Monica:
Every time I step outside, I take an inventory of everything I love about this place. It's my way of letting go and saying goodbye. Today I counted among my loves this Amanita
mushroom pushing through a carpet of pine needles in the parking area just outside the Grand Fir cabin. I love the musty smell of the forest mixed with the salt air from the sea. So many things of beauty spring from this place.
Evelyn:
I spent a bit of today at Grandpa's house, doing tech-support kinds of things. We hit the Boll Weevil for burgers, then Grandpa & Pito took their siestas as I attempted to make progress with some really old computers. Taking a break from the cat hair, I went into the back yard alone, filled with memories of Grandma's garden filled with exotic flowers or blossoming tendrils and cuttings, pushing themselves into the world from cottage cheese buckets and old jars. The backyard is cleared of anything that needed ongoing attention, however Grandma's Bird-of-Paradise and the tiny rotting picket fence I have always regarded as "my fence" remain. I like how I feel Grandma here, even if most of her garden is gone; she revives it in my memories amidst the artifacts and ruins of what had been and the persistent flowers that thrive despite the neglect.
Monica:
A quick shot of the morning glory vine still blooming in Adriana & Kevin's yard. It's November and 77° outside. I love California.
Evelyn:
Inspired by an NPR article I bumped into today, I couldn't help but to add a photo of my own suitcase treasure, found in an antique shop in Tucson, AZ. Although I am not the suitcase collector like my sister, I am drawn to old things just the same. Jon Crispin's work triggered my nostalgia for the history my grandmother kept through small artifacts and hat boxes in her closet, and I found myself journeying the photography and web of links on his site for at least an hour. Just a few years back I remember hearing my family question where my grandmother's original engagement ring was. I have always been curious about Grandma's things. Even her purses were a treasure trove of nooks and crannies to investigate. I rummaged through Grandma's closet, sharing what I had remembered from one of my last visits with her before she died. In that time I did the same thing: perusing the artifacts of her life, emptying tins, hat boxes, and shoe boxes to uncover hankies, glasses, old laced pieces, delicate hat pins, photographs, and the collection of stories that followed. We found her ring, and I felt a longing for the days that I could ask her about what she had. She was quite the historian, really, and I am grateful for the little notes she was good at attaching to items she buried away. Perhaps I will photo-archive them next time I have an opportunity.
