New Beginnings/New Journeys

I am shocked to see how long it has been since I last posted here! But I haven't been idle. In fact, much has changed in my life. Primarily and specifically, I have embarked on a committed, love relationship and am preparing to move out of my geographic community of the past four years to return to British Columbia where my new partner lives. Although this is a big change, BC was my home for twelve years in my younger adult days and I loved living there--so much so I thought I would never return to the US. But life intervened, as it has a way of doing, and I returned to the US many years ago.

Now as I prepare to return to Canada, I'm automatically signed up for the government paperwork dance, mostly because my original citizenship certificate is in a previous name. Mind you, this is not a hard task--just a hassle. However (and here I stop digressing), while looking for my certificate of citizenship, I serendipitously unearthed forgotten folders filled with newsletter articles and papers I had written on "community." It was like discovering the forerunner of this blog! I was pleased, amused, and bemused that ruminations on community have been filling my mind for decades. Pleased with my abiding passion for and interest in alternate ways of living; amused that somehow I had forgotten how many years my belief in a community approach to living has informed my decisions; and bemused that it has taken me so long to move forward with exploring ways to implement, once again, the ideals and philosophy of living in community.

OK, that's the long, slow curve to get to the point: I will soon be meeting with a group of women to discuss the feasibility of buying land together to live and/or work in community in some way. We will be looking at a specific piece of land in southern BC and have already started an email discussion of philosophies and issues around living in an intentional community/land trust. I plan, in subsequent blog posts, to document and examine the process and issues that arise as we embark on this new journey. (The picture is from the area we are exploring. Expect more pictures of beautiful southern BC in subsequent posts!)

Communities: Belonging

So far in this blog I have talked about my geographic community. I started there for the simple reason that one day I was struck by how much I enjoyed living where I live. I wanted to share some of my sights and neighborhoods. Considering what pictures to include and framing the shots allowed me to see my surroundings in a way I usually do not. But there was another reason. I believe that people feel a belonging in certain geographic locations--places where they feel at home. Some are lucky enough to be born where they belong; others search for that place or, possibly, feel the dis-ease of being out of place. I'm interested in exploring those edges.

Recently I took a road trip across the southern part of British Columbia. It wasn't a new road to me but it had been many years since I had been that way. When I travel outside my usual haunts, I gaze at the passing scenery--the farms and small towns and large cities (although there were no large cities on this trip!)--and wonder what my life would be like if I lived in that place. Who would be my friends, how would I spend each day, would I like the weather, where would I work?  Some places feel like an instant fit. Others would need to prove themselves to me.

But even in the places where I feel like I could belong--where I might feel at home--I immediately realize that home involves so much more than place. I would be so far from my friends and family! The thing is, we make new friends (if we're lucky) but we cannot hurry the history that creates the fabric of old and dear friendships. Still, newness and adventure and curiosity exert a pull....another edge to explore.

Finally, because I'm thinking of friends, both new and old, and because I've just discovered the fun of creating a picture collage on Picasa, I'm compelled to include this collage of some of my friends, all of whom enrich my life immeasurably! (Disclaimer: Bonnie Raitt, Keb Mo, and Tom Robbins are not "friends" but neither are the pictures Photoshopped!)

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Proctor District Redux

Since my last post about the Proctor District, I have probably gone there every day I've been in town. I would like to claim I walked there each time but, no, most of the trips were by car (laziness? no time? no excuse). One of my favorite places in the District is Metropolitan Market. Met Market regularly has samples like cooked-on-the-spot food, delicious cheese (my latest favorite is graskaas, a wonderful "fresh" cheese), fruit--particularly new varieties--and occasionally sweet treats from the bakery (today was a little key lime "bite"). Mmmm. Two items that I like that I can get only at Met Market (at least in Tacoma) are a very good version of cioppino (excellent with their herb rolls) and rebel crunch granola, which is made by Blue Heron bakery in Olympia.

I love the colors and quilt-like displays of the produce department so want to take a picture. However, I feel strangely guilty and furtive aiming my camera. Would someone think I was an industrial spy? No one questions me but my red-flag feeling is confirmed when I approach the table where an employee is wrapping and displaying the items shown in the next picture. (I've included the picture as a guessing game for all you three who read this blog. What are the objects displayed in the picture? The only prize for getting it right is your own self-satisfaction and that's worth plenty these days! What a clever way to get you to comment on my blog!)

To continue: the employee grimaces when I brandish my camera and then explains apologetically that I can't take pictures without permission. She suggests I speak to the manager who, when I explain my blog, is thrilled that I am including Met Market but hopes that I am not sending it to Whole Foods. I assure her that Whole Foods is not following my blog. Ha!


When I leave Met Market to go home, I find the main intersection at 26th and Proctor is under construction. The City is installing traffic-calming bulb-outs and lovely rose-colored pavers to prominently mark the crosswalks. Unfortunately, I've also hit it right when Mason Middle School students are getting out of school and parents are everywhere picking up their kids. The traffic is brutal. (Why are all those parents picking up their kids? I don't remember parents picking up students when I was in junior high school.)

I apparently need to watch my timing because on the day I walked to take the pictures, I also managed to get right in the middle of gaggles (giggles?) of  red tee shirt and sweatshirt-wearing Mason students. The snatches of overheard conversations were amusing and horrifying and probably not that different from when I was a teenager: "Aiden, Christian (or was it Kristen?) wants to beat you up" and ". . .she's only 13 and I don't usually . . .but before I touch her I'm gonna make her sign something . . ." (a budding lawyer? I wondered and worried about that one). Then there was the angelic-looking young woman/girl who turned around and shouted "Hey, homey!" surprising the hell out of me.

More on the rest of my walk home next post...

Ruston Way - Summer Requiem

After a glorious, sunny weekend away, I arrive home to a 60-degree house and rain, rain the next day. My furnace is on; summer is over. The carefree, in-short-sleeves walks along Ruston Way are now something to be remembered, not experienced. So, I expect this will be a last post for this year about the sights along and comments about the Ruston Way part of my community.

Ruston Way is much-used in the summer but it never feels crowded (unless you count the cars at almost gridlock on hot afternoons). The skateboarders are in evidence; bicyclists, too. The cyclists, who ride on the sidewalk because the roadway has no shoulder, are, for the most part, courteous and not out to scare the bejeezus out of pedestrians. I note, however, that unlike other places I have lived, cyclists here generally don't give you warning they are approaching from the rear with either a bell or a friendly "on your left" (although the latter doesn't work very well anyway for those directionally challenged).

I enjoy seeing the fishers, most of whom are on one of the piers. I'm curious who they are, how often  they come here, if they catch anything, and if they eat what they catch. I should ask them but instead I take a photo, from a distance so they don't feel self-conscious. I am nervous about taking someone's picture up close. I want to respect privacy and, truthfully, I don't want to be challenged. I see people sitting alone at picnic tables, benches, the seawall, or on a rock reading, writing, drawing, contemplating. Like my curiosity about the fishers, I'm interested in these people and would like to question them; ask them what they are doing. Perhaps I could create a "Blog pass" and ask to interview them.

One scene sticks with me. An attractive man, probably about my age, with a silver-gray ponytail, earring, wearing jeans, is lowering himself onto a bench with the help of a cane. For some reason, I think "Viet-Nam vet."  When I come back the other way, he is still there and is staring at a couple of pictures he has pulled from his wallet. They appear to be of a woman and a child. I am struck with sadness, although the tableau may not at all represent what I perceive.

Not very many days later, at the same spot, unmistakable happiness is represented by a bride and groom having their picture taken on the pier. Again, even though a professional photographer is taking pictures of them, I don't want to intrude. Instead, I sneak in a shot when they're not looking.



I start to look forward to reaching the historic fire boat because that's where I usually turn around to start back to my car. It's a shame people are not allowed to clamber around on the boat but that's the way of historic exhibits. I'm not necessarily a boat person, but when I see it, I'm reminded of the times I've seen the fire boats out on the water spraying huge arcs of water, looking very much like a skookum lawn sprinkler on steroids--a very showy display.

To reward and push myself just a little farther, I like to go just beyond the fire boat and the fireman's memorial to look, again, at the mosaic-tile seashell display that is somewhat hidden off the main path. I'm not sure why this installation brings me such pleasure but you should see for yourself.

The Walk to Proctor District

As a change of pace, we'll leave Ruston Way and walk to the Proctor District to transact some business. I need to go to the post office to mail a couple of big envelopes that seem to require a tricky formula to determine the amount of postage. But that's ok, because this gives me an excuse to combine my walk with takin' care of bidness. I love being able to walk to the Proctor District! I love being able to multi-task!

Even close to my home I enjoy some quirky things like the mural on the side of a big apartment building on the corner a block away. Over the last three years I've watched that building change from a decrepit (there's really not a more polite description), abandoned or possibly flop-house with a faded wall mural reminder of one of its former lives as a corner store (Oh! remember those? I have very fond memories of wonderful penny candy...yes, really, one cent for wax lips and mustaches; pop-filled wax tubes; licorice records with a little pink dot in the middle; lik-m-ade) to a well-kept, new windowed, carefully painted apartment building.

And just down the block from that refurbished building is a modest house with a completely immodest garden! This guy's garden contains flowers, apples, raspberries, strawberries, peas, beans, shrubs, pears....oh the list goes on....and that's just the part that lines the sidewalk. I really like this garden. It uses space to grow food and it's attractive, at least to those who prefer an over-the-top style of gardening...and there's no lawn.

But speaking of lawn, I'm always amazed when I come to two average blocks with average homes (nice, but not outstanding) that have the greenest, most velvety lawns I've seen outside a golf green. Did they all sign a pact? Do they all use the same gardener? Today I was rewarded with actually seeing two guys tending to one of the lawns--two, count them, two--one for the lawn mower that must have been lopping off about 1/4 inch of grass, if that, and the other with the ubiquitous weed whacker whirring oh so delicately around the saplings. I thought about taking a picture, but a shot of a patch of green with my point-and-shoot would not make my case.

About now, you're thinking will she ever get her envelopes mailed? Well, a walk with a camera is a great time to actually see many things that are not central to the task at hand and to remind me of my community connections. But I confess that the entire walk took less time than posting this blog. That's just crazy! And maybe a signal to me that's it's time to sign off.

Oh, but first. A word about hubris. [Overbearing pride or presumption; arrogance]. So, I think to myself "I'll plant a couple of orange mums on my parking strip; they'll look really cool." So I did, and I was right--they were rude and sassy and I was pretty self-satisfied.


About two days later, I glanced out my front window and beheld.....my comeuppance. Most of the beautiful, showy, sassy flowers on the top of one of my mums were gone. I believe some uppity deer came along and had my chrysanthemum flowers for appetizers!

More Ruston Way Musings

The next stretch on Ruston Way, heading south, is good for adding a little running to my walking. I run until I can feel my shins protesting, with my heart and lungs the second wave of the protest, then settle back into a brisk walk. I read somewhere that the combination of sprinting and walking is good--similar to fartlek--and I'm sticking to it!

Although the wide sidewalk runs next to Ruston Way (with a lawn buffer) for much of its length, it also swoops close to the water and piers and picnic tables from time to time. I like this particular little swoop, which brings me close to some dune grass that has been planted, giving the area more of a beach feel and less of a parking area feel, which it is. In the summer, I often see groups of twenty-somethings sitting in lawn chairs in the lot next to their hot-roddish cars (this is Tacoma, after all) laughing, horsing around, flirting--the usual young-people-in-summer activities.

This heather (or is it a heath? I can never keep them straight) amazes and amuses me. It reminds me more of a sea plant than a dirt plant, which, given, its location, is entirely appropriate. I would like some of these in my yard but since I've banished pink from my front garden where most of the sunshine falls, I guess that's a no.

The question of why someone would banish pink, a perfectly acceptable flower color, from her front garden will undoubtedly be answered in excruciating detail when and if the posts on my Gardening community appear.