There is a place in Ephrata that sells lots that are one or two acres for an RV or a tiny house. You’re pretty isolated from your neighbor. No electricity or water so you have to dig a well and do the off grid life. There is something appealing about living in the wild, at least for awhile. The quiet and isolation would be good for writing a book or reading a hard book . It would also be a good place to work on your marriage with zero possibility of distraction. The phone would not ring, no radio no netflix no news no
At first it would feel bad, I imagine I would panic facing the quiet.
But sometimes you can’t even hear the voice in your own head because of the chaos of other voices.
You have to build a fire to get warm . What does the sound of a crackling fire sound like in utter quiet?
This place that is only a few miles from here and its possible to go there and hole up for awhile but for me what would have to happen is to get dropped off and left there for a week . If there was a car, I know myself and I’d use it to get away, so my husband would have to drive the car away and with it all possibility of escape.
What a great thing to have and I bet I could rent it out to other creatives to be in a nature hermetically sealed world for awhile. I’d call it “The Big Quiet” and then it would make sense to own.
This is just an idea but everything starts with just an idea. The place is real and this could be real. Everything starts with just an idea.
Some people dread celebrating their milestone birthdays. I usually was one of those people. It’s like you don’t want to look in the mirror when you get older. You don’t want to see the progressing signs of age covering you like a blanket. Nobody wants the time to run out and birthdays are a huge reminder of that fact.
Instinctively our friends gather around us and verify that we are worth is and offer support as we look in the. mirror.
There were several aspects of a birthday party that I never noticed before. When I walked in and they all yelled surprise is just like when we die. It will be a surprise no matter how we go.
How interesting that we get wrapped presents. You don’t know what is in the box till you open it, It could be a joke or it could be something you can really use just like our days, you just don’t now what is in the box.
Cake is sweet and we all cut into it and share it with everyone. You are the cake and I hope what you have to share is sweet.
Candles blaze like a funeral pyre and the older you get ( well, you know where that is going!)
My darling friends stayed at the party till midnight so they could sing Happy Birthday on the real birthday date. It might seem silly to do that as we had been there since 4 , but it was profound too to go through that bother , but they did because each life is indeed important and worth noting
We went out to the car in the pristine clear night where the stars were blazing and Jupiter and Mars were glowing. We gazed at the sky and marveled at the heavens that we get to live under together . Candles in the sky for all our birthdays. Birthdays and Deathdays and all the days between.
A few years ago, I hired a French Pastry Chef to come to my house to teach a group of friends how to bake in the French way. She had studied in France and had quite the resume so it was a real treat that she agreed to make a house call. How she imparted her wisdom and magic to us was to hand us recipes and told us to start working. I thought she would take us by the hand and show us slowly step by step what to do but not that was not the case.
Basically she threw us in the water and observed our attempts. It was like when you learned to drive a stick shift.
You have to drive and jerk the car ound until you feel what it needs. You have to absorb the knowledge.
She talked us through the four hours we worked. It was so great to have her there to correct us along the way. Each step needed plenty of correction too.
I have a brother who is a chef and he told me to immediately do all the baking again the very next day so it would ingrain . Good advice. Sort of a get back on the horse thing.
We bought a few houses in our time. The first one was in an old neighborhood on McKinley Hill in Tacoma. The owners had it for sale a long time because they didn’t want to sell it just anybody. I knocked on the door and said I saw the sign and they let me in. I was with Susie Cowan who is my magic friend.
Every time I spend time with her magical things always happen.
The house was sort of in disrepair but it had wisteria in full bloom in the back yard and a fountain and 75 trimmed boxwoods. Each was a perfect ball shape. I didn’t care about the neighborhood or anything structural or any of the normal things you look at when you buy a house. I loved it because I felt the souls of the people who designed and built the house. It was a Williamsburg style house; probably the only one in Tacoma.
The original owners visited there and fell in love with the style and recreated it. We went to Williamsburg on a trip once ,and saw that yup, that was the style of houses there. I called my husband and told him we had to buy this house. When he saw it he agreed and we moved there from Lake Stevens.
The first thing we did was to build the serpentine brick walls.
They were in many of the yards in Virginia and we thought “how hard can it be?” Well it was not easy
First we had to take out a huge tree and terrace the side of the house. Then we had to find a million used bricks that were old but not too old, All the bricks were in Seattle so we had to disassemble chimneys there and haul the bricks home. They all needed to have all the cement scraped off and that took eons. Building the wall was tricky as Jim had zero experience bricklaying. We finally consigned ourselves to hire a bricklayer to do the whole yard. I cannot believe we collected enough bricks from countless trips to do the entire yard, but we did.
Everything was shabby so we had to rebuild the fence and the wisteria needed better support so we had to do that too.
This head was too beautiful not to get. We had to drive over to Seattle to buy it.
Some people react in horror at having a taxidermy head in my kitchen, but I am grateful to be able to have it. This impala was killed in 1914. thats the beauty of taxidermy. I imagine that the heads I saw in France in the hunters lodge were even older than mine. But my impala was from Africa and was killed by a man who owned a hotel in Seattle . Now we are the keeper of the Impala . This painting of him is one that Im not going to sell because I cannot recreate it. I can’t recreate any of my painting really, but this one is like impossible because of the way I made it. It is a painted over painting that was a painted over painting and a painted over painting with each layer getting thicker an thicker. I added the glue and jewels and practically everything in my studio to make a collage and then I painted over the whole thing in White paint. So it was a practice experimental canvas for years. I took paint remover and scrubbed off the paint and then used a wire brush to get off the glue and jewels to see what that would be like and the more I beat it to death the more beautiful it became. It was shocking to see that going at it with a wire brush would not budge the glued on things. Since I could not get them off I decided to lean into it an embrace it as meant to be. So the last step was just draw a simple line drawing of the Impala and leave it. 100 percent of being an artist is just knowing when to stop.