oak, creek, moonrise
always feels good to wander out a little ways.
yesterday after i organized the children's section at the bookstore for a couple hours, darin picked me up. we brought along snacks and books and cameras and went down to magnolia ranch for a walk and a picnic.
it's a winter world of bare branches and dry grasses, but the sun was pouring down. i had to take off my tights and sweater as i sat soaking up the glorious sunshine. it actually felt like a summer day and sweat trickled down my arms.
darin went off for a run round the trail loop. he always has the funkiest running get-up dashed on last minute, and i loved his color combination of bright blue and light turquoise. but didn't realize till later, looking at these photos, that i was wearing the same?!
it is good to hide away in the quiet world far from traffic, roads, phones, beeps, people.
i brought this book along, Journey into Motherhood, that offers journalling ideas for pregnant and new mamas. the writer's own journey is an interesting one: she got pregnant at 35 in central america while there teaching english. all i can gather about the father is that he was an italian traveler. she had not really expected to have children, and the pregnancy stirred up all kinds of beautiful and fascinating emotional responses. she wrote letters to her unborn child as he grew in her womb and she flowered into a mother. her son is named orlando and they now live in san francisco. anyway, i never really follow the prompts precisely, but let her thoughts spark my own and then follow mine into whatever territory i feel like wandering through: fears, memories, expectations, visions, dreams.
as i relaxed in the sun i had a wonderful experience: i found myself taking an inward journey through my whole life, back chronologically over each year, little by little, trying to remember tiny details that would bring clarity to each memory. i skipped back through these last couple years, a bear cub by our cabin, a walk up a mountain in july with my family, to my twenties, dance clubs and long walks and wine, to the year 2000 and camping in the cold with addie in oregon, to the nineties and my teen years, to citrus heights, 12 years old on a bike to 7-11, to escondido and the avocado grove and pomegranate tree, chicken farm and peacocks.
i went back as far as i could, to earliest memories of warm yellow light, a crib, toys, my sister, laughter, sunshine.
i tried to go back even further, my own birth. it became more of a feeling than a thought, but i had a sweet light pink sensation and the word "free" in my mind. an image of my mother's beautiful face, probably borrowed from a photograph, but evocative nonetheless and powerful.
the day sparkled. the water of the creek ran happily out to meet the river. my cheeks became rosy with the sun.
on our walk back a pale sliver of moon had already risen. like a lady ghost mother watching over us.
darin made his own creative aperture for his lens that makes the focus soft and turns light into stars.
here he is in his own soft light.
this oak and scrub land is our home. there are orange trees dotting the hillsides, creeks and deer and rabbits and skunks all making their homes in these hills.
we have heard coyotes twice in our backyard now, even this close to town. their wild call startles even the deepest sleep because they are from another world.
"everything tries to be round," black elk says. "the power of the world always works in circles."
except for the ones of him, all photos taken by darin.
my outfit: dress and sweater, thrifted in utah. tights: target. earrings: gift from darin years ago. necklace, bought from a peddler years ago. mocs: thrifted in point reyes 2 years ago.