i went, and cast no shadow in the shadow of the wood."
edna st.vincent millay
overnight everything turned rainy and cold and cozy. i spent the day in rainboots and calico, exploring and wondering and reading poetry like in a dream and could not remember where i was headed and felt like i was twisted in gypsy mist. i spent the thundering afternoon at a wood paneled pub in the pines with plates of sherpherds pie and pitchers of beer and pool tables. we were celebrating a baby's birth; we were celebrating leavetaking and springtime, new life and the refreshing of earth and the swelling of waters. i spent the night at a campground by the river and awoke early to hail on the tin roof, patches of sun and shadow, starlings and hummingbirds and wild geese calling their tiny babies to follow. i sat on the deserted terrace over the wide slow river taking branches, soil, birds, fish, bramble and berry for rides to secret swirling coves.
and i listened to forest songs and made another mix tape and thought about things that have happened that will never happen again and animals i've loved and strange and mysterious sights i have seen.
have you all seen the 1978 movie Pretty Baby?
addie has been telling me about it for years and finally darin and i watched it.
i directly fell in love with the lush new orleans ambience, and you all know i fancy old brothels.
the hats, slips, corsets, bloomers, petticoats, stockings, eyelet lace and cleavage...i was dying.
the subject matter is somewhat difficult. brooke shields plays 12-year-old Violet, growing up in the brothel with her mother's (a glorious Susan Sarandon) nonchalant guidance.
saucy young Violet is over sexualized and objectified, and the film doesn't seem overly concerned about that fact. i kind of appreciated that indifference, as if glimpsing some other world with a completely different set of values, without judgment. however the scenes are shown with such grace and beauty that you get the feeling the director Louis Malle was somehow getting off on the whole thing. i guess that's what i found a tad disturbing.
if you've seen it, did it bother …
"This is my lake country."
I quote Thoreau, who references Wordsworth. "They are great crystals on the surface of the earth, Lakes of Light."
I posted about our trip to Twin Lakes last year, which doesn't even seem that long ago, and was only about six posts ago given the irregularity of my presence here. But it truly is something that brings me bliss, and it seems that around the seventh week of the school semester I start to crave it desperately.
"Talk of heaven! ye disgrace earth."
It was Addie's idea this time to go again, and maybe make it a yearly tradition, and we went in July, right before Lucy's birthday again: Pops, Joey, Scout, Addie, Art, Utah, me and the girls. Darin couldn't come, and I'm more confident now; I think I did a pretty great job with the girls and our gear, driving and camping together.
Course I always have Pops and Fofe to back me up.
"This was an airy and unplastered cabin, fit to entertain a travel…
i want this to be us so bad...rollin away in a fairytale bus made of wood and wheels, porch and books.
this is from another book in the series of rad 70s handmade house books that i've written about before and missa wrote about here (raddest houseboats ever, ever, ever)
this one is all about handmade hippie houses on the road.
we have it at the bookery in the locked case; it's a collectible and thus way out of my price range.
but i still get to look at its gloriousness.
these photos of the pages look much better than mine, found in this wonderful little delight here, check these caravans out:
standing in the mist with its little terra cotta pots and windowpanes,
killing this fairytale heart a mine.
i can picture joey and emily in this one, our neighbors.
and this one can house addie and art, and we'll drive cross the prairies together.
this covered-wagon one seems the most fun of all.
roll back the canvas and sleep under the stars.