it took me awhile, but i recognize the signs.

everyday is like sunday. everyday is silent and grey.

is that what im really doing, just waiting?

"i wont say do not weep, for not all tears are evil."

"weep for them," he whispered. "ye canna hold a ghost at bay."
"i can't. i'm afraid," i said, but i was already shaking with grief, tears wet on my face. "i can't!"
and yet i did. gave up the struggle and opened myself, to memory and sorrow. sobbed as though my heart would break - and let it break, for them, and all i could not save.
"let them come, and grieve them, claire," he whispered. "and when they've gone, i'll take ye home."

- a breath of snow and ashes, diana gabaldon

the air was still, until it began to turn into a somber grey dawn. now the small birds in the shrubbery are chirping their good-mornings to each other while larger bird are calling out from the trees, stretching their lungs. its hard to make out the colors just yet; the grass is a strange mixture of grey and brown and the trees merely towering shapes in the early light. the roses take on a blue shade underneath the pink, and the leaves look silver.

i set straight the flower pots that were a casualty from last nights raid on the garbage can. despite my best efforts to secure the lid, that raccoon still got some trash to enjoy, though from the looks of it, tissue and a banana peel, it seems more likely he pulled it out just to spite me for not making it easy. ive seen this raccoon, or one of them, as the case may be, and hes a bold fellow (seems to be a characteristic of his family, i suppose). he is curious about the kittens, who sit there staring at him, wondering if he is their larger cousin, someone they could play with, or something they should be afraid of. i placed a bb gun by the back door, doubting ill ever use it.

im going to clean the assembly hall before this weekend's two-day session.

probably not the best movie to watch on a stormy night. i didnt think that there were trees close enough to the house to rub against the windows, but i hear them trying to get in.

the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire!

here was my plan: take advantage of the still burning fire, not have to worry about dinner and read a little bit by the firelight before the sun went down. within a minute, however, i lost one of my two hotdogs to the flames, and i realized that the rain was picking up. resigned, i covered my book with my raincoat and focused on the last hotdog. i ate it under the canopy of trees that was the best drip-blocker, although a few downright icy ones found their way to my neck.

the new fire pit is just about to the edge of the property line (about 80 feet, counted goonies-style) and far enough that you wonder if you are walking into a black abyss - that is, when you forget the flashlight. we were burning to get rid of the huge amount of trees and limbs that were left over from last year's hurricane season. i think it must have been a drop-off zone for the entire neighborhood; seriously, we burned for hours and are no closer to being finished. there are a lot of cedar logs, about 20, and not all of them are rotten. maybe i could get creative with an axe? maybe i could cut off a leg or two. either way, the cedar smells nice when burning.

and now, after a much needed bath, wuthering heights. ralph fiennes. mm.

i think about the time i kicked a boy 'til he cried

i've been wondering lately just whose going to save me

the hallway... this leads to my bedroom. dont look too closely. that room is always a mess. behind me is the other bedroom. those frames were recently filled and hung up very carefully. coming soon - more frames with more pictures!















oooh, the secret staircase! in truth, these stairs (from the dining room) lead to a scary attic, where wasps hold domain and floorboards trip the unwary. that part of the house is under perpetual construction.















the hallway is off the dining room and straight ahead is the bathroom. you can see how some of the walls are not level, despite my excellent photography. the house was built in 1926 by chekoslovakia immigrants. we actually met the grandson of the builder; he had driven up to show his own grown grand kids the house. he told us where his great-uncle was buried. fortunately, it was not under the house, but in the cemetary a few blocks away.

a few of you, dear readers, have requested to see the place i call home. okay, no one really did. i thought i would show you anyway. this is the bare, but clean, dining room (there is blue tape around some of the borders in preparation for painting the trim). puppy is looking towards the kitchen, as she always does. my parents brought the table from el salvador; they were helping where the need was great for a short time just after they were married. that pitcher has some holly berries in it from a tree outside. i cant keep them there for long, since bear loves to chew on any plant material. he craves it.


this is the other side of the same room. i love that little desk; it is home to many notecards. the easel is set up for me to try painting. notice im starting out small. the pail is full of yesterday's brew. the wine rack is nearly full, thanks to my bro-in-law's wine making. the chest is my make-shift linen closet (i got it at a killer price from my sister, who also got it at a killer price from a yard sale.) the gray piece is a fossil, some ancient sea-dwelling creatures.








this is the view looking into the kitchen. we will save the kitchen photos until ive gotten a chance to do the dishes.

there is nothing quite like the smell of boiling hops drifting through the crisp, fall air while you work in the garden. i planted the tulips, hopefully in a spot where they will grow straight and tall, reaching for the sun. i trimmed the small ficus tree that is right outside my bedroom window, the one that looks to be grafted onto an old tree stump. i wonder about that stump - it is so huge; three people could probably stand on it comfortably. it was definitely not a ficus, but maybe an old friend to the cedars that fringe the border of the yard? oaks will get that massive, though something about the bark is different than your typical fl oak tree. there are two sprawling lantana bushes that have also prospered next to the stump, spreading their viney stems as far as they can go. no matter how much i cut away, they tower over the ficus and are still wider than i am tall. i like having them there, though; i am used to the shadow they cast inside my room at night.

anyone for some home brew?

was that it? was that the jupiter show?

whenever i feel like i should insist i'm right about something, little alarm bells go off in my head. too many times, i am confident i'm right, when in fact, i'm completely, utterly wrong.

not so this last weekend, though, twice within hours.

no, its not a satelite, it IS venus. (proved right by my dad, the star genius)
and yes, we were supposed to make a left, not a right. (proved right by the extremely long walk in the wrong direction)

i listened to the alarm bells and didnt even say i told you so. uhm, except for now, in this post. :)