Saturday, September 27, 2014
feels a bit like fall today—the light and air and the apples and pears at the farmers market. i'm ready for fall colors.
though today i'm traveling up to summery weather (80 degrees) for a barn dance at a farm! time to dust off the uncomfortable cowboy boots, which will likely be cast aside for dancing.
Posted by Kerstin Svendsen at 12:09 PM
Friday, September 19, 2014
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
beauties from 2014, 2000-ish, and 1974 i think
i love these photos of my mom and her sisters (and mormor in bottom one, standing in the middle).
i like any photos where one sees a family (and styles) change (and in some ways stay the same) over time. and as an only child i'm fascinated by siblings in general.
it's amusing to me that my mom is in blue in the top two photos and her sisters in neutrals (with ulrika wearing most black and kata wearing most light in both). mette is escaping comparison in the top two by not being present in the middle photo. she is on the far left in the bottom photo.
Monday, September 08, 2014
your words settled into my stomach, a protective lining for growing hope. now, gritty sand.
collecting/believing words has always been problematic for me. as i grow older, i trust words less and less, but i still love them. the intention. their shapes and sounds. how they roll in the mouth, hang on the tongue. rarely accurate, but always striving.
candy striped neon hot and burning the soles of my feet tar stink scarves trailing the wind flags fluttering eyelids too thin skin wrinkled by smiling squinting hand to block the sun how bright how bright a flame people want to be near and capture and stare
a little bit of a large chunk removed from a letter. not sure why i want to put it here when i did not keep it there. maybe because i'm more removed now.
Friday, September 05, 2014
after attending a great new to me yoga class today, i noticed that local alameda soap makers, bubble farm soap co, will be opening up a little shop in alameda in the fall. inspiring. i love the idea of making something useful and beautiful, that relies on/supports nature (bees!) in the process. and they get to bring their products to all sorts of cool local stores, like favorites of mine, alameda natural grocery and redux, and to tattoo parlors (the salve!) and acupuncturist offices. i really like their soaps; the ones i've tried (milk and honey and oatmeal honey) are not scented with oils, and they feel soft. i think i will try the mint scented one next. can't wait to visit their shop (which already looks cute—above) when it opens.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Sunday, August 24, 2014
alameda is barely an island; it's that close to oakland. it only became an island in 1902, when a canal was dredged between oakland and alameda. alameda is very short spanning north-south and longer east-west-wise. from east to west, several streets run through most of the island, including the bicycle boulevard, pacific ave. not very trafficked by cars, pacific has always been a favorite of mine to walk and bike. it leads to the farmers' market on saturdays. part-way down is the purple victorian on the corner, with the dogs that hang out in the bay window. it leads to my house from the ferry terminal on the days i make the extra time to take the ferry and bicycle from SF, instead of the bus. and, it led to her house.
it used to be that she lived on one end of pacific and i on the other. (it is probably still that way.) that strip of street between us became the site of many strong emotions for me. in the beginning, excitement, nerves, fear, desire. and i rode my bicycle letting go and trying to let go of my fears. open. singing to calm myself. later, on early mornings when i went home to feed pinky leon before scrambling to work, almost no one stirred on pacific, except sleepy dog walkers sometimes wishing good mornings. the air sparkly with dawn light. happy, happy.
i rode down it when we first met in the middle, at a bar. nerve wracked, but also with a what the hell attitude, for once. at some point, i rode down it late at night, fast, fast, full of love, the street dark and empty until a small old car thumping music drove past, and a guy yelled "i love you!" at me. is it that obvious, even in the dark? i wondered. elation. another time in the late afternoon heading her way, three kids ran in front of my bicycle on purpose, giggling madly as i swerved this way and that and rang my bell to their delight. joy. and then the night i knew i should not be bicycling down pacific. the night i kept thinking i should turn around, that she didn't really want me to come over. sick to my stomach and a need to know why/what was going on. (i will try to forgive you, pacific avenue.) i have ridden down pacific slower and more meandering than i have ever ridden a bicycle, not wanting to go home. and i have ridden faster than i have ever ridden, energy overflowing. i have bicycled down it many times with a huge smile on my face.
lately, there is only so far i will go on pacific. still, it is a good street.
it seems with so few blog readers these days, i am back to writing things that will probably make me cringe...
Sunday, August 17, 2014
honey, it's back to long walks around alameda.
back to photos of old cars, old trucks and houses probably.
been listening a lot lately to willie nelson's latest, band of brothers. willie is always a comfort. i thought i left you.
went to bodega bay where it was mostly grey interspersed with the birds memorabilia everywhere we turned.
also lately, here's pinky lookin' good.
and a wildcraft studio school screen print finally framed
reading and enjoying zadie smith's NW.
Tuesday, August 05, 2014
maybe new love is a bit like travel. your patterns and ways all get disrupted. you wander down strange streets, surrendering to your feet and where they take you. you see/taste/hear things from a different perspective. the simplest activities become adventures. and scenes that you might consider troublesome if you lived in that country, you see with a curious eye and an open heart. or you might quickly look past/disregard troubling scenes; they are totally inconsequential in comparison to the lush and varied and surprising and amazing surroundings! the warmth of the local people. all that smiling. you might find yourself smiling all the time too. people seem to find you more approachable than they do at home, something about the way you carry yourself: the openness, the smiling, the happiness.
and then when you return home (even unexpectedly), although you loved that other place and how it made you feel, even if you had imagined possibly moving there for a very long time, you are a little relieved too. all that shifting inside and constant sensory overload was also somewhat stressful. you sleep much better at home. and your home looks different now too. you have a new appreciation for certain aspects of it. some forgiveness and some tenderness. but you would like to retain some of the openness/willingness. and when the relief wears off, you will have to try not to think too much about that place that won't become another home. definitely throw out the extra toothbrush, to start.
Friday, July 25, 2014
this one (same god) was one of my favorites from yesterday's show under the big trees.
i've seen sean hayes since 1998, the year i moved to san francisco. many, many, many a time over the years, but yesterday was the first time in a good while, and much needed. such a calming relaxed graceful flow to that kid. groovy. full of music and poetry. and always different. and funny.
the first time i saw/heard him, he was playing in the bar at the fillmore. my girlfriend at the time and he were friends, and we went to hear him instead of whoever the band was that was playing the main stage that night. we sat right in front of sean at a table for two. a few other people were scattered about, not paying much attention. i remember it seeming like a show just for us. i was so caught off guard by the voice that came from the thin man sitting before us. vulnerable and raw and soulful and resonant and soothing. i was immediately completely drawn in. over the years, it's come to seem right that that voice comes out of him, though there is still surprise too every time. my breath catches, and then i settle in.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
back in 2008, i stumbled across a long table winding around dolores park. i didn't realize at the time that it was an outstanding in the field table, but i knew i wanted to sit at a table like that, set in a beautiful spot. i learned about oitf soon after that, and in 2010, sarah rubens let me include two of her oitf photos in from orchards, fields, and gardens.
this past weekend, six years later, i finally ate scrumptious food at one of those long tables at capay organic farm under the old oaks with one of my favorite people and friend of 35 years, laurel. what a treat!
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
above from jen and bob's thrifted-gifted-traded-scavenged-pilfered-hand-built yard. a magical ever-changing piece of sf bayview heaven, complete with chickens, cats, ol' dixieloo dog, a night warming chiminea, heart shaped stone collection, driftwood reminders, and succulent color bursts. and soon to sport a handmade pizza oven (built with clay gleaned from a friend's land).
we were there for jen's ceramic bead class. we shaped, jen fired, we glazed, and jen will fire. can't wait to see what the finished beads look like.
mati and heather and i rode our bikes to/from class along the embarcadero. (we realized that we were a bicycle-beading gang and hooted/rang our bike bells accordingly!) we passed this urban beauty and topped the day off with some ice cream from mr. and mrs. miscellaneous. mmm.
thx jen and bead gang for a fun day.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
i finally signed up to be a friendly visitor to a senior again. i don't know what took me so long.
above is julia, one of the liveliest people i've known.
my recollection of her after she died in 2004.
i'm just remembering that at first julia was going to name this dog melba (after the toast).
Wednesday, May 07, 2014
for someone who is atrocious at letting go (and should revisit mindfulness/meditation), maybe trying to let go of someone three times shortly after meeting them is good practice.
today i rode on central avenue to the eastern end of alameda, past east shore drive onto this short sandy spit lined with gnarly trees, up to a single bench looking over the water. as i sat there, planes were taking off from oakland airport, the oakland coliseum announcer's words were carrying across the water, and the fountain in the neighboring yard was trickling. sun soft breeze blended all the sounds into one sleepy song. egrets (i think that's what they were) flapped in place like pinwheels flashing, or like crazy winged daytime stars, before dropping to the water.
Saturday, May 03, 2014
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Friday, April 04, 2014
Thursday, March 27, 2014
the elusive neighborhood leopard let me pet her today. she moves so fast, it's very hard to take a photo of her. she is tiny but sturdy and slightly plump. she knows what she wants.
spring is the best. alameda trees.
on repeat: like real people do
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Sunday, March 09, 2014
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Friday, February 14, 2014
Monday, February 10, 2014
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
when i can't find him, i look behind the curtain, and usually there i spy his round orange back. he sits (hunched these days, really) on the windowsill taking in the sun; maybe he watches the many squirrels in and out of the oak tree outside, the occasional stray cat, the dogs out for a jaunt.