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August Break: Day Seven

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I love Fort Collins, as much as I love Waldport. Lately, on our morning walks, we have been heading out our front door with no real destination in mind. Sometimes we walk, sometimes we run, sometimes we go to the park, sometimes the other park, sometimes to Old Town, and sometimes we walk the neighborhoods closest to us. This morning, I brought my camera with me and took pictures of some of my favorite houses.

little white haired lady ripped out the whole front to make the most amazing and inspiring garden

love the awning the new owners added to the front, we want one like that, a bit bigger and covered in vines

this is exactly what I mean by a bigger, vine covered arbor

always one of my favorites, with a tree house and detached garage in the backyard

house of god, holy family church with mass in spanish, one of my favorites

it’s hard to see in this picture, but there are so many angles and magic spaces in this recently remodeled house by the park

what you don’t know from this picture is how homely this poor house was before someone loved it enough to fix it up–love the porch they added, want one

my favorite “i will never be able to afford it” house, the porch wraps all the way around the side

oh how I love the side gate and the riot of yellow flowers

there are a few of these in town, shaped like barns, and i love them

another one

the sweetest front porch

can’t you just see me sitting there in a rocking chair with a book?

P.S. I suppose it’s pretty clear to you by now that I love older houses with character, wild gardens, and big covered porches. I love my little house, and it is older and wild. Someday it will have the lush gardens and front porch too.

Leaving Home, Going Home

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They say that home is where the heart is. I would agree with this, but the problem for me is half my heart lives in Oregon and the other in Colorado, with my body shuttling between the two. And yet, I don’t ever feel like I am living with half a heart, or carrying the ghost of another half, more like I have two full hearts residing in two different locations, but somehow still connected, like twins who can feel each others pain, sense what the other is experiencing.

This morning I discovered that other than the first day of July, when I correctly wrote “7-1-12” in my journal, I’ve been dating every entry with a “6” and thus giving myself a whole extra month of June. With the weather here at the coast never getting much warmer than mid-60s, you could almost believe in two Junes.

Cape Foulweather

But now it’s time to go back, to temperatures in the high 90s, to a place that was on fire when we left and is now in the thick of sadness, confusion, and anger brought on by another kind of tragedy. Yesterday, all I wanted to do was watch HGTV and sleep, which is rare. I hardly ever watch that much TV anymore–when I am “sick” maybe (too depressed and tired to get dressed and leave the house, barely able to get out of bed), but I haven’t been that for a long time now. This post from Jennifer Louden helped yesterday, “Ways to Channel Fear and Sadness,” reminded me of what I already know to be true. She ends the post with this: “We are human and fragile and afraid – together.  Never alone, my friend, never alone.”

Later in the day, I even found myself smiling a little.

There are a lot of lasts today: last full day at the beach, last sleep in this house, last farmer’s market, last serving of marionberry cobbler (*sob*). Walking on the beach this morning, talking about how this last month went by so fast (the kind of talk that always reminds me of this post on A Design So Vast, where Lindsey’s daughter says to her “When you’re in them, days take a long time.  But then when you look back they went really fast”–brilliant, and exactly…), I asked Eric “how do you get your life to slow down?”

Farmer’s Market this morning in Newport, our last one

Eric answered: less internet, less tv, less feeling like you have to be “on,” checking in and connected. I know from practice that slowing down is about relaxing into the moment, remaining present, surrendering, no judgement or rejection, no plans or control or even hope. Let go. Give up your agenda. Pay attention. Breathe. It’s simple, but we make it so hard.

South Beach, south of Newport, where we walked/ran this morning while being chased by 100 mosquitoes trying to eat us

Much love to you, kind and gentle reader. I have a post for tomorrow, but won’t be doing a Something Good list this week, as we’ll be on the road to Colorado, moving from this home to that one.