Walk | Open Space Practice, (AKA: A Thousand Shades of Gray)

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.

I forgot: The utter glory, the sheer magic of berry season. The full measure of deliciousness and wonder to be found in Marionberries, farm fresh blueberries and raspberries and strawberries, as well as farmer’s market cucumbers and lettuce and tomatoes, real maple bars, and seafood fresh from the Pacific.
I forgot: That giant, lush roses and daisies and sweet peas and hollyhocks grow wild in the ditches along the side of the road, and in some places, the trees are so thick you can’t see through them.
I forgot: There are some trees that are so green they are almost black.
I forgot: That nothing here ever dries completely, that it’s either soaked, soggy, wet, or damp. I forgot mud and mold and moss.
I forgot: Every summer has its very own soundtrack. This summer it’s Beach House Radio on the TuneIn Radio app. It’s perfect, “If you’re fond of sand dunes and salty air,” (Groove Armada, At The River).
I forgot: Even when you have tons of good food available, you don’t have to eat it all at once, don’t have to eat until or unless you are hungry. There is enough, enough time, enough goodness. You can wait, or you can eat–either way you can relax into the sweetness of enough.
I forgot: If you drive HWY 22, you will get stuck in traffic caused by massive farm equipment driving slowly down the road towards the next field.
I forgot: The gray sky and rain will make me feel terrible, down and depressed and tired, even this near the beach.
I forgot: This close to the ocean, it’s like there is a giant white noise machine running 24 hours a day, and it’s wonderful.
I forgot: I never tire of walking on the beach, the smell and the sound and the shape of it. This space, this place is precious.
I forgot: On some days, it’s so foggy that you can’t see the ocean, even if you are right next to it.
I forgot: In Waldport, owning a weed-eater is more important than owning a lawn mower.
I forgot: Sometimes driving to the store to buy groceries or taking a shower is the only time you’ll have alone, so take advantage of it.
I forgot: How much I like the people I love, how much I enjoy their company, and how much I miss them when we are apart. It is absolutely a survival technique to forget this, because if I felt the entire measure of how sad I was to be separated from them, I’d fall down and never want to get back up.
Me and my brother (who I adore).
I forgot: It’s more fun to remember stuff with other people who remember the same things, even if your memory of it isn’t exactly the same.
I forgot: No matter how long or how well you know someone, you still don’t know everything.
I forgot: That I am never really ready to go home, because this is home too.