Yesterday a friend shared a jar of homemade pickles with me which I happily welcomed with open arms -- both friend and the pickles! It's interesting how powerful the sense of smell is -- at least my sense of smell. When I popped the seal on the jar and got a whiff of dill and vinegar I was transported back to my grandma's kitchen on Flower Street in LA; I immediately felt her warmth, the sense of safety and the love I always felt when I was with her. She was an amazing spirit and even as a young kid I knew that about her. I was a tiny one and the youngest of all the cousins -- so needless to say I think I got special treatment -- but maybe all the cousins got the same treatment and thought they were getting treated in a special way -- whatever it was, she made me feel loved in a very unique way. I can close my eyes and see the big kitchen that always smelled of fresh vegetables, freshly canned pickles or something wonderful baking. I see the deep sink and can almost reach out and count the tiny tiles that lined the back splash and counter tops. Boonya (as we called her) would tie an apron up under my arms and push a kitchen chair up to the sink so I could stand and help her do whatever it was she was doing. In her eyes, it was about the process, not so much the end product. If I broke or spilled something -- it didn't matter. We'd clean it up together and go on with whatever it was we had been doing. If we were cooking or baking - it really didn't matter if it didn't look right or taste all that great in the end -- it was all about doing something together. I know that my love of cooking and baking started early and with her and I thank her for that.
Yesterday I made my first-of-the-season trek to the Boone's Ferry Berry Farm on Boone's Ferry Road. (Yes, that Boone's Ferry!) While it's just a few miles out of town, I feel as if I am entering another world. On the small two-lane road, I pass sheep, a commercial nursery that grows bushes-topiaries and manicures them into all kinds of shapes (yes, people do seem to like bushes that look like deer, bears, and fish),a variety of tree farms, filbert (aka hazelnut) orchards in full bloom, sod farms that are the most heavenly shade of emerald and look magical when the large sprinklers are rolled out and the sun glistens through the droplets of water 20 feet above the green and, of course, berries. Berries of all types -- this is after all, the "Berry Capital of the World." If there is a berry to be found, I am sure you'll find it here. While I love them all -- blueberries are my favorite. If you haven't had the great fortune to taste a blueberry fresh picked some the field, I feel really bad about that. You see, picked at their peak, and eaten when they are still a bit warm (I never put mine in the refrigerator unless they will go into jam) I'm telling you, they are better than the best bon bon you can imagine. And, what's better than that? No calories...well, some calories but not enough to worry about. Okay, so there is a downside -- little teensy tiny black seeds that get stuck in your teeth. So, just a word of warning...when you eat them, there's a good chance you might look like Huck Finn if you smile.
If you've been following for a bit, you might remember my post about the quaint little berry shack from last year. Yesterday, my heart dropped as I came to the big barn that is my landmark to turn into the farm, and the spot that normally houses the old shack was empty. I was so dismayed...my old friend was gone. Luckily, I noticed the hand painted sign posted on the side of the commercial entrance -- the retail "store" had been moved just a bit up the road. Making a quick recovery, I found the gravel entry that leads into the fields and there it was -- my little berry shack all grown up. Very cute little iron tables and chairs out front and when I walked in, it was a nice little surprise. It seems that the young families that own the berry farms are quite entrepreneurial -- inside there were all kinds of "Boone"s Ferry Berry Farm" branded specialities. Berries, dried and fresh, filberts from the tree and in butters, and pickled garlic. So it was an unexpected little shopping adventure. I couldn't stay long since Bea was in the car and it was quite warm, so I picked up my flat of blueberries along with a pint of Marionberries and called it a day. Of course, I will be back next Friday, to replenish my supply. I drove away with mixed emotions. While I am all for progress...I have to say, I missed stepping back in time I felt with the old berry shack; but really happy to see that the young women who are running the new store are visualizing something more than a seasonal shack and I wish them nothing but success with it all.
My mom had a wee accident this morning, so Bea and I ran over to check things out and make sure it didn't require a trip to the emergency room. Thank goodness all is well and good. My mom, who is 87, now lives in an independent living facility here in town. It's not easy to watch our parents age -- much harder than I ever imagined. When we are young our parents seem so vibrant and strong -- they could do anything. As we age along with them, at some point there is a bit of a role reversal -- where parent becomes child and...well, you get it. My dad passed in 2001 and while I watched him grow weaker, I was living across the country so didn't really see the day-in-day out of the progression even though I talked with him daily. But with my mom living in the same little community that I now call home, I do see her frequently, and I will say it doesn't get any easier. The shining star in all of it, is little Beatrix Potter, the wonder Cairn. You see, Bea lives for people, which I am told is a strong Cairn characteristic. However, I think Bea has been blessed with a spirit that is all-knowing. Don't ask me to explain what I mean by that, because I am not sure I have the words. But, I do know this, whatever the situation, Beatrix knows exactly what is needed to soothe the soul of whomever is in her company. Today, that was my mom. As soon as we arrived, Bea asked to sit in my mom's lap, where she totally distracted my mom from the pain she was feeling. We stayed long enough to "doctor" the wound and the patient; and, we knew we had succeeded when my mom wanted to go have lunch with her friends. So, we walked her to the beautiful dining room, visited with everyone who loves Beatrix, and then said our good-byes. Since returning home, Bea has not left my side here in the studio -- I think her concern has shifted to me -- so she is staying close by just in case I need another hug.
While waiting for calls from clients and vendors, I thought I would take a run to Bauman's Farm -- you know about that place by now. I have been out of cherries for several days and needed to replenish the supply before they are out of season. Oh, that's always a sad day for me. Anyhow, on the small road that goes through the fields I always see the top of this Russian church off in the distance. So today, I took a little detour to explore a bit more. It took a little doing to get there, but when I finally figured it out, this is what I found. It is very small, looks like it might be a manufactured home type building but proudly, on top of what would be called a steeple on other churches, is a golden onion-shaped dome and cross. The onion-shaped architectural feature is found on the Russian Orthodox cathedrals in Moscow. There is a huge Russian population in this area -- a very long history which, sadly I don't know much about. I do know that my Grandma and Grandpa on my mom's side came from Russia to this country a few years before the Russian Revolution in 1917. Their story was much like that portrayed in Fiddler on the Roof, they fled their homes hoping to find a new world that gave them the opportunity for a better life and freedom to practice their religion. (Don't quote that year please, it's just the one I am remembering at the moment -- okay the writer in me couldn't let it go without researching and bingo! it was 1917.) While my relatives eventually settled in Southern California many others came to this part of the world. In fact, I have distant relatives that live right in this little part of the country. Small world, as they say. Just another little side trip in my day-in-the-life tale. If you are wondering when I took this pix, it was today July 21 and yes, those are rain clouds in the sky. Rain clouds and cool temperatures -- surprised? Well, you shouldn't be, after all, it is the Pacific Northwest.
We have been having a bit of summer spotted here and there with a few days of rain. But, I'm not complaining...for once. I don't mind the rain so much as long as there are bits of sunshine and warmer temps scattered throughout. I was out working in my little garden a few days back and snapped a few pix of my little furry muse. Beatrix Potter, the wonder Cairn. For those of you who know me, you'll know that Beatrix is the third rescue dog that granted me the greatest gift of all -- sharing their lives with me. First was Molly, an Australian Shepherd in SoCal; next was Agatha, a shy Norwich from Maryland and now, this little Cairn who came when I least expected it. As you may know, when rescuing a dog, you must be prepared for dealing with some "issues." None of which, I'm certain, can't be overcome with lots of love, care and patience; and most importantly, the letting go of any expectations. Since Bea was a bit younger when she came to me, her issues were not as great as those of my other girls; but she did and still does have issues. She was "tippy-tripod" for several months, while her back hip healed; and most of her issues now are around a fear of small places (which presents a bit of a challenge when she travels in the cabin with me on an airplane) and her flinching if I raise my hands too fast and too close to her head. We don't know the cause of the hip problem, but we do know that she was made to stay in a small kennel 24-7 and the woman who had her smacked her a lot during grooming. Don't get me started down that path -- however, I will say that any person who abuses an animal of any kind should be made to experience the same treatment as punishment for their inhumanity. I know...not very Zen on me...but there are some things I just can't tolerate and this is one of those things. Thank goodness for karma.
That being said -- you probably guessed by now that life is good for Bea and me. She loves her little hammock, which keeps her from the grass so her feet and tummy don't get so itchy. Yes, I have a dog with allergies -- just like her mom! What you can't see is that just to the right of where she loves to lay, Tess, the neighbor's rescued Brittany Spaniel, loves to snuggle in. She loves to be as close as possible to Bea when she is out in her yard. Bea and I were here a bit before Tess came to live with her new family and, in some unspoken way, I think Beatrx helped Tess make the transition from puppy mill breeder (enough said) to a life full of love and people she could trust. She and Bea are like "old friends, sat on the park bench like bookends." Yes, I did just quote a Simon and Garfunkel tune. But when I see them chatting between the fence or just enjoying the peace and quiet and the birds, the song just comes to mind and it makes my heart happy. What makes it even better is that my studio looks on to the patio and out over the back -- so I feel as if, even though I am the only one in the studio, I am not alone. Little Bea is my muse and my family. So, you see...life is really, really, really good. 
Summer in small town -- I went to a very small vintage-classic car show today and this was one of the entries. A beautiful LaSalle; and, if I remember correctly, there were only 25 or so of them built back in the day. But, please don't use me as your Dial a Friend should you find yourself on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire or Cash Cab because I can't be trusted to remember facts or figures any more. Are either of those shows still on? See, what did I just tell you! In my mind I can picture the women who rode in such an automobile in those days -- lots of long beaded necklaces and bracelets up to their elbows day and night. Just watch a few movies from the 30s and you'll get the idea. Anyhow, it is a stunner -- I can only imagine that lots of hard work, determination and energy went into the restoration of the car. Of course, I liken the restoration to life. While it's true that life just happens...I think we have to work pretty hard to make it the life we want...not just the life we are given. That being said, there are days when I just want to give up, call it a day, and just go for "average." Luckily, there is something in me that isn't willing to settle for average -- so even on days when I might not want to do my best, I know that I will regret not doing so tomorrow or the next day. 
Totally unrelated, but it's a weird thing -- I sit down to write an entry in the blog and I have no idea what I will say, so I post the images and then just let the words come -- something like a free-association game, I suppose. Some days, I end up in the most interesting and unexpected places...like today. Well, at least it is interesting to me...all this talk about life and working to make it what we want it to be. Maybe, all those years long, long, long ago, in psychoanalysis somehow do keep coming back to me on some level. Yes, it's true...I admit...six long years...on the couch every day...but in the end I think it was a very good thing. Did I just share that with the universe? Yeah, me and Woody Allen -- we do have something in common. That and the fact that I landscaped a terrace for a friend who lives in the same building on Fifth Avenue as Woody. So...there you go. But hey, I think Woody is actually old enough to have hitched a ride in this car and, luckily, I am not.
