fall rain

At long last... Rain comes to Topanga. Sweet and soft. Within minutes the old oak trees, covered in lichen have soaked up the goodness and become a brilliant chartreuse green.

Lichen is such a fascinating life form, composed of a symbiotic relationship between Fungi and
Algae. Nether can survive without the other.

The fungi stores water, and the algae processes carbon dioxide to feed both.

Hidden Valley

So... It's been a while since I've put any love into this old blog. Seriously, It's been a beautiful summer in Southern California. I've been basking in the sunshine and ignoring my computer.
That said, here is a peek into the summers revelry...

This Past weekend My best Galls and I set up camp at Joshua Tree National Park. With it's void of desert sky, egg-like boulders and sparse linear trees, Hidden Valley on the north west corner of the park, looks like a Surrealist painting come to life. We picked a spot high up in an outcropping of rocks (hidden valley) and built ourselves a comfy eagles nest of pillows and an old futon mattress and camped under the full moon.

We spent the day scrambling over bolder piles and basking in the sun. On the way out of town we hit Pappy and Harriet's. This ghost town is a former western film set turned barbecue restaurant and honky-tonk music hall, were over 50 classic western were filmed through out the 40's and 50's.

daisy, daisy

I never really thought of my self as a daisy girl, but the little patch in my front yard is so happy, stretching their bright faces eagerly to the sun, I've fallen in love. They match the simple fokesy feel of old Topanga Canyon.

Transplants

Carefully removed from the hillside behind my house and potted, wild california maidenhair fern and bracken.

crystal clear

While unpacking, I discovered a box, forgotten,unopened since my last move. It contained quarts crystals, dug from the earth with my own bare hands, near Mount Ida, Arkansas. (the most fruitful afternoon of climbing bulldozed mounds of earth I've ever spent)

Admittedly, hippy-dippy crystal lore, espoused by tye-dye clad gurus makes me cringe. But all the crystal energy healing mumbo-jumbo misses the point.... Crystals don't need to be mythologised to be magical. Through the varied, inexplicable dynamics of the universe, far beyond man's sphere of influence, erupted something of clarity and order. That's mind blowing enough.

Crystals are a natural manifestation of near-perfect geometry. A prism is created when the molecular structure of a liquid solidifies into ordered patterns that repeat in three spatial dimensions, under a precise balance of heat, pressure, and elemental chemistry. (You can still see the red Arkansas dirt on these little glimpses of essential truth.)

When formed under imperfect conditions, (i.e. changing conditions) the most interesting variations occur in the rock's shape, and color. It's the same with us, with all life... there is an underlying order, a repetition, but conditions rarely stay consistent long enough for something "perfect" to form. Luckily it's the variations, the constant adaption to change, which gives people and crystals unique character.

As the analogy stands... I would still rather be a clear, luminous, yet slightly quirky crystal, than a dull jumbled hunk of rock. We need some consistency if we expect to be clear, but accept what evolves in the changing conditions of the moment, it makes us who we are.

Wild Sage

Being a hunter-gatherer by nature (well ok, maybe just a gatherer, if I can find me a good hunter than I'd be in business) I stumbled upon a stand of wild white sage. I picked a few stems and brought them home to dry. Wild Sage is edible, and makes a nice incense. The plant can be identified by it's distinctive smell and silvery white leaves. Just don't pick more than you will use. I recommend picking just one stem per plant, as the wild population has been depleted by greedy smudge stick makers, no joke.

Ants on a Log

On my way out the door, visiting friends,

I am informed that our shindig destination is a potluck.

I stare blankly into the frig...

what can I possibly make in a mater of minutes

that will appeal to the persnickety diets of Echo Park hipsters?

From the dark depths of memory, and the meager contents of the fridge,

I have an epiphany...Ants on a Log!

It's fast, vegetarian friendly and sure to get a laugh.

Conjuring up visions of summer vacation and scout camp, what's not to love?

Its so easy to make...

Cut celery evenly
cover in peanut butter
sprinkle with raisins,
and my own addition(which makes it extra yummy and desertish)
melt some creamed honey and drizzle on top!

The pour little logs were munched up in a mater of minuets,over giggle and memories.

Clean Start

It's truly the little things in life that fill me with joy and a seance of place. My new home is coming together and I'm finding that grandiose visions and good intentions are less of a driving force for me than necessity. But careful selection of the thing I require for survival, can delight me just as much as indulgence in oddities and curiosities.

Case in point ...this beautiful hand twisted clothesline, unearthed from the depths of a bin in a hispanic dollar store in echo park. Ninety nine cents of crafty, thrifty, homey, cutesy, sunshiny, usefulness and so much more pleasing, and less expensive than a standard nylon cord. The soiling of my favorite sweater was the final straw that brought this clothesline dream out of the box and into reality, there is nothing like necessity to inspire action.

Hand washing my favorite clothes remind me to take care and pay close attention to the things, (and people) that I love.

I love folk drawings, the homier the better, but when it comes to myself, I feel like I need to be some sort of da Vinci, before I set ink to paper. It's my ego getting in the way, just let it go and let the silly, awkward, quirky view spill out.

thanks dad for your help, it feels good to pay you back. and here it is my new home!

Little House

My mother nick-named the farm house where I was born, in rural Maryland tobacco country "Little House on the Patuxent" and I'm sure Laura Ingles would have approved. A tiny tenant farmer shack with three rooms and a wood stove for heat, rented by my parents for fifty dollars a month, (including use of the the barn and fenced fields!!!) Sigh, I long for the days when bohemian visionaries could score a spot for a song, spacious in land, character, and creative potential, if not in rooms.

My Mother lovingly recorded it all for me, through the filter of her own vision and simple folk artistry, recording the substance of childhood memory with more accuracy than any photograph. This hand drawn fabric book, made to teach me the names of household furnishings, is now a touchstone with my past, and my folks so radiant and full of life. So excited to create there own beautiful utopia, chalk full of home-made style, and bohemian flair.

Man, was I a lucky kid!




This is what I've learned...

Any home worth it salt must have:

hardwood flors
claw foot tubs
houseplants

thrifty antique furniture
big trees

A good home is better with:

big porches

fire places, or wood stoves

streams, ferns and mosses

lady slippers in the woods,

hikeing trails

wood shingles

wooden beams
big barns
big fields
a chicken coop

ponies and chickens,
gingerbread on the porch beams
an old weathered boat and a dogwood tree in the front yard,
a tepee sweat lodge and rainbow school buss,
a hand painted swing set

love

and family