tiny acorn dreams

dark days

Maura — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 21:27:10 +0000

Very wintry days and nights at the moment, the sun and blue skies have gone into hiding for the time being. Time for nesting inside, making soups, and taking cold wet walks in the rain and snow with good friends.

natural world

Maura — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 22:12:32 +0000

I’ve been trying to take more time to appreciate the natural beauty around me, vowing to get outside at least once each weekend. I live in a temperate rain forest, so there is always lush green to be found any time of year. I tend to forget at times that it’s such a special place. So I’m dragging out the hiking books and becoming a local explorer again.

Last weekend Aaron and I went on a little trek in Forest Park as a warm-up to this new routine, cloudy cool day, but still so nice. The Leif Erikson and Wildwood trails are very approachable, a lot of families, runners, and dogs are present, but on a day like that it didn’t feel too crowded. We finished the mini hike happy and spattered with mud.

My wonderful friend Nic and I got to spend some time together on Sunday, joined by her daughter Gemma, one of my favorite kiddos. We wanted to get out as the weather was beyond perfect. Blue skies in January, a bit unheard of in this part of the country. We found a hidden gem of a park fairly nearby, surrounded by roads, businesses, and an airport nearby, but you would never guess it. Whitaker Ponds was at one time a dumping ground, but it has been revitalized and turned into an oasis for wildlife. There are paths around the ponds, little bridges and docks, and a gazebo area that will be great in the warmer weather. Even in the middle of winter when the plants are looking stark it was striking. It was the perfect size for bringing G, she had a great time “fishing for an octopus” and picking up rocks, sticks, and anything else that struck her fancy. I’m excited to have this so close by, I foresee many more visits in the months to come.

I’ve been loving this time with my friends outside, it has been such a nice balance to the rest of my life lately. During the winter our daylight is non-existent, so weekdays I start my day in the dark and end my day in the dark. Not much motivation to get outside at the end of the day. I still manage to see some beautiful sunrises and views from my window at work, but I’m already starting to crave these outings on the weekends where I leave urban life behind a bit, slow down, and just enjoy some time with wonderful people and nature. I’m excited to have this be my new habit and routine.

twenty twelve

Maura — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 22:47:21 +0000

2011. A year of friends, of family, of a new relationship and a whirlwind trip to Japan. A sad death in the family that led to a long over-due reunion. A new home brought a best friend a bit closer to my delight. California enticed my brother and another best friend away from this rainy city to my dismay. New babies joined my circle of friends, sweet little ones that change everything in the best way. Plans to go out no longer consist of finding the bar with the best cocktails in town, instead we search for family-friendly restaurants and local parks with the best spots for picnics and swings, happily catering to these tiny humans who have so much power over us.

This was a fast year. Perhaps the fastest yet. Beautiful, fun, challenging, full of life, love, learning.

2012? This will be my year for some reflection. For making home a top priority, whether “home” is my house or my spirit, my friendships or relationship. Home as that place where the heart rests and is nourished. It will be a year for pulling out my beautiful cookbooks and using them. For slowing down and making dates with myself. For writing short stories full of awkward lines and cliches until I’m able to sort through and create something worth sending off to a kind friend for editing and commenting. For creating bad art that looks crude, ridiculous, and amateur, but makes me happy. For growing cucumbers and canning pickles. For having dinner parties. For playing “aunt” to the beautiful children in my life. For baking bread and trying out new cookie recipes. For making time out in nature a priority. For remembering that the body is a temple and treating it as such.

This will be a wonderful, full year if I have any say in the matter. Happiest twenty twelve to everyone.

autumn

Maura — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 19:51:56 +0000

Autumn. Crisp leaves. Yellows, oranges, burnt umbers, scarlets. Unusually brash neon colors reserved for tropical fish most days, rare in the somber, earth-toned Northwest. Painfully beautiful blue skies with fast-moving clouds dipping in and out, the weather changing every half-hour… sunny, cloudy, sprinkling, sunny again. Hybrid outfits on those about town, a t-shirt and beanie, a sweater and shorts, a bit split personality as we all attempt to stay warm, but not too warm, in this moody climate. Scarves abound and alternate between tightly wrapped and hanging loosely as the temperature fluxes.

Bounty and death surround us. The farmer’s market is overflowing with breathtaking produce, squash bulging with fragrant flesh waiting to be turned into a culinary masterpiece, kales showing their versatile nature, some curly, some frilly and playful, some flat and stolid, dusty green to aubergine, almost poisonous in appearance, but deliciously bitter. Apples and pears thrive, piled high and seducing the few yellow jackets that have yet to succumb to the cold, attracted to that sweet nectar smell emanating from their skins. Roots, cruciferous vegetables, they have their day at last after the sweet, easygoing berries of summer, customers now craving heavy, hearty stews to warm them from the inside and fight the shortened days, lengthening nights.

The leaves turn and drop as the trees internalize their energy, starting their sleep cycle to cocoon themselves from winter’s harsh iciness. Birds abandon their nests for warmer, lighter climates. Gardens put all effort into producing their fruits, their last hope going into the survival of their seeds and offspring, the roots, leaves and vines turning to brittle stalks and rotting mush. The air has a sickly sweet smell of decomposition that entrances us all. “It smells like Fall,” we say happily to one another, basking in the last sunny days we will see for months. Children crunch leaves with their tiny rubber boots, a joyful determination in their faces as that sound reaches their ears.

Dreams come more vividly as we sleep deeply in these cool, dark nights, cave-like bedrooms taking us deeper into that world. Hibernation is not an option for us in this human world; we must fight the instinct to slow down, to curl up, to stop moving as much. Modern day requires that we keep the same pace even as our bodies insist upon saving energy as the barren winter comes closer. So instead we bake bubbling, oozy apple pies, put a vat of pumpkin soup on the stove, drink hot teas, coffees and ciders, roast beets, light fires, pick up well-loved books again, and drag out the layers of clothing we will need as each day gets a tad bit cooler, bundling ourselves inside and out against the austere season hovering at the door. A lovely season of insulation, introspection, and lazy warmth that reminds us of how beautiful and fleeting life can be.

i love words

Maura — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 16:22:33 +0000

East of the snow-covered crests of the mountains the sky lay almost clear of clouds; save for a few last spectral wisps of vapor floating beneath the chill points of stars, one’s view of the heavens was unimpeded. October moonlight illuminated hay fields, vineyards, sagelands, and apple orchards, and the land lay dry and silent. On the sloping, dark verges of the Columbia River, where Ben Givens had entered the wold, the apples hung heavily from fragrant trees, and the windfall fruit lay rotting in the night, gathering a pale sheen of frost. -East of the Mountains, David Guterson

Writing like this is why I chose to be a literature major in college. Spectral wisps? Chill points of stars? Pure beauty. I love words.

sleepless brain

Maura — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 22:26:04 +0000

late night restlessness, i pace the wooden floors, old house creaks beneath me as i try to avoid the loudest boards, not wanting to wake you from your sleep. the cat intertwines his lean body between my ankles, excited to have a partner in his native darkness, for once not conforming to human sleep schedules. he pounces on the couch and wildly attacks a toy, awkwardly attempting to direct this burst of ecstatic energy. i snag the first book i see from the kitchen table, a discard from my morning commute, set aside for lack of interest but now a welcome companion to this sleepless night. gabriel garcia marquez and his melancholy whores join me in an empty, neutral bedroom perched above the sleepy household, his words holding my brain’s attention at last, but not lulling me to calmness or sleep as i’d hoped. my heart still beats too quickly, my mind still chases thoughts, worries, ideas around and around in an endless circle that i can’t break, and the cat continues to feed off my nervous, restless energy, now pouncing on the comforter and looking for something to maim and kill with those sharp fangs and blood-thirsty claws unsheathed. tossing and turning back and forth, wishing for a slip off into dream world but no such luck.

i hear the floorboards below start to creak, you’re questioning my absence, searching for the missing body, groggy and puzzled. i call to you and you join us, a sleepless trio while the world outside stands still except the rain and wind cocooning the neighborhood, houses in clouds. the cat whirls around the room and sharpens his claws on the carpet piling, unable to believe his luck, two humans now in his midnight world. i follow you back to bed, knowing sleep won’t come, but somehow comforted and more at ease now that you’ve found me and sought me out, brought me back from my lonely island of feline antics and melancholy prose. i lay beside you and listen to you breathe, and at some point in that early morning i finally do drift off.

my midnight companion

fortuna, ca

Maura — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 21:02:50 +0000

My friend G and I took a trip down to Fortuna, California to see our friend M and explore her new home down there. M and I drove down there back in October so she could interview and find a place to live, this was my first trip back since she got settled in. We had such an amazing weekend. M, her boyfriend T, and their three furry creatures live in a wild house that I like to call the Hobbit Hole. It’s eclectic and wonderful. G and I had the artist’s loft next door to stay in, we felt quite spoiled. Each morning M would join us for coffee and toast so we could have our girl-time. I wish we could have that every morning, it was such a treat to sit down and chat with great friends first thing.

M and T treated us to gorgeous walks in the Redwoods. It’s impossible to even describe the grandeur of those forests and trees. You walk into them and feel instantly how ancient these creatures are. Tall, majestic, beautiful, and surprisingly delicate, I couldn’t get enough of them. We also spent some time on the coast, which is rugged and striking, and a bit of small town/city time as well. The weekend went by too quickly, as fun vacations do, but it was a great adventure.

I snapped a few photos, forgive the many tree images, but I did fall in love with those giants. Thank you, M + T for a fantastic visit, thank you, G for being a wonderful travel companion, and thank you, A for letting me borrow your rare camera that I was terrified of breaking the entire time.

royally spoiled

Maura — Tue, 16 Aug 2011 21:18:14 +0000

Surprise stay in a tower cabin, bamboo groves, welcome glass of chilled wine, sunny skies, cold ocean, warm sand, hot tub, will-power dissolving bookstores on every corner, balloon octopus, vintage candies and Groucho Marx glasses, palate pleasing meals, bright orange fish flying in the sky, nap time on the beach, and a decadent dinner to celebrate.

Had a wonderful trip to Manzanita and Cannon Beach with my favorite Leo for his birthday, such a treat to have some time together after a busy couple of months. Feeling very lucky, happy and spoiled these days.

belly dream

Maura — Tue, 28 Jun 2011 16:03:10 +0000

Walking at a slow gait, that weight pulling me off-balance, the feeling of you pressing against my pelvis, my bladder, rounding out my belly to proportions I couldn’t have imagined. Your due date, and you of course were being stubborn, just like me. Snuggled in, not ready to move, turned the wrong way. My anxiety increasing as I imagined the next phase, the part where you finally enter the world and I see the face I’ve been imagining for all these weeks. I climb the stairs awkwardly, stopping often to catch my breath, your tiny body putting demands on mine as you rest comfortably in your tiny ocean. I picture you, your sweet, wrinkled face and wispy dark hair, and tell you to turn around, to prepare, the time is coming.

So many pregnancies and babies surrounding me lately, my brain must have been processing them after so many in-depth conversations, such a bizarrely real dream, I could feel every moment of it.

humanity

Maura — Thu, 02 Jun 2011 05:00:05 +0000

I managed to catch some of The Moth tonight for the first time in quite a while. It’s one of my favorite podcasts, though I haven’t been keeping up, and I was quite happy to be “stuck” in the kitchen making rhubarb compote this evening while enjoying the stories. Philip Caputowas one of the storytellers in tonight’s episode, and he spoke of a time when he was a young journalist and war correspondent. He covered some of the most war-torn and dangerous areas, and over time became immune to the violence, the terror, and the tragedy in front of him. The whole story he tells is worth listening to, he has a compelling voice that draws you in, but I was struck most by this quote (forgive me if I don’t have this perfectly down, I was scribbling in the margins of a tacky crossword book on my dining room table for lack of a better tablet):

“All of us have to share in each other’s suffering or risk losing our humanity.”

So beautifully said. And so relevant in these times when it can be easy to numb ourselves to the pain of others. I feel we all need this reminder, especially those who harbor such hatred, rage and violence against others. In the end we are all human, we all feel pain, and we should be able to find enough common ground based on that alone to harbor more peace amongst ourselves within this turbulent world.

If you are interested in hearing all of Caputo’s story you can go here: http://www.prx.org/pieces/61186-the-moth-radio-hour-403. The other stories were equally wonderful if you have the time to listen.