Late May in New England

The Deepest Exhale

Waking up to see the sunrise has already begun

Layers of clothing no longer needed

Radiating heat reflecting off of delicate skin

Floating in bodies of water

How does it always feel like the first time

summer is coming

.make time to visit.

I'm out west in the arid foothills of the cascade mountains, my hometown. I've been going on daily walks in my favorite places. I cherish so many corners of this place - the colors + textures and the knowing of a place so deeply. 

Three days ago I went on a hike and looked at a sagebrush I remembered collecting sage from years ago. Yesterday, I went on a hike and remembered my favorite patch of winter blooms from a visit last year. Today I walked next to the Columbia river and remembered hot summer days of kayaking thru inlets and that cove where the sparrows sit in the high trees and squak so loud it drowns out the sound of traffic that echoes of the empty field next to the trail. Maybe it's because I travel so much that there is such a richness to visit these dear places, again and again or maybe it's just the connection I have to here because it's the land that raised me. 

I'm so grateful for it - this land feeds me. It taught me how to have a relationship with land. I walk these special corners with such gratitude of the colors + textures + sounds. 

Do you have places you visit? Where are there? Are they places you've known forever or are they new? 

.moonrise.

I live in a tiny studio above a garage, it's very typical in this small tourist town for families to make extra income and a source of "affordable" housing in a town with very limited options. It's a quaint space that seems like a luxury in some ways, having spent the past several years living in old houses full of roommates in the city. The bedroom nook has a window facing southeast, there's a tall line of evergreen between the neighboring open lot and adjacent house. Tomorrow is a full moon and I like to leave my window shade open on full moon nights so I can watch the moonrise from my bed. I noticed tonight the thickness of the tree offering only small flickers of golden light through the branches with alternating moments of pure darkness. It's strange to see the barrier of light that they offer - moments of bold light and of deep darkness as the moon slowly rises. I've fallen in love with the rhythms of land and place, I've missed that.

.open lands + light.

I've been staying in a log cabin the past 10 days, it's east off the highway a good ten minutes if you drive 50 mph on the 35 mph roads. There's no cell phone service out here just an open valley of land and incredible views of the snow capped mountains in the distance. It's beautiful out here, no street lights to pollute the night sky, just the soundtrack of the flooded river rushing through the cottonwoods and the chorus of birds chirping. I've savored the early mornings watching the sun rise and stretch over the mountains in the east and slowly make its way to the west throughout the day with the sun rays and shadows dancing thru the cabin until once again the pitch black settles in for the night. Yesterday a storm was coming through and the land illuminated a bright blue-grey color and I realize how in the open land I am able to see and feel the many variations of the land.  Unlike the city where the buildings and light overpower and distract us from experiencing the subtleties of a place. The overexposed washed out morning light that makes the mountains melt into a mix of colors that slowly clarify into the mid-morning shadows of the hillside that start to illuminate the individual trees and the colors separated to various shades of greens and some burnt orange from last summers fire. The shadows drape over the hillside bringing depth to the curves and as the sun starts dropping down behind, sinking into the west a muted earth tone come over the trees, the definition of the land is gone, just a bold emerald presence until the mellow shadows of green fade to black and we wait to see what tomorrow will look like, all over again but different, always different.