Oregon Flowers


I finally felt compelled to take my camera with me on a hike last weekend. It’s spring in Oregon and there are flowers starting to bloom in the forest. It’s lovely. Now that it’s getting nicer (and raining less) I will probably take more pictures. I haven’t really been in the mood for photography for months. The reason, most likely, being that it’s always rainy and dark here. Water and DSLRs don’t mix so much.

Other scattered thoughts:

  • if you follow me on other sites you might already know that I’m thinking about ditching Facebook. I go back and forth on it. If I ever get a chance, I will write up a blog post on it.
  • Thanks for your lovely comments about my poem. It was kind of scary to put it out there like that but the positive feedback really took some of the edge off. I’ve been having fun recording videos. Again, scary to do but nice to get out of my comfort zone a little.

Happy Friday!

The pepper

Fresh red chile de árbol chili peppers

Image via Wikipedia

The dinner dishes are piled perilously in the sink as M- and I get ready to do our evening chore. Washing and drying the dishes.

“I’ll dry and you wash.” I say.

“No, I want to dry. You wash!” M- counters.

And so the evening’s verbal ping-pong match begins. We go back and forth, bouncing insults at each other. Except we don’t use a nice, round smooth ball. No, our ping-pong match is played with shards of glass and we play until one of us ends up in a bloody pulp on the floor.

B- decides to step in and stop the fight before it gets too violent.

“I have an idea. Whoever can eat this hot pepper, the whole thing, gets to dry the dishes. The other has to wash.”

He grabbed one of my mom’s garden grown peppers from the windowsill. They were hot. And when I say hot I mean fire-hot. These peppers do not mess around.

“We have to eat the whole thing?” M- asks.

“Yep. The entire pepper,” B- replies. Did I hint a little bit of mischievousness in his voice?

Before I could say or do anything M- grabs the pepper out of B-‘s hand and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth. He begins to chew while B- and I watch him in horror like we are looking at a train wreck about to happen. He becomes cartoon-like in his reaction. His face reddens, and his eyes tear up. I can almost hear the hoot of a train whistle and see the steam coming out of his ears. He begins to make sounds that are incomprehensible.

“M-, are you o.k.?” Here’s mom to the rescue.

She scoots him to the bathroom where he vomits. And now he is too sick to do his evening chore.

“What a little jerk.” I think.

I plot my revenge as I wash and dry the pile of dinner dishes.

A favorite poem


To continue my little celebration of National Poetry Month I thought I’d read you one of my favorite poems, “Music Swims Back To Me” by Anne Sexton.


Years and years ago I bought a cassette tape (that is how long ago it was) of Anne Sexton reading her work (that is how much of a poetry nerd I am). This particular poem was on that tape and it was amazing. She has the most amazing, gritty voice. The way she read “Music Swims Back to Me” really brought it home. The poem really needs to be heard.

The Poem that Sexton is most famous for, and that gets into most of the anthologies is “Her Kind.” This is another one of my favorites.

I did a bit of sleuthing around on Google and found this page. I think this is the same recording I had on cassette. The version of  “Her Kind” on this recording is the one that I remember and it’s absolutely haunting.  “Music Swims Back to Me” is on the same recording at the 5:40 mark. It is first recording on the list.  Take a moment and have a listen by clicking here. In the name of National Poetry Month. You won’t be disappointed. I promise.


Travel and Other Adventures

As I mentioned a couple of days ago, Raf and I went to one of our favorite places, Oceanside, WA last month. The Long Beach Peninsula in Washington State is a really funky place. I’ve been visiting it in the Summers for almost as long as I can remember. It is a collection of communities on the thinnest sliver of land on the Washington coast. I was kind of tripping out on how thin this sliver of land is when we were there. I imagine the water table is very close to the surface there.

One of the communities on this sliver is Oysterville. Can you guess what they are known for? That’s right. Oyster farming. It is a very old community. In fact, I think it is one of the oldest in Washington. We finally went on the self guided walking tour and had a look at some of the fabulous old houses.

poor guy
This one kind of broke my heart a little bit. The sign reads:

Built for his bride-to-be who died before the wedding. Faithful to the end, Ned lived a bachelor till the end in this house.

And it is written by the “Daughters of the Pioneers.”


My little walking tour brochure said that Old Ned was jilted by his bride to be and she married someone else. So he lived in this pretty yellow house till he died. I wonder what the real story is? And I also have a feeling the story behind the two differing stories might be interesting as well.