Moonshine Junkyard

our jack o lanterns all in a row. creating quite a fright and casting a glow on the street where cats and bats roam in the night. jorden and becky recently moved to the cutest neighborhood in placerville, where vines grow on storybook cottages and spanish tile rooftops and adobe walls soak in gentle afternoon sun. little lights along the windows and cats out for strolls, yards full of flowers and gardens and birds. we spent a cozy evening at their new house, and baby oliver got to reach inside a pumpkin for the first time in his sweet little life. like usual, he was fearlessly curious and observant, busy and focused and taking it all in like a little scientist. here are some pictures from that night. cousin alowyn was visiting and she loves pretty things and to do hair. she is quite a conversationalist too. the dogs lazily stood watch over the whole thing and later posed with our jack o lanterns on the porch. since then we've dresse

when the seasons change i read walt whitman and am happy to be alive.  a reminder to go out into the world, the real world of earth and flower and fire. to feel it under your feet, on your skin, to loafe and invite your soul and be in the wild mystery. darin and i went up into the mountains. golden yellow aspens and green pines welcomed us, a forest of explosive color and magic. it was like the daylight blew wind into our souls, fresh and cool, down into our legs and sparkling in our eyes. that is what happens. we stopped at tragedy springs. it was totally different from when i was there as a kid; i always remembered an ice cold well or water pump and some cute little visitor center. now it is just a cluster of abandoned buildings and a gravesite.  death=life, tragedy=regeneration.  a maiden's grave becomes a blooming sage, a feathery fern. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And the die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier

Don't worry! He's still with us. Still yelling for his supper and climbing up our shoulders. Just a lot more frail and bony than years past. BUT...I have a great story to tell about the old infamous scoundrel. A lovely local woman named Patsy Cole sometimes reads my blog. For better frame of reference she is the creative soul who threw this gorgeous wedding with all its vintage and earthy details back in May. Anyway, Patsy saw this post back in Septembe r and immediately made a startling connection. Over ten years ago, her family had lost their beloved cat Boris when they moved to Placerville from a place further out in the country. They figured he hated "town life" and had run away, and they sorely grieved his loss. He had been king of their roost and their three daughters loved him very much. When Patsy saw my post, she wondered if our "C.P" might indeed be their cat Boris?! My parents' house, where he showed up, was l