sweet peas

A bouquet of sweet peas bedside from the summer of 2008 photo archives

I've had a package of sweet pea seeds soaking for 48 hours in a wet paper towel (helps to break down their tough outer shell and speeds up the germination process) and this morning I'll plant those seeds in a big planter with tall thin bamboo stakes tangled with green garden twine for the sweet tendrils to climb. I love the colours and their scent is magical and beautiful - sweet peas are easily my number 1 favourite summer flower ... and then cosmos, hollyhocks, poppies of any and all varieties, columbine, daisies .... oh my, the list is very long.

Last year I planted the seeds too late and although I had a pot of tall, tangled, amazing foliage - no blooms ever formed. Sweet peas, or peas of any kind like to be planted in still cool soil. So I'm on it this season. And, sigh, I have a gardening buddy this year, a partner in crime in taming the terracotta gardens. Sigh, sigh, sigh. Dreams really do come true ... uh huh ! ya know they do.

swooning

the waving tails of new spring growth on an old poplar tree we walk by each morning

Be of love a little more careful than of anything

E. E. Cummings

Re : heart on sleeve girl - merci ! for the kind & supportive comments. It's a funny thing because as soon as I pressed publish post and walked away from this computer I felt a huge weight had been lifted. I had a fantastic happy day yesterday. That purge of feelings and thoughts left here on my blog followed by a phone chat with my girl MLou early on set the day on fire and only in the very best way. This place of mine here - my other 29 Black Street - allows me to practice my inner extrovert and ya know I'm becoming quite comfortable with her (thanks to you).

7-10 days left - we're on the home stretch. Expected ETA Sunday or Monday. Swooning.

Canadian, in fact East coast (that's us) - song bird Jen Grant

saved

from the photo archives - still life with Mr. Handsome Handsome & a summertime bouquet

I have lived in this old brick house in this tiny, quiet seaside village for 17 years and before I met the cowboy last fall I had been single for all of those 17 years. When I say that out loud it shocks me. 17 years - how could that be ? My home was filled, always, with the love of cats and dogs but I rarely ever let a human in. Literally - not for dinner, not for coffee or a cup of tea. I was the merry recluse*, the happy hermit - proudly almost or at least that's how it felt at the time. I had convinced myself that I was as content as I was ever going to be, I was someone who didn't need anyone. And all those many years ... well, they just kept passing by.

Well you know that hindsight is always 20/20. It turns out that's not who I am. I had to tell myself that's who I was so that my life made sense every day. I was hiding, I tucked myself away from the world as much as I could. I had my three dogs, two cats and life at 29 Black Street was full– I think it really was. I lost 4 senior pets in 2 years. First Ernst, then Em, then Jake and Lulu - my old guard, all gone. And with Jake's death it seemed I lost my happiness. The dam broke.

The cowboy's been gone 10 days. I miss him but I talk to him daily. The thing that's made me feel sad is that having him gone is reminding me so much of the place I was in before I met him. With him gone I remember what my life was like before he so suddenly smacked into it. I was so lonely, so sad. Looking back now I can see with that hindsight clarity that I was hanging by the finest of threads. I was giving up. MLou bless her was trying to whisk me away to the city, to a new tiny life with her nearby because she could see I was dying here in this place of loneliness. Admittedly loneliness of my own creation because I'd forgotten how to be any other way.

The cowboy's story is almost identical to mine. He tells me often how I saved him. I smile, wink and say back to him, like Chip to Dale Shut Up ! No ! you saved me ! happy & loved, safe & secure, grateful, and thankful, thankful, thankful ... and not at all lonely anymore.

Off to the lands of bubbles & scent. It's so funny when I sit down here each morning I'm never really sure what's going to come out. There are days like today where I will walk away from this keyboard and wonder ... eek ! have I been too honest, too open ... have I exposed too much and I will worry about it, for a time, but the great thing about a daily journal is today is just a day ... and there's always a tomorrow.

* Caroline Knapp - all of her books are amazing

thankful

she has my heart - Miss Winnie Dixon

The unthankful heart discovers no mercies;
but the thankful heart will find, in every hour
some heavenly blessings.

Henry Ward Beecher

My heart is heavy & full at the same time. Tears, mostly of joy and happiness, cloud my eyes.
I know I spend too much time, still, asking myself. How ? How is it, that out of no where came waltzing every thing I've ever wanted. My heart is bursting with love and gratitude.

love ... I'm so glad I met you ... cause ya know ? I've been lookin' for you for a very long time.

greyish blues

the view from the end of Water Street and out into the straight

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows.
Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
And the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
Which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide
And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart
I carry it in my heart

E. E. Cummings

MLou said to me one day recently that she thinks I suffer from a kind of chronic one-sided amnesia. I seem incapable of remembering - especially the good and the very good. While the bad, sad & worrisome seem to stick in my mind, and to me, like glue. I'm afraid to trust - that's really it in a nutshell. That's where the need and desire to control comes from. I learned from a very young age that I could always count on myself, that I could really only trust myself. If I try letting go (which I have been practicing madly) battalions of What Ifs come hammering at my door. I fight this good fight against my other self almost daily. The battle to believe in the good, in the love, the security and the safeness that I now treasure and cling to. But I have days that the What Ifs along with their pals Worry & Fret break down that door easily and I tell you, sometimes the battles that ensue ... oh how they exhaust me, both emotionally and physically.
Yesterday was one of those days.

don't be afraid
have courage
speak your truth
trust in love

repeat often - perhaps consider a tattoo

So ... while the battles rage on I attempt to ignore them and I rest, I spoil myself, distract myself with pretty things (a pile of magazines) or compelling words (my current good book), I curl up in my nest of down & (still) flannel with a cat or 2 or 3 ... with a cup of English Breakfast tea (lovingly sent to me from a far away friend) and I relax ... practice my breathing and I wait for those things to calm down again. And they always do.

a little grief

Piper Belle - Sunny Bunny - sweetest coyote mix ever

In his grief over the loss of a dog, a little boy stands for the first time on tiptoe,
peering into the rueful morrow of manhood. After this most inconsolable of
sorrows there is nothing life can do to him that he will not be able somehow to bear.

James Thurber


A little grief is certainly w-a-y better than a whole lotta grief - better than that thick smothering kind of grief that I know so well - the kind of Sadness & Ache that takes over you and your life and makes you wish that you were gone too. But a little grief is still grief just the same. I miss PB, Piper Belle our Sunny Bunny. I feel a kind of delayed pissed offness about the whole thing. How is it life just keeps moving on without her in it ? I'm not pissed off at anyone or anything in particular I just feel angry that we didn't really have the time to get to know her the way we should have, the way we wanted to. That she wasn't feeling well for the best part of our six months together and that we didn't really get to know the complete Piper Belle. The dog she would've been had she been healthy and feeling good. I'm sad about that because even in sickness she was such a little character.

We did see snippets of her kooky, wild & free personality in the very beginning when she and Bess would play and play and play. Leaping and crashing and snorting and gnashing. She had the wiggliest, waggiest tail and rear end I'd ever seen. She was very cuddly and affectionate and she definitely had a big ol' crush on the cowboy. Whenever we drove somewhere in the teal wagon, Winnie would always be in the front in the passenger seat and Piper would have the entire back seat to herself and she used this space like a treadmill. The whole time the car was in motion Piper would be running back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, window to window. Never frantically it just seemed she enjoyed driving in the car in that fashion - a little exercise time. If we had all three dogs with us and she had to share the back seat with Winnie or Bess she would run in place instead. That memory of her makes me smile. She was a funny, sweet little coyote terrier mix.

I miss her, we miss her ... even at this ripe old age of mine I still feel a kind of stunned disbelief that a life (big or small) can be there with you one moment and then be gone the next. I hate (and always will) that I'm responsible for making that life or death decision with my much loved animal friends - no matter how needed or appropriate the decision may be it's one that always haunts me. I hate it. It was made easier this time because the cowboy was with us - it became our decision and not one that had to rest only on my own shoulders - which was such relief. Hey sweet PB - we sure do miss you.

I found this photo yesterday while cleaning out my clutter and stuff. Winnie Dixon at 3 (she's 11 now) and who's that tres handsome red dog in the background. Uh Huh ! That's the boy, Jake, my canine boyfriend and all round soul mate dog for 12 years.


Hey Missy D - 3 years old taken in 2002- and the handsome Jake in the background

fashionista

newly purchased, most definitely vintage, off white & black, peep toe, patent leather wedges

Fash•ion•is•ta– /ˌfæʃəˈnistə/ Show Spell[fash-uh-nee-stuh] A designer, promoter, or follower of the latest fashions

Who moi ? As Big Shamu would say ... snort !!
Please note however they do not say wearer of les latest fashions

or as anyone who knows me in the flesh and sees me trompin' around this little village in my What Not to Wear, mostly second hand (definitely not vintage), drab coloured, fleece and denim uniform of the Self Employed - complete with either clunky but tres handsome Birkenstocks (oh so sturdy & comfy) or my (hardly-ever-take-them-off) Blundstone boots (I need an all terrain kind of footware for my daily expeditions with Missy D).

Winnie and I walk by Monty's window each early morning - a fabulous, big second hand and vintage store. Margaret, the owner does fantastic windows and some thing is always catching my eye as we stroll by. Recent thrilling acquisitions from the window - 2 world globes (I've always wanted a small collection of globes). I spied these shoes a few weeks ago. I walked by the window and a voice in my brain whispered Did you see those shoes ? I think they were black & white ! Back up girlfriend ! So we backed up to get a better look. Well I thought about them all day and finally walked the 3 minute walk to Monty's after lunch to check them out. Yes ! they were my size, an 8, and they were shockingly inexpensive - for they are, no question, a thing of undeniable beauty. I was disappointed that they didn't have a chunky sturdier heel, this tapered wedge to weeny heel is just asking for my bum ankle to rollover on itself again and again (which causes me to very dramatically collapse in pain on the street - not at all pretty to witness as I pick myself up, dust myself off and hobble away).

So ... I don't know if I'll ever actually wear theses shoes, and I'm not sure where I'd ever wear them. The night that I purchased them I rolled up my jeans put the shoes on my feet and held this black and white skirt (which I've had for 4 years and worn once) up against my body as if I were wearing the chic ensemble and modeled les outfit for the cowboy. He looked back lovingly at my Birkenstocks - How sweet is that ?

I recently watched the movie The September Issue - a documentary about Anna Wintour editor (for like forever) of Vogue and the visionary and boss lady of the famous, fat as can be, much coveted September issue. I have been a subscriber of Vogue magazine for as long as I can remember. I began my fascination and love of all things fashion way back when I was a teenager along with a serious addiction to periodicals which continues to this day. It's still a thrill to me, always, when I go to the post office and stuffed into my postal box is the latest, cello wrapped issue of Vogue. The documentary was fascinating and I found myself immediately going back through all my 2010 issues (which happened to be of course still piled bedside) with a fresh eye and renewed interest. The main character in the movie of course is Anna herself, the two supporting roles (her ladies in waiting) are Grace Coddington - Creative Director (for over 20 years) and Fashion Director - Tonne Goodman. These two women, both artistic geniuses, are responsible for selecting the clothes and accessories, art direction of the main fashion layouts and styling and overseeing those photo shoots. Month after month after month. Amazing & Incredible the work, the thought process, the continued originality and imagination required and the constant attention to every single tiny detail. And very often Queen Anna tears their vision to shreds, as is seen clearly in this documentary, but that's just how it goes at Vogue. Anna's the boss, she has made Vogue a great success in this era of dwindling magazine sales. She has the ultimate 6th sense about all things fashion and these three women work together beautifully, tolerating the bumps and snits, the cuts and kills along the way, and they create together, every month, breathtakingly imaginative fashion pages.

Interesting to note that both Grace and Tonne do not dress particularly fashionably - they both have a very plain, classic, unadorned daily uniform, plain long hair, minimal or no make up and sensible flat shoes. Sigh ... so I guess it's true ... maybe I really am a fashionista.

I love ...

early morning silhouettes - walking up the hill toward the schools

I love ...

living by the ocean • the sound of seagulls • the happy chattering of finches at the nyjer seed feeder • the smell of the ocean - of salt spray as Missy D and I walk along the harbour's edge •
the smell of grass as she and I sit, once again, each early evening on our grassy hill* • hanging clothes and bedding on the line in the back garden • my morning coffee tucked into the nest of down & flannel • my bath, my much loved land of bubbles & scent • living in a tiny village •
feeling happy, confident, safe & secure - most of the time and all with such unabashed abandon I'm continually surprising myself • being in love (with a person**) ... and being loved in such
a big, wonderful way.

* the famous grassy hill also the location of our first date with the handsome cowboy and the beautiful brown hound
** my other big love


standing on Black Street, in front our the old brick house at No. 29

hooray

daphne - always the first to bloom in the terracotta gardens

Every year these tiny magenta blooms catch me by surprise - a shrub who's blooms turn into leaves. Suddenly your eye is caught by their vibrant colour hanging out cheerily amidst the dull and dirty. One day you glance up and look into the garden of browns and beiges, of dead leaves and still barest branches and these petite beauties are calling out.

Hello ! spring really is here ! Hooray

so very happy

yesterday morning's, suns just up, walk with Miss D. along the harbour & the crescent beach

Baby, now that I've found you
I won't let you go
I built my world around you
I need you so
spent my life looking for that somebody
to make me feel like new

1967 The Foundations

I love the Alison Krauss cover of this song

I do feel so stunningly brand new - I feel all shiny & sparkly.
Baby, I won't let you go, I need you so ... and I sure do miss you. 4 days down 12 to go.

The weather - has been spectacular. It feels like we're a month ahead of schedule. Yesterday loads of kids zoomed up and down Black Street on their bicycles. People were out walking in shorts and sandals. I worked in the front garden for a few hours raking, uncovering spring flowers and clipping back shrubs, neatening up the terracotta gardens in preparation for the imminent eruption of les tres tangled greenness. The breeze from the harbour, flapping my clothes hanging on the line, was warm and balmy. I slept last night with the windows open and dreamed sweet dreams of my handsome cowboy.

I feel so very happy, so amazingly happy ...

Check out how cold & snowy things looked in this little village on April 05 last year - Wow !

sugar, sugar, butter ...

ah my drug of choice - always - les crappy, sugar and fat laden, food

Actually the title should read sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar, nuts, butter ... crumbs.

And I won't even go down that road of emotional eating* and comfort food this early morning - but ya know that they are both the very BFF's of Worry & Fret.

Hello ! Doug's** Away squares a distant cousin to the Hello ! Dolly bars. Or perhaps I'll call these babies Everything Bad I Still Had in My Pantry in One Pan square (heaven forbid I throw this crap out), or perhaps The Cat's Away ... the Mice Will Eat Really Bad Things bars.

Hello ! Doug's Away Squares

1 1/2 cups of graham wafer crumbs
1/2 cup of butter
Mix this together and press into an 8" x 8" square baking pan
Sprinkle the following on top
1 1/2 cups of sweetened coconut
1 1/2 cups of toasted chopped pecans
1 cup of butterscotch chips
1 cup of semi sweet chocolate chips
1 cup of Skor toffee bits
1/2 cup of white chocolate chips
sweetened condensed milk - pour all over top, scraping can to get every last bit of badness

Bake at 350 20-30 minutes until golden brown on top. Cool completely before cutting. Uh Huh !!

I won't admit how many squares I managed to eat in less than 24hrs - know that it was a shocking number. Can you say binge baby ? But I did happily package up almost half of the pan's contents, lovingly in foil, to take across the street to my elderly neighbour Jean who also has a wicked sweet tooth ... and at 87 years young she and I agree she should be able to fill her sweet boots full. Thankfully the pan now has been washed, tucked back into the cupboard, my pantry is now void of all sugary sweet baking supplies ... no one's the wiser (except you) and I'm back on les heart smart wagon. Wink.

Sadly, pas de peeps ici ... but you'll find plenty o'peeps here

* he had barely left the driveway and I had knocked back a large bag of plain salted potato chips - no Cheetos (yet)
** Doug - yup ! tis the cowboy's name

out of control

some scenes from last evenings walk at low tide with my best girl Missy D

Control is an Illusion, Not and Answer

Insecurity creates a feeling of vulnerability. When you feel vulnerable, wanting to be in control seems like a natural, constructive desire. It may start out as a constructive desire, but a controlled life always invites anxiety and depression. Insecurity is greedy: the more control you have, the more you seek. Nothing ever makes you feel secure enough. you're doomed to chase control's carrot. As you grow desperate and pursue your "carrots" with increased agitation, you can't help but notice that depression and anxiety are becoming permanent fixture in your life.

The truth is that life cannot be controlled*. What confuses most people is the fact that control does give temporary relief. If you've managed to manipulate or cajoling life into appearing tamed and controlled, you do feel relief–for the moment. When you are desperate, this temporary relief is spelled with a capital R. If you are honest, however, you know that control is only and always an illusion. Like the eye of a hurricane, it's a false sense of calm before the remainder of the storm.

If controlling life is an impossibility–nothing more than a dangling carrot–then what's the answer? The answer is to resurrect a feeling of self-trust and confidence so that instead of controlling life, we are courageous enough just to live it.

Joseph J. Luciani - Self Coaching: The Powerful Program to Beat Anxiety & Depression

Woah !! my current bedside book.

Recently the cowboy and I were having what was becoming a rather heated conversation. I retreated quickly to my usual favourite spot, a small island of Insecurity in my head. We continued to speak and he finally looked across the table and said to me.

Susan, why not just let it be.

He might as well have slapped me. Let it Be ??? Let it BE ??? I thought to myself Are ya nuts ?? What kinda crazy talk is that ?? What if ?? I can't just let something be - I don't want to and actually I don't know how to. What about Plan B (not to mention B1, B2, B3 and C through K). Huh ?? I'm one of those people who, almost subconsciously, believes that worrying will form a bubble of protection around any potential worrisome item (situation, event, person or animal). This was a tres telling moment in my recent history, as Oprah calls it - la lightbulb moment - that the words Let It Be would cut so, like a knife. W-o-a-h ! again.

I have been building my own little world of complete control, quietly and unassumingly (I'm hoping), for as long as I can remember (elementary school perhaps). I've lived my life alone here in this old brick house (prior to the arrival of the Prince oAGT**), with my family of animals, for almost as long ... there was no one to question, debate, discuss or comfort my thoughts, feelings and/or actions - except me. I think that that made me feel like I needed to have even more control. Who else was looking after things if it wasn't me - if I let my control guard down ?? well... Good God everything could go to shit and even though I very often felt completely out of control and totally overwhelmed by life - my solution was always to try and apply more control.

* The truth is that life cannot be controlled - Shut Up !!! and now you're gonna tell me that there's no Santa Clause
** Sigh - Prince oAGT - the Prince of All Good Things, my cowboy