Bringing living things in

In an ideal world, we could all sleep under the stars nightly, live on tree fruit and toads, and learn how to chirp to the birds to find what adventures lie along their migration path. To compensate for this serious impediment I like to bring the living things inside to die alongside me, roses from down International Blvd, loquats from the neighbor's tree, tiny cherries & peaches (?) from Jeff's old backyard, and large clippings of mint from the Wiggly House's overgrown effortless garden. Summer is bursting with female parts, fruits and pollen and bees lookin' all plump from nectar and brown ladybugs falling in my hair.

At Urban Ore today I found a seemingly limitless stack of Joan Baez vinyls: Rosie is actually mimicking her operatic croon.

The trees they grow high,

the leaves they do grow green

Many is the time my true love I've seen

Many an hour I have watched him all alone

He's young,

but he's daily growing.

Father, dear father,

you've done me great wrong

You have married me to a boy who is too young

I'm twice twelve and he is but fourteen

He's young,

but he's daily growing.

Daughter, dear daughter,

I've done you no wrong

I have married you to a great lord's son

He'll be a man for you when I am dead and gone

He's young,

but he's daily growing.

Father, dear father, if you see fit

We'll send him to college for another year yet

I'll tie blue ribbons all around his head

To let the maidens know that he's married.

One day I was looking o'er my father's castle wall

I spied all the boys aplaying at the ball

My own true love was the flower of them all

He's young, but he's daily growing.

And so early in the morning

at the dawning of the day

They went out into the hayfield

to have some sport and play;

And what they did there,

she never would declare

But she never more complained of his growing.

At the age of fourteen, he was a married man

At the age of fifteen, the father of a son

At the age of sixteen, his grave it was green

Have gone, to be wasted in battle.

And death had put an end to his growing.

I'll buy my love some flannel

and I will make a shroud

With every stitch I put in it,

the tears they will pour down

With every stitch I put in it,

how the tears will flow

Cruel fate has put an end to his growing.

Secret Slugs

Wow, it's been a busy two weeks complete with friendly visits, trips to many beaches, moving into a new home, getting a bike, and visiting Seattle! My new home is whimsical, magical, and my sun roof lets in blazing sunshine beginning at six o'clock in the morn, and does not dim until eight o'clock in the evening. It is a sunshine paradise for a homeless orchid, one squawking conure, and a plethora of dusty novels. I woke the other morning and had to bury my face in a pillow because the light so badly interrupted my dozing!

Photo 1: Dinner tonight was red leaf lettuce, sauteed mushrooms and red bell pepper, pine nuts, cucumber, basil leaves, and chipotle hummus!

Photo 2: Found this book in a knick-knack shop in Seattle, down by the water front, hidden behind carved wooden figurines and postcards to send to loved ones back home.

Photo 3: Strung some lights to nest a metal bird in, a gift from my Grandmother when I saw her in January. Hung some photos of friends and family to remind myself that this great big country is not so small. I did trek it in under a week, you know.

Portland

My first arugula harvest of spring! Every day that I can eat food that has just been pulled from the ground is a good one. I will work on expanding my opportunities for that.

Got a leek going in a little pot, some gladiolas from Salina, the bulb of which I'm sure I can eat once the flowers brown.

I remember plucking scorched tops off of kale a few times, eating chard in the middle of West Tampa, thankful

for the sun and dirt tanning my finger tips.

Summer in Oakland is inspiring me to create, teach, and get around where I got to. I'm moving out to another new home in a week and I couldn't be happier. Finally, a home where I can leave my door open and greet housemates and share meals.

I went to Portland this past weekend and had the most drizzly wonderful time with friends. The weather really does set your mood, doesn't it? Everyone in that sleepy Sunday town is laid-back. Even the community center boasts "friendly" streets and courteous pan-handlers. Well, shit, I could just move to the sidewalk if it weren't for that pesky sit-lie law.

This rock garden rivals mine: rocks from the end of the earth, from the center of it, from deep in potato-rich soil, or on the top of an Atlantic cliff, or way at the bottom of Jackson Lake and polished to sit on a dresser. I always like a town that has an entourage of jewelry makers at the Sunday market.

Sights and Sounds

Spending a lazy Sunday lounging in bed past noon after a long night of fondue and wine, making egg scramble with chick peas and chard for breakfast, listening to my Bare Trees record, thinking about the summer and what I'm going to do with myself until it warms up here a bit. The weather has been so sporadic: its like a Florida winter but its mid-May, the sun is struggling to break through the sheet of silver clouds and my record is scratching after the last track.

Next weekend promises a hazy 48 hours in Portland with many friends to speak of and the warm of a friendly hug.

The bird wags her tail as she braces the wind next to a shady spot on my pillow, drying off after an impromptu afternoon bath. Funny, she bathed right after I took a shower; could she be mimicking my hygiene schedule?

Papa San

I love the way my quilt looks like a crucifix when I tie it up during the daytime. It is so bright and cheery in my bedroom that I do not need to turn the light switch on until past 8 o'clock. Rosie sits by a giant window watching the sun pass through the day while I am out and about being the bread-winning in this family of two. To the left of the window hangs a wooden-framed colored-pencil collage made by Katie with homage to my former residence. It was received graciously. The second notable thing that has happened to me was my discovery of this Papasan chair on my street, smelled clean, no damage, score! Now my pillow patch has a new home atop the bamboo lounger and I rearranged my room in the wee hours of the morning. I always wanted a Papasan.

Saturday is the Beltaine Fest in downtown Berkeley. Have you set your love course to cruise yet this year?

Leaving work today I strode into the corner market across the street from the building and picked through their "seconds" bags: two pounds of zucchini one pound of green beans, one pound of peaches, a few apples, and half a pound of mung sprouts....$4. Yes, I do love Spring. So, for dinner I whipped up some spinach spaghetti and topped it with this bake:

In medium depth pan, layer:

1/2 C jarred pasta sauce

drizzle olive oil

5 small zucchini, thin sliced

half an onion, julianned

a little green pepper

2 tsp rosemary, chopped

2 farmer's market tomatoes (sooo juicy)

cubed hard goat cheese (non melting)

I layered the zucc first, then onion and tomato, then rosemary and cheese: repeat for second layer.

top with flax seeds, salt, thyme, pepper

Bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes.