And it stoned me to my soul

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where I do not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

~Pablo Neruda - my favorite Chilean poet

Eleven years ago, today, I met my Warren. I knew from the second I met him that he was the man I would be with for double infinity. In fact, I felt like I had known him before, maybe in previous lives. Here's how the story of my life began.

I was finishing my 3rd year at PSU, living on campus and driving regularly out to Hillsboro to visit my sister and only friend in Oregon. I had been out at my sister's house that Friday, June 9, 1998. We had worked out in her apartment gym, made a couple of drinks, and had chatted about our lives. Finally, I decided it was time to go home. As I pulled back into the PSU parking lot, I got out of my car and bent down to tie my shoes. Afterwards, I started to head towards my apartment when I suddenly felt a strong pull to go the other way. I turned around and walked towards the Ione Lounge across the street. What was I doing? I was going to go get a drink. But wait, I couldn't go into a bar alone, or could I?

However, the force that was pushing me was not to be reckoned with so I entered the bar and ordered a drink. As I sat at the bar, realizing I was a complete idiot for coming in here alone, I decided to down my drink and get the heck outta there. Just as I was about to do so, I heard a voice say my name. I turned around and it was Marty - another student co-worker on campus. He was excited to see me because he was graduating tomorrow and his cousins from California had just gotten into town. In fact, they were here and he wanted me to meet them. I told him I was just leaving, but in true Marty fashion, he ignored my plea and grabbed my drink, urging me to follow him. Well, shit, I'd get this over with so I could go home.

Once we reached the pool tables, Marty handed me my drink and introduced me to David who was playing video lottery. David quickly turned around and waved a hello. Then Marty interrupted a pool game to introduce me to Warren. That was when my whole universe shifted. Warren turned around to greet me and shake my hand. I was immediately entranced with his smile, his aura, his vibe, his eyes and unbelievably his heart.

Right away we began talking. Marty left to take his wife Chris home while we continued to talk. Warren says that day was the only day in his life that he ever discontinued a game of pool. When Marty came back, we decided we'd all go out for a midnight breakfast but the cafe next door was closed. Very, very reluctantly, we said goodbye to eachother. I walked home feeling flushed, alive and wondering how I was going to find Warren the next day because I knew he was in town until Sunday and he was staying at Marty's apartment on campus.

The next day was graduation day. I arose early and walked all over campus hoping to 'run into' Warren. No such luck. Later that evening, I attended a graduation party in the building where Marty resided. Urgently, I kept running downstairs to see if I would see him walking by. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Warren actually did walk by! My heart pounded as he walked up to me, recognizing me from the night before. We talked for a bit as he was with Marty and others. Then he said he'd be at the Ione later that night and I said I'd meet him there later.

I resumed hanging with my friends, helping prepare an exotic Iranian meal that was taking way too long to cook. Finally, after an unbearable wait, I was able to get away around midnight. I ran and ran the two blocks to the Ione. What if he wasn't there? I was so late. As luck would have it, he was there. Apparently, everyone had been wanting to leave for some time but he had urged everyone to stick around just a little bit longer. When I got there, he made introductions and everyone left to go to bed.

Warren and I left together and bought some beer. We sat on campus and drank beer, smoked cigarettes and talked for hours. It was so easy to talk to him. His smile made me at ease and the way he opened his heart when he spoke to me, I could not help but think I was falling in love with this man. Eventually, he walked me back to my apartment where he asked for my phone number. Of course I didn't have a pen so I invited him in (imagine that!). In my apartment, I played all my favorite blues CD's while we talked about our lives, our past loves, our families, our dreams, our friends, and everything under the sun. Well, we didn't exchange numbers until 3 hours later in the wee hours of the morning when we decided we had better call it a night. Everything in me wanted to kiss him but instead we wrapped our arms around eachother and said goodnight.

He flew back to California later that morning but we ended up talking on the phone to eachother that evening. I called my mom to inform her that I had met the man I was going to marry. I met up with my sister the next day to share the details of this man that had stoned me down to my soul. It was like our lives were two trains that ran parallel but had finally intersected and become one.

So to make this long, long story short, after a brief visit in July, months of phone calls and emails to eachother, dealing with my phone being turned off for lack of payment of the high bill, Warren moved up here later that fall. As we hopped on the love train together, the wheels of life began to turn and we held hands knowing that from here on out, our journey in life to various destinations would not be alone. Knowing and loving this beautiful man has stoned me to my soul.

And it stoned me to my soul

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where I do not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

~Pablo Neruda - my favorite Chilean poet

Eleven years ago, today, I met my Warren. I knew from the second I met him that he was the man I would be with for double infinity. In fact, I felt like I had known him before, maybe in previous lives. Here's how the story of my life began.

I was finishing my 3rd year at the university, living on campus and driving regularly out to the 'burbs to visit my sister who also happened to be my only friend in Oregon. I had been out at my sister's house that Friday, June 9, 1998. We had worked out in her apartment gym, made a couple of drinks, and had chatted about our lives. Finally, I decided it was time to go home. As I pulled back into the university parking lot, I got out of my car and bent down to tie my shoes. Afterwards, I started to head towards my apartment when I suddenly felt a strong pull to go the other way. I turned around and walked towards the Ione Lounge across the street. What was I doing? I was going to go get a drink. But wait, I couldn't go into a bar alone, or could I?

However, the force that was pushing me was not to be reckoned with so I entered the bar and ordered a drink. As I sat at the bar, realizing what a complete idiot I was for coming in here alone, I decided to down my drink and get the heck outta there. Just as I was about to do so, I heard a voice say my name. I turned around and it was Marty, my co-worker on campus. He was excited to see me because he was graduating the next day and his cousins from California had just gotten into town. In fact, they were here and he wanted me to meet them. I told him I was just leaving, but in true Marty fashion, he ignored my plea and grabbed my drink, urging me to follow him. I resolved to get this over with quickly so I could go home.

Once we reached the pool tables, Marty handed me my drink and introduced me to his cousin David who was playing video lottery. David quickly turned around and waved a friendly hello. Then Marty interrupted a pool game to introduce me to Warren. That was when my whole universe shifted. Warren turned around to greet me and shake my hand. I was immediately entranced with his smile, his aura, his vibe, his eyes and unbelievably his heart, yes his heart. I could see through his eyes and into his soul. Later in our courtship he would tell me his grandmother said the exact same thing.

Right away we began talking. Marty left to take his wife Chris home while we continued to talk. Warren says that day was the only day in his life that he ever discontinued a game of pool. When Marty came back, we decided we'd all go out for a midnight breakfast but the cafe next door was closed. Very, very reluctantly, we said goodbye to eachother. I walked home feeling flushed, alive and wondering how I was going to find Warren the next day because I knew he was in town until Sunday and he was staying at Marty's apartment on campus.

The next day was graduation day. I arose early and walked all over campus hoping to 'run into' Warren. No such luck. Later that evening, I attended a graduation party in the building where Marty resided. Urgently, I kept running downstairs to see if I would see him walking by. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Warren actually did walk by! My heart pounded as he walked up to me, recognizing me from the night before. We talked for a bit but he was on his way out with his cousins. Then he said he'd be at the Ione later that night and I said I'd meet him there later.

I resumed hanging with my friends, helping prepare an exotic Iranian meal that was taking way too long to cook. Finally, after an unbearable wait, I was able to get away around midnight. I ran and ran the two blocks to the Ione. What if he wasn't there? I was so late. As luck would have it, he was there. Apparently, everyone had been wanting to leave for some time but he had urged everyone to stick around just a little bit longer. When I got there, he made introductions and everyone but the two of us left to go to bed.

Warren and I left together and bought some beer. We sat outside on campus and drank beer, smoked cigarettes and talked for hours. It was so easy to talk to him. His smile made me at ease and the way he opened his heart when he spoke to me, I could not help but think I was falling in love with this man. Eventually, he walked me back to my apartment where he asked for my phone number. Of course I didn't have a pen so I invited him in (imagine that!). In my apartment, I played all my favorite blues CD's while we talked about our lives, our past loves, our families, our dreams, our friends, and everything under the sun. Well, we didn't exchange numbers until 3 hours later in the wee hours of the morning when we decided we had better call it a night. Everything in me wanted to kiss him but instead we wrapped our arms around each other and said goodnight.

He flew back to California later that morning but we ended up talking on the phone to each other that evening. I called my mom to inform her that I had met the man I was going to marry. I met up with my sister the next day to share the details of this man that had stoned me down to my soul. It was like our lives were two trains that ran parallel but had finally intersected and become one.

So to make this long, long story short, after a brief visit the next month and following months of phone calls and emails to each other, dealing with my phone being turned off for lack of payment because of the high bill, Warren moved up here later that fall. As we hopped on the love train together, the wheels of life began to turn and we held hands knowing that from here on out, our journey in life to various destinations would not be alone. Knowing and loving this beautiful man has stoned me to my soul.

Coolin Off Doggie-Style

What other way is there to properly cool off on a hot summer's day?


Bettis, Tahoe & Huck

Big Bettis

Baby Bettis

Food of the Earth

The greatest delight the fields and woods minister is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me and I to them. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I used to visit and revisit it a dozen times a day, and stand in deep contemplation over my vegetable progeny with a love that nobody could share or conceive of who had never taken part in the process of creation. It was one of the most bewitching sights in the world to observe a hill of beans thrusting aside the soil, or a rose of early peas just peeping forth sufficiently to trace a line of delicate green. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mosses from and Old Manse

This spring I was lucky enough to get a garden plot in the PSU community garden. I got the last plot. My luck turned out to be a mixture of missed emails, turnover in the community garden coordinator position and my good-natured persistence. Turns out the person who had the plot previously had dropped out of school, but had already weeded and prepped the garden plot, leaving me with much less preparation.

So of course, I can't go this alone, I gotta share the love right? I spread the word around my office to see if anyone is interested. Turns out 5 others have the gardening bug, too! It's worked out really good. Over the course of a week or so we got quite a good collection going of plants - tomatoes, kale, marigolds (won at a conference). Then we got $ donations from others in the office and a trip down to the farmer's market added more tomatoes, chives, eggplant, peppers and cucumbers.

Planting day arrived and we trudged down to the garden toting our boxes and bags of veggie starts. Working together, on our knees and in our work clothes, as we planted we discussed ideas for care of the plants, where to put each plant, what else we needed, exchanged knowledge of previous gardening experiences and agreed we'd split up the week amongst eachother to divvy out watering duties. I really enjoy watering duty.

It's the anticipation as I walk or drive to the garden, wondering how it is doing and growing. Then it's the excitement once I arrive to view what has happened since I was there last. Early in the season, what captures my attention is the minute yet incredible growth of each baby plant and seeing the basil and bush bean seeds finally sprout through the dirt. The progress of each plant is captivating. This weekend there were two little green tomatoes on the baby vine and bees busily pollinating the flowers.

As I water, I get lost in my thoughts and as I weed and fix up the hills and moats, I feel grounded and content with my hands in the dirt. I remind myself that I need to get onions going and more chives. Eventually it's obvious there is nothing else for me to do there, even though I was in a hurry in the beginning, I now don't want to leave. After one last look, I say good bye and leave the garden, locking the gate behind me. It's going to be fun being a gardener of edibles. Plus it's good practice because I have a huge plot on a waiting list for next year at a community garden near our house. Every step is the way and takes me a little closer to my ultimate goal of eating my own home grown.

Cowboy TV

To poke a wood fire is more solid enjoyment than almost anything else in the world.

~Charles Dudley Warner (also quoted by Warren Guenther)

Spring, Summer, Fall, and the early part of Winter is spent in our backyard around the fire pit. I can't tell you how many get-to-gethers we have had that always ended in half-toasted people sitting around our firepit telling stories. If firepits could talk...

Warren and I lived downtown in an 1920's apartment complex on campus for many years. To experience campfires, we'd pack up our cars and head down to the nearest campground to town which was about 30 minutes away. Even on week nights, we'd order a pizza and head out to camp. An alarm would alert us early in the morning that it was time to head back into town so we could get showered and get to work and school. That ritual lasted until we eventually we moved across the river and officially became South-Easters.

We had our first deck and real backyard. One afternoon, soon after we moved, we took a drive back downtown, nostalgic for the good old downtown days. We found a garage sale in one of the downtown neighborhoods. What actually drew us to this sale was the perfect sized kitchen table but what we saw when we got closer was a black metal fire pit with sides and lid, like the $200+ ones you see at Home Depot stores. The lady of the garage sale told us we could have the table and the fire pit for $20. We handed her the money and loaded our stuff as quickly as we could into the truck before she could change her mind! On our way home, we picked up free pallet boards to burn. That night, under a cool spring moon, we had our first fire in the backyard. Our hats and vests kept us extra warm as we talked about never needing to go camping again now that we had our own little campground exclusively with a fire pit.

That fire pit has warmed up many people and has heard endless stories. It lighted up parties with friends and families as we celebrated our engagement and pre-wedding festivities. It became a favorite pastime for our cats to roam around next to us or sleep on our laps soaking up the warmth of the flames. One year, we set a tv up in the back yard and watched law and order epidsodes every night while staying toasty by the fire. Sometimes we'd light up the fire just to provide a place to relax in between games of croquet. Many times we'd invite people over and let their kids over to cook their very own hotdogs and sm'ores over perfectly tended hot coals. Other times, we'd sit around the fire sipping wine after a hard days work, relaxing to the crackling flames. Most times we have a fire, someone always ends up stopping by. It's like the hot roaring fire is an irresistable invitation to pull up a camping chair, sit down, crack open a beer and shoot the shit.

Not much has changed in the last 10 years. We always have stacks of wood, kindling, faded camping chairs and an open door. Anytime someone is getting rid of old wood, old garden boxes, pallets - we are the first to claim them then break them up into burnable pieces. The dogs too, have taken well to the tradition of nightly fires. They run and chase eachother around the pit as we shoo them away from flames intent on scorching. They finally settle in and curl up next to the fire. When we take trips to the beach, we are always on the look out for the perfect wood stoking stick. Some of our friends and family members have fire pits too. So the luxury is extended when we visit them. It doesn't take much to have fun around a fire. You can talk a lot or not at all. The flames and crackling wood can keep a 2 year old amused.

The backyard fire pit continues to be a gathering place for all those in need of a brief escape or leisurely laid-back respite from daily life. Whether we are away camping or hanging out in the backyard, the fire is our main source of comfort and entertainment and is now fully rooted in tradition and a more than seasonal way of life.

Garden Yoga

I never had any other desire so strong, and so like to covetousness, as that one which I have had always, that I might be master at last of a small house and a large Garden.

~Abraham Cowley, The Garden, 1666

When I became a gardener, I fell in love. I fell in love with the permanent dirt stuck btn my fingers, toenails and on my knees, the small scratches all over my arms and legs, and how I became miraculously immune to the toxic leaves of poison ivy. I fell in love with my new state of mind which grew healthy from the daily fresh air of being outdoors and my body responded by falling in rhythm with the changes of the seasons and the womanly phases of the moon. Mostly I fell in love with how gardening planted peace in my soul and exercised my already active imagination.



I could and still do spend hours envisioning the final established fully grown product, months from now and years from now. I loved becoming fully absorbed in thoughts about where will things thrive, how big will they get, how long will that take, what would look best next to that and rearranging plants and ideas until at last I have my future, lush and wild green garden exactly the way I pictured it in mind over and over. The imagination does not stop there. When my garden's established 3 maybe 4 years in, my soul is satisfied at last, yet my mind is already racing - for a gardener's work is never really done right? Plants need to be divided, transplanted, added, weeds pulled, more compost added. It's like Karel Čapek, The Gardener's Year, 1931 says: "Let no one think that real gardening is a bucolic and meditative occupation. It is an insatiable passion, like everything else to which a man gives his heart."

In the garden, every day is different. I have to see things from the plants point of view. The plants will tell me their needs and I will respond as their loving garden-mother, giving them everything they need to thrive and grow strong. Being sensitive to their needs is essential for happy plants. They all expect different things from me. Some like more water, some insist on shade, others demand sun all day. Sometimes, they require a sibling – like my blueberries who refuse to put out fruit unless planted close to their brother or sister blueberry. Some are extremely demanding and ask that I keep a close eye on them and give them haircuts every so often, pruning away their wild growth. Others keep more to themselves, asking only that I visit them every so often.

Sharing our garden is the most rewarding part of Warren and I’s hard work. When someone stops by to experience the feeling of our garden, I know we’ve accomplished our goals. Our current garden, in our front yard, serves the purpose of being a shaded, green, lush miniature rainforest full of zen and quiet calm. Friends and neighbors stop by to comment and walk around it, sometimes sitting for a bit, absorbing the tranquility, maybe hoping in a sense to take some of it with them.

Gardening is definitely laborious work but it’s not just the wondrous end result that I wait patiently for. Whether I’m weeding, digging, planting, mulching, sweating, getting sunburned, or using muscles I didn’t know I had, my body, mind and soul are being cleansed and revived. My mind gets to wander while my hands work in the dirt. And the outcome of each gardening session is like a satisfying yet intensive yoga class. I’m worked, I’m worn but I feel incredibly gratified and fulfilled. And after a shower and a good night’s rest, I’m more than prepared to go outside, grab my tools and do it all again.

The War on Grass

Keeping your lawn nice while your young dogs are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing.

-anon

Grass is the cheapest plant to install and the most expensive to maintain. - Pat Howell

The cost of having a nice grassy lawn with three young dogs is high. When we bought our house, the backyard was beautifully landscaped with a 1000 tons of river rock, 19 wild roses, 200 weeds at least 4 feet high and an ugly prickly holly tree. Yes, it was F-UGLY back there. It didn't take us long, as former landscapers, to rip out the weeds, roses and cut down the holly tree. It did take a bit longer to get the endless loads of rock removed but when we finally did, we had us one beautiful expansive mudpit. Not long after that, we brought in thick green sod, hardy evergreen leland cypresses and lots of mulch. It was frickin gorgeous. Did it last? Well, sort of.

We learned real fast that three dogs are hard on even the so-called toughest grass. When we open the door to let them outside, they gallop and barrell through the same path each time like it's the first time they've been outside in a century. They wear a lovely path through the entrance to back yard. They chase eachother back and forth and all around the yard for hours on end. Throughout the summer, there may be a few holes dug here and there that we try to patch up, only for them to get dug up again. And when the fall rains come, what's left of the grass turns into a muddy slimy mess. We re-seed every fall and every spring, gating off the yard, completely cutting off the dogs access to the grass as we try to revive it. This really pisses the dogs off and they plot together to jump the temporary fencing every time they go outside which usually results in us taking them out one by one on a leash to pee, it's either that or lifting each dog back over the fencing every time, risking smashing the new baby grass growing in.

So early this spring, we did it again. We fenced off the yard, leaving only the deck area for the dogs to do their business in. We re-seeded and the grass grew fast and within a month, we decided to open up half of the yard while we left the other half to grow a little longer. Oh man the dogs were happy. So happy in fact to have their yard back that they proceeded to spend the next two hours eating grass. We laughed at how happy they were only later in the middle of the night to be awoken to the sounds of dogs barfing up undigested grass. Well, that's alright, they hadn't had any grass in a month so they were just making up for lost time right? Well, each day since, and let me tell you, it's only been a little over a week, at least one dog has either barfed grass in the middle of the night or has pooped a grass log that we've had to help pull out. Come on, enough grass alright? They are fricking manic about it. Especially Huckleberry. I think she really has a problem. What do you do when your teenage laborador is hooked on grass? Mow it, says my father-n-law. So we did, we mowed it. Even better she says, she loves fresh cut grass even more. Hucky is just not a dog you say no to. If she wants it, she is going to do it and is willing to pay the consequences, well maybe not willing, but without enough mental capacity to realize the consequences.

I am in agreement with how this anonymous poet thinks: "I am not a lover of lawns. Rather would I see daisies in their thousands, ground ivy, hawkweed, and even the hated plantain with tall stems, and dandelions with splendid flowers and fairy down, than the too-well-tended lawn." However, poor Warren, his dream has always been to have the perfect green lawn like his dad did but now with these three houligans, he must hold dear in his memory the picture of our untouched perfectly green lawn - only available for the first few weeks each spring and surrounded by temporary fencing where no human or dog foot has yet touched. That's as long as it lasts. But it's enough to get us through the summer for nightly backyard fires, weekend bbq's, and many hours of lounging out there with dogs, watching them eat the precious grass.