change

Its been almost a year since I have written here and that depresses me. I have been some what distracted I suppose and for good reason. My husband and I welcomed a baby boy into the world on January 27th. It was the most amazing moment of my life so far and I have been overwhelmed with the responsibility of raising him, in the best way possible. I think of all the magical things I experienced growing up and want so badly to transfer them all to him. To give him the opportunity to be a kid, to explore the world around him and learn things for himself and most of all to hold on to his imagination and creativity for as long as possible. I want to fill his world with opportunities and excitement and intrigue. I want to take him to all my favorite places in the world and to find new favorite places together. We are taking him on our first family vacation next month to Florida- where i hope to explore the shops and beaches of Tarpon Springs... maybe we can capture snails and lizards and keep them as pets for the trip then let them go.. I can tell him stories about low tide and my uncle finding a cat swimming in the canal (they named him salty) even though he wont really understand the importance. We can sit in shallow water and get sunkissed cheeks and someday maybe he will regard the memories we made during the trip as some of his favorites :)

bear

I baited a bear one time. I was 13 and it was summer. it was hot as hello out side and i was half way through a family trip to my uncles house in wisconsin. we drove his truck off the road and onto a path where branches smacked our windshield. when the trees got too close and the truck got too big we stopped and walked for what seemed like days. We strung a ham up over a branch so that it was out of reach and filled a big dug out pit in the ground with sweets and bear things and leaves and i always thought from then on that bears must love twinkies, i dont though, they are too sweet. i dont think i ever thought about the hunting part just that we were leaving this bear a snack....or maybe it was like fishing and we would let the bear go at the end of the day... The next day we went back to a ham-less tree and whole lot of scratched up bark. traced its claw marks with my fingers but never once felt scared. your immortal when your a kid and invincible when you've got your uncle john nearby. but that's not really how it works i guess. i went back to illinois before that bear came along but my uncle told me that he saw her, it was a her apparently, because she was small and had 3 cubs trailing behind her. he let her be because of that and it made me think about how if she hadnt had cubs or if he hadnt really cared that she would probably be on display in his living room. i never had to face that and im glad to think that i hadnt led an animal to its death with beet juice and creme filled desserts. i dont think i would be the same today. it changed me. my uncle never did shoot a bear by the way. i dont know if thats on purpose or not but i like to think it was. i like to think that it changed him too.

A horse named Dixie

Its strange sometimes how memories have a way of leaving you and then completely out of no where coming back to you. I woke up this morning with the sun in my eyes and thoughts of summer in my head. I romanticize my summer memories a lot i think. I like to remember vacations and Wisconsin and tire swings hanging from the old tree in my parents backyard. Mostly summer meant scraped knees and mosquito bites and boredom.

Once in a while I would get to sit shot gun in my grandpas truck and drive out to the middle of somewhere, listening to country music on cassette tapes with the windows down. all I know is it is over 5 big hills somewhere that way in illinois. a farm. well, a farm house and a barn where my grandma boarded his horse, Dixie. I hated that horse mostly because she was never really broken in and once I fell off of her and i was 9 so I could hate her for that. She was beautiful though. All white with a diamond on her forehead. I liked to think that it meant sure use to be a unicorn. I didnt mind cleaning stables because when I was done I got to explore and wander into the vast landscape of trees and fields and bugs and bees. I wish I knew where that farm really was. Dixie is gone and the dog we adopted from there is gone now too. Its really hard to get a dog when you are an infant and have her be there until you leave for college and have her be gone when you come back. I like to think she stuck around to see me off but this house will never be right with out her.

There were 2 goats there too and we were friends but for the most part there was always an electric wire between us and I touched it once because I thought it was sad that they werent free like me and it hurt so bad I wanted to scream at the owners for putting it up in the first place. Maybe im too sensitive to animals and feelings and being caged. One time that goat came into the stable and rammed me against the wall though. We stopped being friends after that. mostly because there was a rusty nail in the wall and in my side and I still have the scar to tell about it all. I always hoped I would find an owl in the barn too. It just seemed like there should be an owl there but I never did see one. and then I grew up somewhere a long the way and the horse grew old some where in there and my grandpa had to put her down I guess and now my grandpa is gone too but I cant play solitaire without thinking about him and how he played every night at the kitchen table and how I cant drive down country roads without looking for a white horse in the pasture and a blonde haired little girl off in the field because I like to think someone else is having those memories now too, that they wont ever die, only be passed on to another pale little girl with grey blue eyes and scuffed up knee caps. That would be nice.

Tell me something good

Today I was exploring my grandmas basement and tucked between my grandpas work desk and a huge closet is a narrow dark opening that I never had the guts to venture into before. Its weird how you can be 23 and still afraid of things like when you were 10 and the thought of the darkness under the bed petrified you but as long as the blanket covers you from your toes to the top of your head you feel safe and secure. I used to sleep all curved up with 3 blankets on me and a dog by my feet. Now I need a blanket, my husband and two dogs in the bed to be comfortable. The door must be locked. Its interesting how fears change over time. I wouldn't say I am less afraid. Just different. The world feels so vast yet I feel like sometimes it is closing in on me and I still think I would rather live in a tree house and eat wild carrots and berries than be a slave to my bills and peoples expectations. I would like nothing more than to wake up at 5am and go fishing with my dad like we used to when we spent our summers in Spooner Wisconsin. I know I have mentioned that place before but words cannot describe what amazing memories I have from that place. I wish i could go back but Im afraid that it will have changed and that the magic would be gone. There is a Walmart there now. and that is infuriating, Walmart has no place in Spooner Wisconsin and in my memories for that matter. Some times I like to write about it and think about it to avoid thinking about now and work and school and stress and I think its therapy for me and I dont think I care if anyone ever stumbles across this page anymore because they are only getting the half of it and maybe it wouldnt make their heart remotely ache but I hope it does. If someone reads this I hope it reminds them to reflect on the good little tidbits that made of their past and made them who they are. I want to celebrate it all but with who? I did this once on my livejournal account. Share something with me in the comment box about your youth. Something that you love or hate or that is possibly insignificant to anyone other than you but maybe it was life changing in its subtleties. Like once in 6th grade my sister let me smoke a cigarette on the top of the slide at my old elementary school and it was horribly disgusting and then me and my cousin climbed the side of the building because someone stupidly designed the bricks to stick out just enough for climbing and it was scary and exhilarating and amazing and it hurt my feet when I jumped down.

blue.

Things are different now. the snow is welcomed for about a week and then it is nothing more than an annoyance that leaves salt rings around my jeans. Now I stay inside instead and dream of warm weather and when the sun comes out and kisses your skin for the brief second you think that maybe Spring is finally on its way but alas, its not even close. I stay inside and think about what I will do when its warm again. I want to spend all my time outside. I want a hammock and I want to explore with the same excitement as when I was a kid with bruises on my legs and tangled blond hair. I want to go fishing with my dad and kayak every weekend.

Ive got a bad case of cabin fever and an even worse creative block right now and I wish nothing more than for it to be summer so I can revisit things like mossy green paths in small towns in Wisconsin or to get in the car with the windows down and drive for hours to an old theme park I went to once when I was like 6. To be adventurous and to make new friends and to forget about worries and just live. to be spontanious and to have sun speckled skin.

Once, a couple of years ago, we went to a park to walk the path along the river and enjoy the warm summer day but found ourselves missing something and decided to make our own paths and what we found was excitement and that childlike thrill of imagination and spontaneity. We picked flowers that Im sure were weeds and we crawled under and over and through branches and trees and prickly plants. and we got scrapes on our legs and arms and dirt on our palms and we ran and collapsed and didnt care about bugs and bites and potential poison ivy. and I knew then that I loved that feeling and those adventures just as much as when I was younger if not more because it took me back. We peered through branches at people on the paths and smiled at eachother at the thought of what they were missing and I promised myself I would not stay on paths any more but make my own, without apology. and live.

dangling necklaces and dusty vanities

You would have to know my grandmother to understand completely, and I think they only people that know her is my immediate family. She has always been a recluse and none too friendly I might add. We were never close with them and when we did visit we weren't welcome to explore or play really, unless it was in the designated living room that had games and toys from when my dad was young. But what interested me most were the places I wasn't meant to see. We never ever went in her bedroom or in my fathers old room and rarely were allowed in the basement. I feared his room that was around the corner and the door was always slightly ajar. It wasnt until I was 19 that I finally entered those spaces. His room, was as he left it the day he left for college. Some things have been stored in there but his eagle scout patches are still pinned to the cork board, his old wallet is in the top drawer, FOID card in place. and a thick layer of dust and cobwebs told times story. My grandparents room is amazingly beautiful. She was some what of a collector of things, jewelry, thimbles and a menagerie of things. Here is my favorite part of the whole room, the house even. She has pictures of my dad hanging and she draped her necklaces on them for holding and never took them off. Please view the link to my flickr for the rest of the images. Words cannot express the feelings I have for this house.

Grandmas House

What its Like to be Dead

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be dead. Not in a suicidal sense but in other ways… What would the lives of people close to me be like? How would I die and how would those last seconds feel….and then what? and mostly the grief. Would there be much if any at all? What would my funeral be like? Maybe I’m morbid, I don’t know. I don’t want to die. I enjoy life quite a bit but sometimes when I’m in the car and feel that heart racing feeling like the car coming at you isn’t going to stop but then it does, I think…what if it had hit us. What would the pain be like? Sometimes I have to pull myself from these thoughts and tell myself to stop. I’m sure I’m not alone on it all…. its just the unknown that is fascinating I suppose. In honor of this and of Halloween and of spooky abandoned tree nurseries I took this, among others. It is not me.