I was a toddler in 1956. Women wore skirts to just below their knees. My mother would take me to family gatherings. I remember trying to walk. I was unsteady and occasionally reached out to keep from falling. I saw only legs around me, topped by darkness, fringed by the hems of skirts. My hand would reach out and touch a leg to balance myself. At times, I was too far from the leg and would grab up to reach a hem. Usually I would start to fall, but an arm would come down from above the skirt line and right me until I could balance myself.
Last Tuesday, our neighbor sent a text message that a semi-truck had overturned on Highway 2, blocking both lanes. We would have to take Reiter Road home. We followed Reiter Road as it started up the hillside, not knowing if we would be turned away by snow. As we neared the top, the road was barely wide enough for two cars. Luckily, at 1 AM, no other cars were approaching us. Total darkness among the trees. As we turned a corner, the alder trees were an arm's length from me. I could only see the trunks, as the tops were fringed in darkness. The headlights shown on the white trunks. I, again, was a child among the forest of legs. The wonderment of children engulfed me as we silently wound our way through them. I felt I could reach out and touch them to right myself. I miss the women in my life. Silently there to reach down and hold me strong.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Friday, March 7, 2008
Missing Person
I stopped at the bulletin board in Gold Bar. Her face caught my eye. The page was titled "Missing Person." I knew her. At the beginning of our road lives Cameron. His girlfriend is Francis. "She has been missing since 2/18/08." The last time I saw her was in early February. I had stayed late in Woodinville, arriving home at 1 AM. Cameron's truck was across the road. I was not happy. I waited; he did not move his truck. He came over and said, "I'm sorry, hon, but we were leaving and got the truck stuck. I'm afraid you will have to walk home." I sat for a couple of minutes, ticked off because I did not want to walk a quarter mile, in the snow, in the dark. I then resigned myself to my fate, called Brad, and began to put on my winter gear. I got out of the Durango and began to walk. I noticed Francis, sitting on the ground, in jeans and a light jacket. She was trying to scoop the snow out from behind the truck. Her hands were bare. I went over to her and said hello. I then knew she was as drunk as Cameron. My irritation quickly became concern for her. "Francis, you need to stop and go inside to get warm." She looked up and me and apologized for making me walk home. "Francis, I am okay, but you need to go inside before hypothermia sets in." She said she was allright and needed to finish. I then went back to Cameron and told him to stop shoveling, and get Francis inside. I pointed out that even if he got his truck unstuck, he could not go anywhere as my car was blocking the road. He said okay and started to approach Francis. I hoped they would go inside, but had no control to make it so. As I walked a light approached me. Brad was walking down our road to make sure I arrived home safely.
"She may have left with a man named Dave. She may be delusional and not taking her medications." Francis likes everyone. On occasion Brad and I will pass her on Mt. Index Road hitchhiking. We give her a lift to friends in Gold Bar, glad we picked her up and not some stranger. She is trusting beyond reason. Two pictures showed her smiling and laughing. Cameron looked content.
I had no idea of the pain Cameron is going through as I pass his cabin daily. Missing Persons happens to other people, not to people I know. I hope she is safe and returns. How hard to protect people when they do not realize the danger they are in. We can only pray and wait.
"She may have left with a man named Dave. She may be delusional and not taking her medications." Francis likes everyone. On occasion Brad and I will pass her on Mt. Index Road hitchhiking. We give her a lift to friends in Gold Bar, glad we picked her up and not some stranger. She is trusting beyond reason. Two pictures showed her smiling and laughing. Cameron looked content.
I had no idea of the pain Cameron is going through as I pass his cabin daily. Missing Persons happens to other people, not to people I know. I hope she is safe and returns. How hard to protect people when they do not realize the danger they are in. We can only pray and wait.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Winter in the Field of Poppies
Dorothy running through the field of poppies, gradually succumbing to the feat. But, yet, surviving and reaching the Emerald city. The past two winters have been our field of poppies. We received over five feet of snow, eleven inches in one night. Our roads are not regularly plowed and I awoke one morning with a blanket of white all around. No definition of roads, rocks, or woodpile. I tried to drive out and high centered my car. It took two hours to shovel out. Brad then drove the car to Mt. Index road. All this while he had headaches from high blood pressure and pneumonia. I then proceeded to work, very carefully. The next day our road was plowed, but the pathways required constant shoveling. The snow fell almost daily since December. The world was beautiful, but not conducive to arriving at work on time.
Our power is intermittent. And with loss of power is loss of water. We hauled water in and showered at the gym. Yes, I am starting to use the gym for exercising, not just showering. I rather liked using the wood stove and candles. Lots of sandwiches and eating out.
As I try to follow a spiritual path, I stub my toe on rocks in the path. Mice are one of them. The cold spell we have every year drives them towards the warmth of our home. Brad sets traps for them. Our kill rate is up to ten, not near my good friend from Minnesotta Dawn's kill of 31, but ten more than I would like. I am reminded that I will never be a saint. Reality: I contract Brad to kill for me. This coming from the person who cried if she accidental killed an ant or worm when she was a child. Yes, my comfort level wins out over my spiritual self. Hard truth to face about myself. This winter was long, but did not have the normalcy, punctuated with drama, that last winter had.
The winter starts with flooding in the Cascades. Last year, the bridges were half an inch from being shut down. One night I could not make it home and stayed at my daughter Jessica's home, eight miles away in Gold Bar. We drove around Sultan marveling at the water rushing under the bridge. One could reach out and touch it. The bridge going to Ben Howard Road had trees passing under it. The flooding had entered Sultan, closing off roads and flooding buildings. Brad was stranded behind a wall of water on Mt. Index Road. He told me the of water was to his waist and he could see the spawning salmon swimming through it. He could reach out and grab them. His night alone, without power, was peaceful. Our home was not threatened.
Then the ice storm hit. We at work made plans to get home. Woodinville is known for bad storms. Stacey, Daf, Sandra, Jill and I headed for home at 10:30 pm. We were a caravan heading north out of Woodinville. Jill and Sandra headed for Highway 9, knowing they would be in heavy traffic and moving at a crawl. Stacey in her Ford Explorer and Daf and I in my Dodge Durango headed up the steep hill on Woodinville-Duvall road. We did not know if we would make it out of town judging from the number of littered cars on the side of the road. These abandoned cars were twisted into an odd formation due to the whim of the iced road. The road was one sheet of ice. At another time, I would have enjoyed a fast, very fast, sled ride down this long hill. Once safely at the top, we stopped for gas. The station was already full of people who had stopped for supplies, gas, and commissary. I was thinking about our chances of survival when Stacey and Daf came out of the station with hot dogs, chips, and drinks. Stacey said laughingly that we needed nourishment for the journey. Stacey makes everything an adventure, she dreads nothing and is absolutely fearless. Thanks to Stacey, I now was on a quest, not a death trap. I quickly ate my hot dog as both hands were needed on the wheel as we drove, or glided, at 5 mph. My knuckles were white gripping the wheel, waiting for the ice to have its way with me.
Lady Luck was riding with us. By the time we reached the downhill slope going into Duvall, the ice road was breaking up. Otherwise, we would would have really had an adventure. The only vehicles on the road had 4-wheel drive and studs or chains. Vehicles without those were quiet on the side of the road. In Monroe, we left Daf at her doorstep, which was still a task to cross with the snow. Stacey and I proceeded east on Highway 2 without incident. By now we could drive at 35 - 40 mph. A real treat after Woodinville-Duvall. I left Stacey at Big Bend and proceeded up into the foothills of the Cascades. My adventure resumed.
I was facing near white out conditions due to the snow. No lines or markers of the road could be seen. No snowplow had been through nor any vehicles for that matter. A smooth surface of snow to maneuver. I drove slowly looking for signs of the road, knowing a hillside was on my right and the Skykomish river was on my left. Somehow I made it to Mt. Index road, I don't remember most of it, I was concentrating so hard. Mt Index Road was a comfort as the snow forms around the shape of the road. I made it home only to find that we had no power, but it felt warm and comforting none the less. Brad came home within the hour having driven the 50 miles from Renton, mainly on the back roads. All major freeways and highways were blocked. Some people spent eight hours getting home. Stacey, Daf, and I got home before co-workers who had left work hours before we did. Brad had to face going downhill on roads that bystanders said could not be done. We were glad to see one another and were reminded once again that a day will come when one of us will not be there to greet the other.
Our last adventure of the season was a windstorm. Trees fell over Highway 2, forcing Brad back to Gold Bar. He spent the night at Jessica's. I spent the night alone with Rigel, our 65 lb Siberian Husky. There was once again no power but I did get a fire going. The sound of heavy branches crashing on the roof would startle Rigel and me. Rigel was afraid of fire and kept trying to climb onto my lap. You can see how much fun I was having. I kept in touch with the world using the emergency radio Brad had insisted on buying. I listened to KOMO 1000 all night long, marveling at the community of stranded folks helping each other. People were offering rides, wood, and food to each other. I said a prayer of thanks that the people I love were safe somewhere. Yes, I was a little jealous that Brad and Jessica were together without me, but grateful they were safe.
The rainy season is late, but has begun. The birds are singing again and the snow is slowly melting. I am ready for new adventures.
Our power is intermittent. And with loss of power is loss of water. We hauled water in and showered at the gym. Yes, I am starting to use the gym for exercising, not just showering. I rather liked using the wood stove and candles. Lots of sandwiches and eating out.
As I try to follow a spiritual path, I stub my toe on rocks in the path. Mice are one of them. The cold spell we have every year drives them towards the warmth of our home. Brad sets traps for them. Our kill rate is up to ten, not near my good friend from Minnesotta Dawn's kill of 31, but ten more than I would like. I am reminded that I will never be a saint. Reality: I contract Brad to kill for me. This coming from the person who cried if she accidental killed an ant or worm when she was a child. Yes, my comfort level wins out over my spiritual self. Hard truth to face about myself. This winter was long, but did not have the normalcy, punctuated with drama, that last winter had.
The winter starts with flooding in the Cascades. Last year, the bridges were half an inch from being shut down. One night I could not make it home and stayed at my daughter Jessica's home, eight miles away in Gold Bar. We drove around Sultan marveling at the water rushing under the bridge. One could reach out and touch it. The bridge going to Ben Howard Road had trees passing under it. The flooding had entered Sultan, closing off roads and flooding buildings. Brad was stranded behind a wall of water on Mt. Index Road. He told me the of water was to his waist and he could see the spawning salmon swimming through it. He could reach out and grab them. His night alone, without power, was peaceful. Our home was not threatened.
Then the ice storm hit. We at work made plans to get home. Woodinville is known for bad storms. Stacey, Daf, Sandra, Jill and I headed for home at 10:30 pm. We were a caravan heading north out of Woodinville. Jill and Sandra headed for Highway 9, knowing they would be in heavy traffic and moving at a crawl. Stacey in her Ford Explorer and Daf and I in my Dodge Durango headed up the steep hill on Woodinville-Duvall road. We did not know if we would make it out of town judging from the number of littered cars on the side of the road. These abandoned cars were twisted into an odd formation due to the whim of the iced road. The road was one sheet of ice. At another time, I would have enjoyed a fast, very fast, sled ride down this long hill. Once safely at the top, we stopped for gas. The station was already full of people who had stopped for supplies, gas, and commissary. I was thinking about our chances of survival when Stacey and Daf came out of the station with hot dogs, chips, and drinks. Stacey said laughingly that we needed nourishment for the journey. Stacey makes everything an adventure, she dreads nothing and is absolutely fearless. Thanks to Stacey, I now was on a quest, not a death trap. I quickly ate my hot dog as both hands were needed on the wheel as we drove, or glided, at 5 mph. My knuckles were white gripping the wheel, waiting for the ice to have its way with me.
Lady Luck was riding with us. By the time we reached the downhill slope going into Duvall, the ice road was breaking up. Otherwise, we would would have really had an adventure. The only vehicles on the road had 4-wheel drive and studs or chains. Vehicles without those were quiet on the side of the road. In Monroe, we left Daf at her doorstep, which was still a task to cross with the snow. Stacey and I proceeded east on Highway 2 without incident. By now we could drive at 35 - 40 mph. A real treat after Woodinville-Duvall. I left Stacey at Big Bend and proceeded up into the foothills of the Cascades. My adventure resumed.
I was facing near white out conditions due to the snow. No lines or markers of the road could be seen. No snowplow had been through nor any vehicles for that matter. A smooth surface of snow to maneuver. I drove slowly looking for signs of the road, knowing a hillside was on my right and the Skykomish river was on my left. Somehow I made it to Mt. Index road, I don't remember most of it, I was concentrating so hard. Mt Index Road was a comfort as the snow forms around the shape of the road. I made it home only to find that we had no power, but it felt warm and comforting none the less. Brad came home within the hour having driven the 50 miles from Renton, mainly on the back roads. All major freeways and highways were blocked. Some people spent eight hours getting home. Stacey, Daf, and I got home before co-workers who had left work hours before we did. Brad had to face going downhill on roads that bystanders said could not be done. We were glad to see one another and were reminded once again that a day will come when one of us will not be there to greet the other.
Our last adventure of the season was a windstorm. Trees fell over Highway 2, forcing Brad back to Gold Bar. He spent the night at Jessica's. I spent the night alone with Rigel, our 65 lb Siberian Husky. There was once again no power but I did get a fire going. The sound of heavy branches crashing on the roof would startle Rigel and me. Rigel was afraid of fire and kept trying to climb onto my lap. You can see how much fun I was having. I kept in touch with the world using the emergency radio Brad had insisted on buying. I listened to KOMO 1000 all night long, marveling at the community of stranded folks helping each other. People were offering rides, wood, and food to each other. I said a prayer of thanks that the people I love were safe somewhere. Yes, I was a little jealous that Brad and Jessica were together without me, but grateful they were safe.
The rainy season is late, but has begun. The birds are singing again and the snow is slowly melting. I am ready for new adventures.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
A New Beginning
A new beginning. Posts from my old blog, Briarpatch, are below. My new thoughts are above. Thank you for joining me.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
6/01/2004 - 6/30/2004
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
"There he is." Following Jessica's finger, I saw the bear walk out of the woods. He crossed the lawn and sauntered up the road. The berry bushes being more interesting than the grass. We were all silent, engrossed in being so close, only a large window pane separated us from the bear. He seemed not to take notice.We each registered his presence differently. Brad thankful to be out of town where nature is quite literally at your doorstep. Jessica excited at the pleasure of watching a bear again. She has not seen one since Alaska. I realizing Rigel's future five foot fence just became six. Austin did not speak for three hours. When he finally spoke, it was to state he is definitely moving back to town when he turns 18. Actually, he plans to bypass towns and head for the city. He loves the smell of asphalt, exhaust, and expresso.The rest of us were in awe of the bear. His muscles large, his bulk imposing - even for a three year old black bear. A bear, Mt. Index, and a cabin. Peace will follow.
Posted by: CJ / 9:29 PM
Monday, June 07, 2004
The road cuts gray through the green. Green up to the tips of the hills lining the Skykomish Valley. If I stop the car and step into it, I fear I would not want to return to the road.When my brother and I were children, our parents would gently scoop us up in blankets early in the morning. They would carry us out to the back of the station wagon and lay us down. The air was cold, the sky dark. I huddled to the safety of my father's arms.My grandparents lived in Cashmere, just over the pass. A world away to a child. The rhythm of the road rocked me gently as I gazed up at the stars. They were huge compared to the little stars that lived above Renton. The hills were dark; giant sentinels to the sky. Some of my happiest memories are of the Skykomish Valley. My brother's soft breathing beside me, warm blankets caressing me, mystery abounding. Beauty unparrelled.I drove home today and my eyes stopped me. I saw the scene I saw as a child. The hills beckon me to call them home.
Posted by: CJ / 10:40 PM
"There he is." Following Jessica's finger, I saw the bear walk out of the woods. He crossed the lawn and sauntered up the road. The berry bushes being more interesting than the grass. We were all silent, engrossed in being so close, only a large window pane separated us from the bear. He seemed not to take notice.We each registered his presence differently. Brad thankful to be out of town where nature is quite literally at your doorstep. Jessica excited at the pleasure of watching a bear again. She has not seen one since Alaska. I realizing Rigel's future five foot fence just became six. Austin did not speak for three hours. When he finally spoke, it was to state he is definitely moving back to town when he turns 18. Actually, he plans to bypass towns and head for the city. He loves the smell of asphalt, exhaust, and expresso.The rest of us were in awe of the bear. His muscles large, his bulk imposing - even for a three year old black bear. A bear, Mt. Index, and a cabin. Peace will follow.
Posted by: CJ / 9:29 PM
Monday, June 07, 2004
The road cuts gray through the green. Green up to the tips of the hills lining the Skykomish Valley. If I stop the car and step into it, I fear I would not want to return to the road.When my brother and I were children, our parents would gently scoop us up in blankets early in the morning. They would carry us out to the back of the station wagon and lay us down. The air was cold, the sky dark. I huddled to the safety of my father's arms.My grandparents lived in Cashmere, just over the pass. A world away to a child. The rhythm of the road rocked me gently as I gazed up at the stars. They were huge compared to the little stars that lived above Renton. The hills were dark; giant sentinels to the sky. Some of my happiest memories are of the Skykomish Valley. My brother's soft breathing beside me, warm blankets caressing me, mystery abounding. Beauty unparrelled.I drove home today and my eyes stopped me. I saw the scene I saw as a child. The hills beckon me to call them home.
Posted by: CJ / 10:40 PM
Monday, May 31, 2004
5/01/2004 - 5/31/2004
Thursday, May 20, 2004
The sun felt warm on my fingers as I worked the thread through the cloth. Sitting outside with birds serenading, traffic in the distance, town noise in the air; methodically moving the needle up and down. Totally absorbed.Something dark catches my eye. A spider has chanced to crawl up my left leg and onto my needlework. I hold perfectly still, knowing any rush of air will cause it to scurry. The spider is worth enjoying. At 1.5" long and 1" wide, I can see the coloring. At first glance he is black. The sun provides a second glance. A brown color swirls and dances in the sunlight. A perfect blend.All too soon, he walks over my cloth and down my right leg. I resume my stitching.
Posted by: CJ / 11:13 PM
Thursday, May 13, 2004
Sleep. Restful, rejuvenate, peaceful, blissfully, intoxicating. . .Sleep. I miss that which I take for granted. I miss how sleep allows muscles to relax, the mind to ponder, the soul to be ready. All the wondrous gifts allude me. My work schedule does not allow for sleep. I started work today two and a half hours before I usually wake up. That translates into four hours sleep. I spent this evening in a groggy fog. I will still feel tired tomorrow.I will do it again on Monday.My life has become full in the past two years. In fact, I have trouble fitting it all in. Hence, my resentment over the lack of sleep. I may work only forty hours a week, but my job eliminates two days a week of my life. I realized this point at the wrong moment. At work. I can usually hide my irritation at all the little "going on's," as my mother would say. I can usually keep from grabbing insults and slights out of the air. Not this morning. I had a fishing net laid out around me. I fish well.A resolution awaits my discovery. Tension motivates action. Action causes change. Change results in growth. My job situation is an opportunity for growth. I will do well to lean into it.
Posted by: CJ / 10:02 PM
Sunday, May 02, 2004
New life has entered this world. Azahlen Pearl arrived last week. Her little round face under a tuft of dark hair beams with anticipation. Her life will not be boring. I know her mother.I first met Kitty when she was in the fourth grade and became Austin's friend. She is intelligent, fiercely independent, with a personality one can't ignore. She put in her time as a hellion, a rebel. I can still see her standing with her chin thrust out when anyone gathered up the nerve to say no. The only word in the English language guaranteed to cause an immediate reaction in Kitty is no. Now she is a mother. I know she will be a loving, protective one. But little Azzie is in for the ride of her life. The first time she says no I expect to see fireworks over the eastern sky.My prayers go out to Kitty and Azzie. May their road together bring them closeness and love.
Posted by: CJ / 10:27 AM
The sun felt warm on my fingers as I worked the thread through the cloth. Sitting outside with birds serenading, traffic in the distance, town noise in the air; methodically moving the needle up and down. Totally absorbed.Something dark catches my eye. A spider has chanced to crawl up my left leg and onto my needlework. I hold perfectly still, knowing any rush of air will cause it to scurry. The spider is worth enjoying. At 1.5" long and 1" wide, I can see the coloring. At first glance he is black. The sun provides a second glance. A brown color swirls and dances in the sunlight. A perfect blend.All too soon, he walks over my cloth and down my right leg. I resume my stitching.
Posted by: CJ / 11:13 PM
Thursday, May 13, 2004
Sleep. Restful, rejuvenate, peaceful, blissfully, intoxicating. . .Sleep. I miss that which I take for granted. I miss how sleep allows muscles to relax, the mind to ponder, the soul to be ready. All the wondrous gifts allude me. My work schedule does not allow for sleep. I started work today two and a half hours before I usually wake up. That translates into four hours sleep. I spent this evening in a groggy fog. I will still feel tired tomorrow.I will do it again on Monday.My life has become full in the past two years. In fact, I have trouble fitting it all in. Hence, my resentment over the lack of sleep. I may work only forty hours a week, but my job eliminates two days a week of my life. I realized this point at the wrong moment. At work. I can usually hide my irritation at all the little "going on's," as my mother would say. I can usually keep from grabbing insults and slights out of the air. Not this morning. I had a fishing net laid out around me. I fish well.A resolution awaits my discovery. Tension motivates action. Action causes change. Change results in growth. My job situation is an opportunity for growth. I will do well to lean into it.
Posted by: CJ / 10:02 PM
Sunday, May 02, 2004
New life has entered this world. Azahlen Pearl arrived last week. Her little round face under a tuft of dark hair beams with anticipation. Her life will not be boring. I know her mother.I first met Kitty when she was in the fourth grade and became Austin's friend. She is intelligent, fiercely independent, with a personality one can't ignore. She put in her time as a hellion, a rebel. I can still see her standing with her chin thrust out when anyone gathered up the nerve to say no. The only word in the English language guaranteed to cause an immediate reaction in Kitty is no. Now she is a mother. I know she will be a loving, protective one. But little Azzie is in for the ride of her life. The first time she says no I expect to see fireworks over the eastern sky.My prayers go out to Kitty and Azzie. May their road together bring them closeness and love.
Posted by: CJ / 10:27 AM
Friday, April 30, 2004
4/01/2004 - 4/30/2004
Thursday, April 29, 2004
I have been changing, stretching actually, this past month. I read a reference to Buddhist philosophy that stopped me for awhile. It stated that true Buddhists are willing to look inside themselves at the places they do not want to look. This coincided with an incident at work that indicated I am not always seen by others as I see myself. coincidence? No. A lesson was waiting for me. I have spent this month leaning into it. I have been looking into the dark corners of my personality. The little girl resisted.Every day, I work at letting other's comments pass through me, not defending myself. Not concerned with whether or not I am liked. The little girl inside is slowly opening her hands, insecurities pouring out like sand. The wind whisking them away. I want to be transparent. I work at letting my ego fade into nothingness, leaving only God in it's wake.
Posted by: CJ / 11:41 PM
I have been changing, stretching actually, this past month. I read a reference to Buddhist philosophy that stopped me for awhile. It stated that true Buddhists are willing to look inside themselves at the places they do not want to look. This coincided with an incident at work that indicated I am not always seen by others as I see myself. coincidence? No. A lesson was waiting for me. I have spent this month leaning into it. I have been looking into the dark corners of my personality. The little girl resisted.Every day, I work at letting other's comments pass through me, not defending myself. Not concerned with whether or not I am liked. The little girl inside is slowly opening her hands, insecurities pouring out like sand. The wind whisking them away. I want to be transparent. I work at letting my ego fade into nothingness, leaving only God in it's wake.
Posted by: CJ / 11:41 PM
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