soften your focus, widen your eyes & gaze into the heart of wonder.

may it bring you peace.

mid-january seems like the perfect time for a riotous display of color. don’t you agree?

so, i am pulling one from the archives. and who knows – in the southern hemisphere, tulips might actually be blooming.

tulips are one of the things i miss the most about the pacific northwest. they are a bright pop of color in the mid-winter gloom.

i seem to have an affinity for tulips. there are tulip fields in michigan too. unfortunately, these fields are ten hours away (instead of one), but someday i will see them.

once, i had a layover in amsterdam during tulip season. i still think: if only. if only there had been enough time to sneak away and visit the tulips.

just look at them! i am smiling away over here.

(i closed my eyes and asked the tulips if they had a message for you. it was this, “sing, dear ones, sing.”)

almost every day in oregon, my pup and i went for a walk in the park near our house. in the middle of the park was a large grassy field.

in the winter, the field was full of puddles, mud, and the occasional duck. in the summer, the field was full of children playing soccer, sunbathers, and dogs chasing balls.

one day – i’m not exactly sure when it began – i heard a small sound while i was walking on the path around the field.

i wish i knew how to describe it to you. the best i can do is to say that it was a combination of crackling ice + whispers + rustling.

i stood still for a moment and listened, trying to determine where the sound originated.

eventually, i realized the sound was coming from the grass.

i began to pay attention and to listen whenever i was in the park.

i heard the sound in the morning, when the dew was fresh on the grass. i also heard it in the afternoon, on grey days, just after a light rain.

i grew to love the sound. it was as if the grass was whispering secrets, secrets that, if i only listened closely enough, i would be able to hear.

one grey afternoon, while i stood listening, i heard a single word.

“run!”

i ignored it, thinking it was my imagination, but then i heard it again.

“run!”

i wondered if the grass was talking to me. if, in fact, it was, i was afraid to listen. i was afraid that my feet might hurt it.

“run!” i heard again. “that’s what we’re made for!”

i took off my shoes and socks and walked into the field.

the grass caressed the bottoms of my feet and tickled the sides of my toes. the earth was firm and supportive beneath me.

then i ran, following the lead of my dog, who hadn’t waited for an invitation. i watched as the grass bent low beneath my footsteps and bounced back up again.

when i stopped to catch my breath, i heard the sound again.

it was louder this time, and full of laughter.

i threw back my head and laughed too.

the grass stains remained on my feet for days. they reminded me of an invitation – extended and accepted.

{this particular story is true, unlike most of the stories in the story club, but the essence is the same.}

on saturday, atlas turned 11, so i thought it would be fun to wander through his life in pictures.

and so it begins.

2003: i have a new puppy! this is a year that includes surgery (for me), parvo (for him), and the love + fun + adventure + growing pains of our new life together.

2004: this is a year that includes training, daily adventures, trips to sheep dung estates & san diego, and a move from sacramento to folsom.

2005: this is a year that includes more training, more daily adventures, and the pleasure + pain of both a jackrabbit chase & a squirrel catch.

2006: this is a year that includes a move to oregon, a road trip to seattle, camping, hikes, time at the oregon coast, and the beginning of an annual corn maze tradition.

2007: this is a year that includes a road trip to seattle, a road trip to michigan, an adventure in colorado, and fun dog + person classes.

2008: this is a year that includes lots of time at the oregon coast, an autumn trip to detroit lake, the first kitty-friend for a kitty-obsessed puppy, and many more daily adventures.

2009: this is a year that includes the call of the wild dog camp, lots of hiking, more fun dog + person classes, and more daily adventures.

2010: this is a year that includes a new dog-friendly work environment (meaning: i leave my job to be my own employer) and a road trip to the central oregon coast.

2011: this is a year that includes a road trip to the olympic peninsula and many many many daily adventures.

2012: this is a year that includes hikes, adventures, and three months on the couch due to a fractured puppy toe.

2013: this is a year that includes a move to michigan, an adventure in north dakota, a hike up a mountain, encounters with deer + bear poop + foxes + partridge, an arctic-like winter, a household that always seems to have meat + gravy, and many many daily adventures.

happy birthday, atlas!

i love you more than all the stars in the sky & all the fish in the sea, and i am beyond grateful for every single one of our years together.

“Where round the bed, whence Achelous springs, That wat’ry Fairies dance in mazy rings.”

~ Homer, Iliad

“The wall is silence, the grass is sleep,
Tall trees of peace their vigil keep,
And the Fairy of Dreams with moth-wings furled.
Plays soft on her flute to the drowsy world.”

~ Ida Rentoul Outhwaite

“Like legend and myth, magic fades when it is unused — hence all the old tales of elfin kingdoms moving further and further away from our world, or that magical beings require our faith, our belief in their existence, to survive. That is a lie. All they require is our recognition.”

~ Charles de Lint

as i prepare to turn off my computer and hit the road, i thought i’d share two photos of our day yesterday.

we spent almost all of it at the auto repair shop and the tire shop, waiting for serendipity to be made road-worthy (apparently, she was most definitely not). i had a million other things to do, and at first was worried about the cost and the lost hours, but it wound up being a day full of good conversation, a walk with atlas, and camera play with the fountain (something i have always been meaning to do, only it was always full of children).

and everything i needed to do still got done anyway, plus there was time for a spontaneous goodbye dinner with a friend.

atlas was the most patient wait-er ever. i adore him times a million and seventy four three twenty-seven. i have decided that moving without a dog is easier and possibly slightly more enjoyable, but i wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world and i am so glad that he is here for our adventure.

i leave you with a wish for moments of sweetness and magic, particularly when they are least expected.

if you’re wondering what i am up to over here, i am thinking about packing and writing a love letter to oregon. at my current pace, both items will be done in my next lifetime, and i will be all out of tears.

(just to be clear, i am still excited about going. i am just sad that it means leaving oregon, and it is better for me to feel the sadness when it comes up than to squash it.)

at any rate, i am in the mood for something lighthearted.

as far as i am concerned, a day with a ferris wheel to photograph is a very good day.

i took this photo last month, when the county fair was in town. you know what i just realized? while i was there, i was trying to decide whether it was smaller or larger than the county fair in my hometown. little did i know i might have the chance to compare them. this one did not have an entrance fee, so it might be the overall winner.

i ate a deep-fried twinkie while i was there. it was delicious; it tasted like a donut. i am marking that item as complete on my life list. next up, i think, is a deep-fried oreo.

have you eaten one of those unexpected deep-fried concoctions that are popular at fairs? how was it? should i add it to my list?

th-th-th-at’s all for now, folks!

this is golden hour on one of both atlas and my favorite places in the world: the wildwood trail in forest park.

atlas is so funny. whenever i stop to take pictures, and i’m there for a while, he comes back to check out what i’m doing. usually, he is unimpressed and continues on again.

yesterday, i started writing a blog post titled “10 things you can do when the irs is knocking at your door”, because it made me giggle.

who knows, i may still finish and share it, but the moment is not right. i do, however, want to say that i am in what could best be described as a financial implosion.

one of the things i don’t talk about is money. not because i don’t like talking about it, because i actually do. i find money and personal finance to be interesting and fascinating and relevant. if there’s a book on money out there, i’ve probably read it. (years ago, i spent one birthday weekend at a cabin with atlas, eating angel food cake and chocolate pudding while reading every single rich dad poor dad book. now that is my idea of birthday fun. oh! i also own the rich dad cashflow game. i always forget about it – i haven’t played it in years – but it is so much fun.)

i also think that money is a topic that could use a great many more open and honest discussions. (i used to belong to a discussion board where people shared everything about money, up to and including numbers. it was the most fascinating board ever.)

at its core, money is simply a means of exchange, something we created to be of use. it is not inherently good or bad. the only value it has is what we ourselves apply to it – and that value is really only a story.

somehow, over the years, we seem to have given away much of our power to money; it can cause us to feel guilty and ashamed and irresponsible and to apply judgment to ourselves and others. this seems so strange because really, things are the way they are; they got there the way they got there; what’s right for one person is wrong for another; and our financial situation says nothing about our worth and value.

along with many other things, i think that talking about money is one of the ways we bring light into all the dark places and change this for the better.

i mostly don’t talk about money because it hasn’t popped into my head as a thing to talk about. or in this case, because i realized that i like people to buy my stuff because they love it and want it and the time is right, not because they are worried about me. but that, i decided, is a silly thing to worry about, because i always trust that you will do what’s right for you.

and it turns out that i do want to share where i’m at. not so that you will worry about me, or because i want or need sympathy. just because it is where i’m at and it feels important to share.

i must confess that this year has quite possibly been my hardest year yet. for two entirely different reasons. but inspiration and intuition have not led me to talk about them, so i do not.

and yet, the hard has been full of its own particular beauty, and i would not wish it away. i find that i am filled with even more love for myself, my sense of worth is more solid, and i am more and more able to access joy & possibility & wonder in moments when i would have previously thought them well out of reach.

what i feel moved to say today is this:

be gentle with yourself. if and as you can.

it’s hard to be alive sometimes. but you are doing a darn good job at it.