boo.

jessica and i went as black swan together to pay homage to our love of ballet and theatrics. also our love of each other and halloween. it was a great costume because it was comfortable enough to party in but elaborate enough to feel like you were really going to town.


we put our faces on together in front of my bedroom mirror, all tutus and tights and a circle of makeup. bottles and powders and liners with brushes. silver glitter. hairsprayed buns.


HALLOWEEN! what of it, eh? what of the joy in playing dress up, and the value of pretend in our too often serious adult lives. i can't wait to start planning for next year! or, you know, for wearing this outfit to the library.

caramel candied pears (trick or treat)

yeah yeah okay fine, this will do.

friggen fall, eh? i'm reading 'a moveable feast' by hemingway now and as life and coincidence would have it, he spends a whole passage talking about fall.

"you expected to be sad in the fall. part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. but you knew there would always be spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen."

i know just what you mean, ernest. but aren't the colours fine.

we make teepees out of found objects

we start with some popsicle sticks as the teepee poles, frame it in birch bark and add some stones and acorns as little door stoop decorations.

jeremy draws a mother and child to live inside and a father on the roof to do some repairs but the light by that time isn't conducive to picture taking so we use our memories to mark the moment as one for the record books.

then we say LUCKY US for the fourth time that day.

someone's in the kitchen

i've gone crazy for baking loaves. or to be more accurate and way less dramatic, i've baked three loaves in the past two weeks.

the first was a marmelade tea bread i made for philip and the second was a marmelade tea bread i made for myself and the third was a molasses spice bread i made to use up the molasses from my other recent adventure in cooking - baked beans.


this isn't baking bread, to be sure, but it is a lot like it in the sifting together of the dry ingredients and the whisking together of the wet ingredients and the nice and accurate blending together of the two.

also the pan they bake in and the way they make the house smell both seem to be bread-like qualities, don't you think? mmmmm, baking things. and then mmmmm, eating them.

the trail

there is nothing, nothing, like a walk in the woods.

ode to the outdoors (and a sunset, for steph)

this is not that poem about the footprints in the sand

we saw many footprints when we were camping. maybe it's one of those things that you take notice of and then start to see everywhere, or maybe fall is unofficial footprint season.

we saw deer prints,


moose prints,


racoon prints,


and bear prints.


or maybe all these prints are made from bigfoot's special shoes he wears to throw off campers and photographers from the tabloids.

the edge of the earth

let's start at the very ending, a very good place to start.

leaving the campground before daylight, we hiked the barron canyon trail to visit the cliff's edge and watch the sun slowly, surely reach her warm arms down, waking and embracing every sleepy thing.

with jeremy's reassurance and the beat of my insides that long to be courageous, i scrambled forward, closer to the edge.


stopping to look now and then, eastward, at the tapestry of nature in all its complete and unforgiving splendor.


feet dangling over the edge, sun warming my face, husband behind me taking pictures, quietly waiting for me to get where i pushed myself to go,

in that moment i thought myself to be in heaven.

a wee windowsill snack

nuts and peaches and yogurt with honey.

what's so sweet about simplicity?

maybe the little bowls it's often served in.

happy two years!

JEREMY
geryando
gov'ner

what other weird names do we have for each other? okay well that first one isn't actually a weird name that's your real name that you came with when you were born. i am SO glad that you were born.

we talk about everything don't we? practical things like pickling and how to sew your favourite holy shirt but also big things like the universe and the truth (or untruth) of saying things like 'i'll always be with you'.

it's a natural human condition to ponder death and meaning when you love someone as much as i love you. are we morbid? or just really in love? a bit of both?

this year has been so big for us. you're almost done school, i started my shop, we're already daydreaming about our next big adventure...

i look around and see us in everything. you are entrenched in my being.

where would we be if not for each other? who would we be if we hadn't pondered this question, together, as we shared the binoculars and took turns counting jupiter's moons.

i am your moon. out in space i explore, fearlessly, knowing i'm held without boundaries. only the gravitational pull of Big Love.

the harvest brings pumpkins (and jared geller)

i feel like all my favourite people come to visit in the fall. steph was just here, my mom's coming next month and strapping young jared came from chicago last weekend to walk around with yours truly in the october sun.

usually we meet at a pub over beers but i couldn't help shake the desire to spend our time this visit, with large cups of tea and copious amounts of walking.

maybe it was my new poncho that begged for time outside.


or maybe this cookie called to us from its wicker basket holdings at petite thuet bakery, still warm and soft from the oven.

whatever the reason our usually stationary visit turned mobile and the conversation fluttered from thing to thing as conversations do between old friends, as leaves do when falling whimsically but purposely from the branches of the tree.

thanks for coming, jared! thanks for existing in the world and for being part of mine.

rays of light

steph came to visit.

we went to wedding dress stores and she tried some on and she chose the most beautiful for her upcoming occasion of love.

other than twice when i thought about my own wedding day and the inability to explain the symbolic importance of such a frock, i was completely present and completely happy to be so.

how do we share these moments with anyone but each other? how do we thank the stars for bringing us together? how do we say i love you so it sounds different, as it should, when i'm saying it to you?

all life is a quest for great loves. that which we share is one of the greatest.

mindfulness.

"this being human is a guesthouse. every morning is a new arrival. a joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

welcome and entertain them all! even if they're a crowd of sorrows who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honourably. he may be cleaning you out for some new delight.

the dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.

be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond"

the guesthouse - rumi - 1207-1273