of packing and travel.  It makes sense that I head out to a high place as soon as I can whenever we return home, so I can sink myself down deep while I reach for the sky; twine my toes around sand and stone while my arms rake the stars and moon into a cosmic heap.  Eventually I find the lovely, wobbly rigidity, like what the trees have, that allows me to stand tall against the weight of the wind here.  I’m a wisp.  It can be so easy to get carried off if I don’t have myself tethered well.

This is all to say, it’s good to be home.

https://www.thenoisyplume.com/blog/2013/10/20/6939/