Forestlass

Giveaway time!

2012-03-10T09:26:00.004-08:00

Hello, everyone! The darling Girl Who Married a Bear is hosting a giveaway for me on her blog! I'm offering all who comment on her post (and this one) a chance to win a pair of earrings! Just leave a comment here, OR on Milla's post to be entered in the drawing! The contest ends on March 14th, 2012, so don't dilly dally!

See my shop for more earrings and other lovely items!

Much love to all!

Open your arms and embrace the rain

2012-02-14T09:19:00.007-08:00

Hey, everyone.

I said in my last blog post that things have been a little bumpy 'round these parts. In the last nine days, my horse Asena has passed away (the brown gal with daisies in her mouth), my hopes for a love that I'd been holding onto for months were swiftly dashed, and my father got into a car accident (he's okay, blessedly, though his wee pea pod of a car is finished).

I'm beginning to realize that part of life is learning to let the wind push you this way and that, but to still keep your feet. So, I see the positives of all these seemingly negative events. For these things to have happened, believe it or not, is a gift. I don't regret any even the smallest bit. No, no, no. And isn't that the way all facets of life are are? There is always a dark side to the light; you can't have one without the other.

Death is all around us, if we look. It's there in the mouldering leaves at our feet. Its there in the single bird wing framed by a smear of blood on the porch-- remnants of what was surely the cat's first breakfast. It's there even in the almond tree. It weeps sap from wounds bored into its tender flesh, holes created by the cutting mouths of larvae. I see it there in the scarred Earth that has opened up to embrace one more sleeping body.

And yet, there is life. The leaves become the black soil from which springs ineffable green. The birds watch Alice warily, all whilst planning their nests and eggs to come. Even as the almond cries, it produces a spray of sugar flowers. The grateful ground sighs a "thank you" as she transforms flesh to roots and stalk, bones to flowers.

Don't understand me wrong. Death is simply change, and thus doesn't always represent the extinguishment of physical life. A positive shift has occurred in my family in the last week. Change.

We may weep for those whom we cannot reclaim, though they may have passed peacefully and without pain. There's no shame in feeling sadness because things aren't what you had hoped. It's okay to bite our lips and feel fear of the unknown. It's okay. We're human. Feeling keenly is how we know we're alive. Or how I know, at any rate.

So when Life catches you out in the rain, know that it's not always so bad. You'll dry.

"Moccasin Flowers"

by Mary Oliver

“All my life,

so far,

I have loved

more than one thing,

including the mossy hooves

of dreams, including'

the spongy litter

under the tall trees.

In spring

the moccasin flowers

reach for the crackling

lick of the sun

and burn down. Sometimes,

in the shadows,

I see the hazy eyes,

the lamb-lips

of oblivion,

its deep drowse,

and I can imagine a new nothing

in the universe,

the matted leaves splitting

open, revealing

the black planks

of the stairs.

But all my life--sofar--

I have loved best

how the flowers rise

and open, how

the pink lungs of their bodies

enter the fore of the world

and stand there shining

and willing--the one

thing they can do before

they shuffle forward

into the floor of darkness, they

become the trees.”

So much love to you all, and wishing you flowers, love, sweet chickens, and mini-tiger kisses.

Well, alright.

2012-02-09T05:35:00.000-08:00

Life rarely works out the way you think it should. Been through the wringer the last week or so, and I'll talk about it soon, I guess. Until then, here are some pictures.

Just a wee...

2012-01-31T07:08:00.000-08:00

...outfit for y'all. Get ready for a super self-absorbed post. Sometimes I feel a little bad about those...

Hayle got me this dress for Christmas, and it's amongst my favorites.

Aaaand, back to serious. Do I look dizzy? I felt it. Anyway, I just love the neckline of this dress. It's so prettily delicate.

That's about it. Oh, here's Alice! All grown up!

Have a lovely day, everyone!

Pockets Full of Pebbles

2012-01-23T11:14:00.000-08:00

What do you do when the rain draws back its veil from the mountains, and the sun and wind brush away the remaining mist? Why, you go to the beach, of course.

It's safe to say that I've come to love where I live. I've come to look around with a baby's eyes. They're wondering eyes, drinking in the sights and letting them fill me up until I feel about ready to faint. What is this feeling? I can't recall feeling the same kind of intensity, the deep affection that permeates my days, for my former home. My past, misguided self (from not so long ago, if you read back into the archives a wee), thought I did. But wow, was I wrong.

I'm a little south of my truly native range, but Turkey is the landscape that sprouted these genes and in turn, this body, like crisp greens in the garden. I feel so good here.

So I go to the beach and collect little pieces of myself. I come home with pockets heavy with pebbles and eyes full of honeyed sunlight and sky.

Of course, there's a little fishing.

My dad!

A little coffee drinking.

And lots of smiling.

And at the end of the day, the sky tucks her mountains into bed beneath their quilts of jet, and we walking creatures march dutifully home to stoke fires and knit sweaters, swaddled safely in our own blankets.

Can you feel it?

2012-01-18T06:27:00.000-08:00

Spring, that is. She's a-comin'. Well, here, at least.

Whilst sitting by the stove a wee while ago, I was suddenly overtaken by a feeling of grace. All at once, the wonderfulness of my life unfurled inside my chest like a flower, my soft, pink lungs the buds. I'm just so lucky. Perhaps it's because the lengthening days and new blooms imbue me with a profound feeling of hope.

Today, after mucking the barn (and keeping Enya from gobbling up wayward turds), I sat out in the sun with her to study my ornithological field guide. Lupin (our gray cat) came to join us, and I sat surrounded by my predator friends while birds graced us with their company. We saw some Cetti's warblers, a female greenfinch, a robin, and what I think was a yellow wagtail.

Now, as I'm sitting here, fingers tick-a tacking away at the keyboard, I've got dinner cooking in the wood stove. Mmhmm, in the stove. I don't know why it didn't occur to us to do this before, but we recently got ourselves a big terracotta pot and have cooked dinner in it in the wood burning stove every night. On the menu this fine evening is chili over baked potatoes. Nom.

And to top it all off, this unusual outfit combination (unusual for me) makes me feel quite lovely. The skirt is from one of my favorite ladies, Heather, and my purse was a too-generous gift from Milla. Thank you so much, lovely lassies!

Would you look at little Lupin? He's totes adorbz, gettin' into photos just so he can show off his behind. On a related note, I apologize for the strange quality of the photos. I can't seem to get Blogger to upload them nicely.

Well, that's all for now! I'd love to do a garden post soon, but composing one in the middle of January seems like I may be jumping the gun a mite.

Lazy Winter Days

2012-01-13T04:24:00.000-08:00

Hi! How is everyone?

It has been super chilly during the day (and at night, holy crap). I'm on vacation at the moment, but really haven't done much aside from knit, take some notes for a new book, and chores.

School begins again on Tuesday, and THIS (not last semester, as I'd hoped) is my very last semester. I'm taking just six credits in the form of two classes: Animal Behavior and Author Study: Tolkien. With classes like that, I'm anticipating pretty much the coolest and most relaxed semester ever. Seriously, I'm grinning like a loon just thinking about it!

Hayle, the tech wiz, figured out how to take my camera off auto focus, so I've been playing with it a lot lately. Here's a little look into my days.

Stevie's so big now! I can't pick her up with both hands anymore, but have to wrap my arms around her whole body and cradle her against my chest. She feels like she weighs around 20 lbs. What's interesting is that she weighs more than her man, Zeb. Though, she is a few months older, so I have to see how heavy he is once he's finished growing.

Speaking of which, here he is! My marvelous Midget White tom! I've never posted photos of him before. We got him back in September when he was a few months old and so sweetly homely it'd make you want to squeeze him. He's so handsome now though, isn't he? Recently, he's really begun to take an interest in the girls, and has even tried to mate with Agnes. They can't seem to figure out what goes where, though, and end up falling down or getting broken up by Steve. ;)

When you just look at turkeys, they seem to be very plain birds. But if you take a moment and really look, you'll see that they're heartbreakingly gorgeous. That's part of what I love about them; at first glance, they're a little homely and ridiculous, but really, there's a lot of beauty there. When Steve's in the sun, she looks like she's composed of all different hues, not just brown.

It's Ruya! She's six and a half now, but still acts every bit a puppy.

The calendula, I've learned, is exceptionally frost resistant and does so very well in the winter time! I'd really like to make some salve with the oil, but need to get some more bees wax first.

I've picked this up again recently. When I first received this book from my aunt a year and a half ago, I tried to read it, but found the author's writing very heavy. It was almost too much, and I had some difficulty understanding what she was saying. I'm kind of ashamed to say that, actually... Despite this, I decided to take a stab at it again because I felt like I needed to, and have found that holyshitIgetitnow. I suppose I just wasn't ready back then.

My computer committed suicide, so I've been knitting up tons of stuff for my Etsy store (shameless promotion) in the hopes that I'll make enough money to get myself a new one soon. This is the beginnings of a hat.

Our stove setup. The fireplace doesn't work because the guy who built it made the angle of the chimney wrong. The smoke doesn't go out, but fills up the room. Our awesome stove -- which actually works -- was built by my dad. I always tell him that he would make a good artist if he had more patience.

This is a detail shot of the Aran pullover I'm knitting for Hayle. It's a time consuming knit, but a lot of fun. I think she'll look beautiful in it when I'm done! But then again, she looks beautiful all the time.

This image as well as the one at the beginning of this post are paintings by Susan Seddon Boulet. Both are two works that really resonate with me for one reason or another, and I have two small prints of them (thank you, Milla!) on my bedside table.

What I wore the other day (what a shit photo, gosh). I wish I had some better outfit photos for you ladies, but my winter garb is 90% jeans and flannel. It's difficult to want to wear anything prettier since I'm in and out of the stove all day. I don't really mind though, since I feel very much like myself in those two things.

For Christmas and the New Year, I wore Gunnes gifted to me by Hayle and Milla, respectively. Alas, no photos. I really should get some, because both are so beautiful!

I have a more serious post in the works (well, not so serious) so hopefully I'll get that up in the near future. Speaking of which, I have a question for you ladies. Do you like when I do day-to-day posts? Like, what's going on in my life, what I'm doing, outfits and such? I know I like doing those more because they help me to look at my life through the eyes of another and really see what a charmed existence I lead. But maybe you ladies would like to see some serious thoughts? I think the most serious I'd feel comfortable getting is journal entry excerpts and the like. What do y'all think?

Stevie's nickname is "Beep."

Wishing you true winter weather and not strange January days masquerading as Spring! Beep says "bye!"

"There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something..."

2012-01-05T01:52:00.000-08:00

Hello and Happy New Year!

I hope everyone is beginning 2012 with positivity. 2011 was quite an interesting year over here, and I certainly achieved some of the goals I set for myself last year. Speaking of which, every year, I like to make a list of goals to achieve in the upcoming twelve months. I thought I'd share my current ones with you all. :)

1) Be positive!

- I'm naturally prone to cynicism, but have made a real effort over the course of the last few months and can see a significant difference in my outlook on life. Keep it up!

2) No fear!

- Don't let my apprehension hold me back from doing what I want. Work through unreasonable fear.

3) Keep improving my Turkish.

4) Write, write, write.

- Compose at least one novel or two more novellas.

- Edit my two existing novellas.

5) Get published!

- At least one piece to show myself that I can do it.

6) Knit at least one project per month.

7) Become more self sufficient.

- Improve gardens.

- Preserve even more food.

- Learn to sew my own clothing.

- Research bees for our future apiaries (this was my dad's idea, but I wouldn't mind keeping them at all).

8) Blog more!

- 2-3 times per month.

9) Etsy more!

- Make two hats/week for the shop.

10) Design knitting patterns.

- Publish my own small e-book (or even 'zine?) of patterns.

11) Walk with Enya every day.

12) Be even more conscientious about what I eat.

- No stomach pain!

- No fatigue!

13) Practice being mentally strong every day.

14) Meditate.

15) Smile and live in the moment.

Happy New Year to you everyone, albeit a little late. I wish I had some photos to show you, but I'm still without a computer. Perhaps soon. ;)

‎" I wish that life should not be cheap, but sacred. I wish the days

to be as centuries, loaded, fragrant."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Song of Myself

2011-12-28T09:57:00.000-08:00

Hey, everyone! How are you all doing? I've been busy, busy, busy, (and my computer bit the dust *sad sigh*) but things have blessedly slowed down and I'm thinking that I'll try to post at least once a month. I'm hoping to do a nice post for the New Year, but in the meantime, I found this while browsing the the net and thought it'd be fun to do!

If I were a month, I'd be December.

If I were a day of the week, I'd be Monday.

If I were a sea creature, I'd be a squid.

If I were a a time of day, I'd be 6AM.

If I were a direction, I'd be North West.

If I were a piece of furniture, I'd be a bookshelf.

If I were a liquid, I'd be creek water.

If I were a gemstone, I'd a moonstone.

If I were a tree, I'd be a maple.

If I were a tool, I'd be an axe.

If I were a flower, I'd be foxglove.

If I were a kind of weather, I'd be snowy.

If I were a musical instrument, I'd be a mandolin.

If I were a color, I'd be sage green.

If I were an emotion, I'd be hope.

If I were a fruit, I'd be a pear.

(Hell YES, I'm implying something.)

If I were a sound, I'd be the wind through tree branches.

If I were an element, I'd be earth.

If I were a mammal, I'd be a deer.

If I were a phase of the moon, I'd be a waxing crescent.

If I were a berry, I'd be a boysenberry.

If I were a bird, I'd be a turkey.

If I were a book, I'd be a biology reference text.

If I were a story, I'd be "Shadow Mountain."

If you'd like, feel free to fill this in too. It's a wee bit of fun.

Forestlass Shop Update

2011-11-23T07:14:00.000-08:00

Hurrah! I've made a long-overdue update to my Etsy shop, Forestlass. Lately, I've taken a very close look at my closet, and am listing the vintage pieces that I don't wear often enough to warrant keeping. They should to go to folks who will give them the love they need!

There are also some beautiful hats available, some 100% wool (super-soft to boot!).

Here are just a few examples of what's in the store:

The Blizzard's Never Seen the Desert Sands Gunne

Flora's Secret Gunne

May It Be Gunne

Forestlass Hat

There will be more Gunnes in the shop soon (don't worry, I'm keeping my two very favorites!).

In other news, I've been busy writing books (yes, books!), making sweaters and hats, chauffeuring my horses around to suitable grazing areas, and of course scribbling away at homework assignments. Graduation can't come soon enough!

Happy mid-Autumn days to all!

xoxo

Oh, Aran!

2011-11-01T12:16:00.000-07:00

Just a quick post, gals. I'm making this sweater for my sister for Christmas and am wondering if any of you knitterly lassies who read this here blog would be interested in doing a little KAL with me?

What's a KAL, you ask? A knit along! We knit the pattern together, exchanging messages along the way, describing our difficulties, failures, and successes! It's tons of fun :)

If you're interested, leave a comment. Maybe we can get a whole group going!

Hello, Goodbye

2011-09-30T08:05:00.001-07:00

I realize I haven't posted in quite a while... and to be honest, don't know when I will again. The truth is, I'm just not feeling it... blogging is one of those things that has seemed to grow rather pointless in the shadow of my very real, always-in-flux, life. Maybe it's also because I feel like I don't have any spare words for "Forestlass," because I don't like feeling obligated to take photos for this corner of cyberspace. I'm busy thinking, and making, and doing, and, and, and... this log isn't a priority anymore. The present moment is claiming my whole, undivided attention. This soil is begging me to dig my toes in and stay a while. The turkeys are saying, "Hey, girl. Feed us." Dreams are saying, "Hey, girl! Tell our stories." Ideas are forming, knitting is growing, the nights are getting cold. My hair is getting longer and changing hue to celebrate the trees all aflame. The horses are getting fuzzier and things are turning green.

Things are in a state of joyous fluidity and I don't even feel like trying to articulate the happiness, and fullness, and hope I'm feeling. It's too much to try to share through a medium composed of flimsy data, all numbers and letters and symbols.

I suppose I'll post here from time to time about small things. Little treasures like turkey eggs, knitted mitts, acorns, wild asparagus...

So... so long for now.

Happy Autumn, all.

Time

2011-08-25T07:23:00.000-07:00

More and more, this planet and the human incited changes it has undergone have been in the forefront of my mind. I despair quite often that I can't realistically see a harmonious, deeply loving future for us and the land. Even now, as I look out the front window and watch the big olive tree sway in the breeze, see the enormous maritime pines on the hills in front of us, and imagine the rasp of the sea against this mountain's granite roots, I can't imagine a happy future. On a small scale (in terms of destruction), from the very same window I can see the beginnings of the golf course that will certainly force us from this home from the desire to not live downwind of pesticides. I kid you not about the distance--I can walk to the edge of this course in less than five minutes. There will be a hotel and an obscene number of villas constructed over there too, though at this moment I can't remember how many... two-hundred fifty, maybe?

It hurts me deeply that I can very well imagine a future of this place and that it's not a pretty one. Perhaps some of you will be surprised, but goodness gracious, this land by the sea has worked its way under my skin and into my heart. I might not feel any sense of community with the people here, but I love this landscape with a frightening depth. It's kind of come at me from the side, dwelling like a shadow in my peripheral vision until it found its opening to suddenly ensnare me.

Recently, when I've felt in need of some breathing space, I hike up into the woods with Enya and find my favorite lookout spot. From there, I can observe a huge area of farmland in complete anonymity. The last time, an eagle flew right in front of where we sat and I smiled at it as it floated away on an updraft. When I'm walking, I can feel fear and sadness slowly dissipating and in turn feel embraced by the pines and the soft ground beneath my feet. Looking at the golden, discarded skins of cicadas clasped to trees takes me back to my childhood. I just feel so, so safe.

When I read about the Tar Sands Pipeline project (for an excellent introduction, read Mary's post here), I'll admit I had a minor panic attack. Before you read any more, go read her post, please.

The sudden realization that the people with the most individual power in this world are the ones actually making big decisions about destroying it was momentarily crippling. After I recovered from the feelings of helplessness and desperation that overwhelmed me, I went up into the woods to think. Looking at all the trees, I felt a very tangible love that brought me so much surprise I nearly cried. What's that phrase? That you don't realize what you have 'til it's gone? Then, I decided that these things only happen when the masses are silent. It's so easy to have this defeatist attitude and think, "I'm just this tiny person, what power do I have?" But the truth is, you CAN raise your voice. Of course it's difficult to get things done when you're just one. But as a group... well, progress can be made.

I absolutely cannot be silent in this issue. It's one that, should it be allowed to continue, could very well spell death for the planet and all its life. I treasure my small niche in here, as well as the entire planet too much to keep my mouth shut, or adopt a feeling of apathy.

If you want to show your support for the future, want to quit living on borrowed Time, why not take action.

You can sign the petition to President Obama, created Tar Sands Action (led by Bill McKibben).

You can join them in Washington D.C. for the peaceful protest that is going on RIGHT NOW (between August 20th and September 3rd).

Why not write a letter to the President?

(there are more great links over at Mary's corner of cyberspace)

Also, if you want to send in a photo--like the one I posted above--to show your support for the people protesting and the cause, take a look here.

Please join the fight for what is essentially life.

Embrace

2011-08-14T03:17:00.000-07:00

Hi, sweet sister-friends. I realize it's been a long time since I did a nice post, something with a little more meat than the last few. Truth is, summer is like my lazy, brain dead time. It gets hot and I don't feel like doing much during the day, save for napping and drinking good ol' H2O. This summer has been very quiet, and fairly uneventful as far as big happenings go. But, I realize I've been kind of neglecting this blog, so for the sake of keeping up momentum so I can blog in the favored colder months to come, here's a little something.

I said in my last blog entry that I'm prone to melancholy. Entirely a true statement, but lately, I've been sick of the dark cloud that follows me around insistently and so have been making a real effort at just staying positive.

Most of the time, my downfall is thinking too much about how I want my life to meet with this unrealistic ideal. It's too hot, it's not enough like NY, my garden isn't perfect, I don't get out and do awesome things I can come back here and report on. Blah, blah, blah. And then I'm unhappy. But I realized that I'm only unhappy when I compare my life to the lives of others. The grass is always greener, right?

So, instead of making myself miserable thinking of what I don't like in my existence, I've been trying very hard to delight in my circumstances which, if I'm being honest, are pretty freakin' cool. More than that, I've been trying to immerse myself as much in the present as I can. Why do I have to worry about my future when really, there's nothing to worry about? Another discovery I've made recently is that my desire for a partner in life has significantly diminished. Why am I so eager to tie myself to a fella at so young an age? Isn't it more fun to just chill by yourself, doing what you want to do and when? (*Ahem* being selfish). But really, your twenties seem to be for developing who you are as a person. That's precisely what I aim to do.

This forced positivity and presentness has actually had a significant effect on my mood, believe it or not! For the last week, I've immersed myself in knitting, reading, gardening, and just generally doing things I love. It may seem premature, but already I feel stronger and happier. Already, I'm handling other people better. I normally have a mini internal meltdown when I know I have to meet new people/people I don't like, but the other night, we went out do dinner with my father's friend and his family. This guy's wife is really a sour-faced punk, and she's not just rude when she speaks to others, but she's rude to her husband as well. I had the misfortune of sitting across from her and rolled my eyes as she freaked out when a few street cats came up to see if we would give them anything. I just smiled at them and petted an extra plump one, secretly delighting in her ridiculousness.

During our conversation (which was just a series of brief exchanges, really) she made fun of me quite a lot. At one point, she looked at me and said, "You're not tan at all, do you not go out in the sun?" (totally a bullshit statement because I'm as brown as a nut from hanging out in the garden).

I replied, "No, I try not to go out too much. I don't really like it." The sun here has super burning power, so I like to be careful.

She gestured to her lobster-hued flesh with a flourish and said, "Why, you don't want to damage your beautiful skin." Oh, the sarcasm. So clever.

I leaned forward and looked at her pointedly. "No, I don't want to get cancer." She shut up pretty quickly. Granted, the rest of the night wasn't without little pinprick words aimed at me and my sister, but I mostly spaced out and people-watched. I played duck and just let the acid rain roll off my back. Didn't even get angry, which was a huge change.

Anyway, the point is, positivity is a nice concept and it really does benefit a body to adopt it. Life is best enjoyed when you're entirely present, and that is what I want to be.

So, here's what I've been doing to stay grounded and not float off in the space of my mind.

I've been picking fruits.

My favorites.

My books for next semester came in the mail, and inside this copy of Pilgrim At Tinker Creek, I found a perfectly pressed flower.

I've been knitting like crazy.

Detail shot of one hat.

I just finished this sweater. It's based on this design, but I improvised a pattern with easier construction. The original was knit in about five thousand parts, but mine is exactly four (body, two sleeves, yoke), and the only seaming I had to do was to attach the yoke to the body. I still need to weave in the ends and make my buttons. I'm thinking olive wood?

The book on the left is for school, but I've read it already (the best!), and the one on the right is only the coolest text I've ever seen in my life. So. Many. Ideas. And instructions on how to do them!

Saving seeds. I can't guarantee that the spaghetti squash seeds will be good--possible cross-pollination with the pumpkins might've screwed them up.

Watching Steve and Agnes grow. I couldn't get a good shot of the latter--she never stays still!

Too much at one time! But, I'm planning an even bigger garden with more variety for next year. Now that I know I can do it, I'm going to experiment with a bunch of different plants. Blue pumpkins, anyone? And soon, I'll be planting our winter vegetables (beets, carrots, onions, garlic, and lettuce). Our winter is essentially just an extended Autumn, so I can grow veggies during the cold months.

They look pretty, but taste like evil stars. Not good.

Occasionally dressing prettily. Most of the time it's just shorts and a tube top, though.

This is what it looks like this time of year. It's hard to believe I'll be picking wild asparagus, parslane, morels, mallows, and other noms by early next year.

I know I posted a picture in my last entry, but I never explained. This is Lucky, the only chick of our ten chicks to survive the tick larvae invasion (hence her name). Another hen, Faramir, is now sitting on eggs, and they're due any day, so hopefully we'll have some more babies. The first already began hatching, but it died before it could break free. This seems to be a trend, and I think the problem is that the chicks are weakened from inbreeding. All but two of our chickens are related, and I think to remedy the problem, we'll get Faramir some chicks from the market to raise. New blood is necessary. Speaking of which, we've been discussing finding Steve and Aggie a tom soon. I'd like them to start breeding in the spring, but it'd be nice if they were well acquainted with their new boyfriend.

I hope you all are enjoying your summers. For me, Autumn can't come soon enough ;) It'll be nice to wear my pretty dresses again!

Life Under the Sun

2011-08-06T06:06:00.000-07:00

Hey, lovely lassies.

This update won't have too many words. I'm living in a world of pulsating colors, heat, and a brine breeze; no room for words, only feeling. As prone to melancholy as I am, it's sometimes difficult for me to recognize that I've been very lucky in my short twenty-one years of life. Here's what serves to remind me of this beautiful existence in an even more beautiful world.

On silent wings

2011-07-24T00:45:00.001-07:00

They keep coming, keep appearing. Is it a sign?

Tawny Owl (Strix aluco)

Candles

2011-07-20T02:15:00.000-07:00

Imagine lives as candles. Some are those tall candlesticks set on tables for romantic dinners. They burn at a leisurely pace, but are apt to topple for their shape. Some are hefty and squat, burning even slower than their tall friends, are difficult to upend, are secure. And then there are some that are tiny. Wee tea lights, and baby candles only an inch tall, quick to burn out or become drowned in their own wax. When the flame goes out, maybe from a breeze, maybe because the candle fell over, or maybe because it finally burned down to the end of its wick, it just goes out. Blackness.

I imagine my turkey poult, Danno's candle as one of those baby ones that was just too small to burn for as long as a sturdier life.

He died last night.

I had a black feeling in my heart yesterday afternoon, and at around eleven o'clock, I suddenly got up to go outside to check on him. When I went in the garage and turned the light on, he was still. When I walked over to him and said his name, he was still. Before I touched him, I knew he wasn't there anymore, but still, I touched my index finger to his wing and pushed gently, hoping he was just sleeping deeply. His whole body rocked away from the pressure, stiff and inanimate.

I think the whole village probably heard me crying. The keening probably sounded like some derange animal in the forest, but I didn't care.

I woke up extra early this morning, before the sun rose so that I could dig his grave before it was too hot. When one of our birds dies normally, I'll take the body up into the forest and leave it for a fox or a jackal, but I couldn't do that for Danno. There's some distance between us and our chickens; they're part of nature and risk death every day as they range freely around the property. But I raised Danno. He and Steve slept in my bedroom while it was still cold. I carried them around in a basket or in a sling close to my body when I went hiking. I took them in the car with me so that they wouldn't have to stay home alone. Danno was closer to my world, one where foxes and jackals don't spring from the undergrowth to gobble you up, so it wouldn't be right for me to leave my boy to those carnivorous canids, no matter how much they would like the meal.

The ground is always like cement here, but more so when it has been baking under the sun for months. I used water to soften the soil and dug a muddy hole, bending over to scoop with my hands, spraying mud all over myself when I used the pickax, then shoveling the excess water and dirt out. Finally, I laid him to rest in the bottom of it, wrapped in one of my old tee shirts. I said prayers the only way I know how--in spotty Arabic--as I covered him with earth, then sang him songs while I hefted a few boulders over the spot to protect him from bold predators. By the time I was finished, my face was crusty with the brine of dried tears and mud, and my arms and legs were the red-brown of clay soil. I smelled awful. But at least I buried him the right way: with respect and love.

I don't really expect many people to understand why I love a turkey so much that I'm still crying, but I do. He was everything good and sweet to be found in a bird.

Thanks to the ladies to left kind words on my last post. I did everything I could to help him, but in the end, nothing was really enough. His candle just didn't have anything left.

Please Help

2011-07-16T10:32:00.000-07:00

Hi, ladies. I was going to make a really nice post (not about our trip, because we ended up not going), but am here to make a short one about something very important.

Danno is very sick. I'm so worried about him, though I have a vague idea of what the problem is. Right now, I'm treating him with antibiotics and hand feeding him yoghurt, eggs, and his pellets several times a day, but still... I'm not a vet and feel so desperate and sad.

Please send him good, bright, healthy thoughts. I can't bear to lose him.

Flying Away

2011-06-21T06:02:00.000-07:00

What I've been seeing lately:

Growth

(old photo. I can't even walk between the tomatoes they're so big now.)

Iridescence.

Baby chard.

Thinking amongst the tomatoes.

Lots of omnomnom.

I got a haircut. Not so different, but I'm seriously considering dreads.

Oh, hai. That's Danno. Hasn't he gotten big? His snood (that little thing above his nostrils) just kills me with its cuteness. His face and neck are getting all warty too, and he's balding. It's a good thing, and I still love him despite his impending grossness. I mean, will ya look at those eyes?

I just wanted to make a quick post before I fall off the face of the Earth for the next two weeks. My childhood friend, whom I haven't seen in eight years (!!) is arriving tomorrow. She'll be here for around a week, and I have a lot of chill stuff planned. Hiking, swimming, cooking, and talking talking talking. Hopefully we jive just as well as we did when we were younger.

The day she leaves, we're takin' off on a road trip! Story time.

My dad is from the north of Turkey, from a city right on the Karadeniz, the Black Sea. I went there once, fourteen years ago, and if I try very hard, I can almost call up smells and sights. Alas, it was a long time ago, and my memories are hazy.

I know I said I'm getting used to this place. That it's welcoming me. To some extent, I have, and it is. But I've also been wondering about living in a place you know you have roots. I'm talking that's where your genes originated, for years and years and years in the past. I'm talking about being connected to a place because that's where you're really from.

I was reading Native American Testimony by Peter Nabokov, a few weeks ago, and got to thinking. If Native people could be so connected to the land that they feel complete and whole, if they had actual, physical places where myths occurred, how wonderful must that be? How wonderful must it be to be in your natural habitat?

This is my last bid for feeling like I belong here. I've been very morose lately, and restless, thinking about my future, thinking about what I want to do. I've been thinking about going back to the United States and going to herbalist school, or learning massage therapy for animals, or trying to find an internship at an animal sanctuary. Something that will give me a feeling of productivity and peace in my soul. *sigh* As you can see, I'm very conflicted about this place and life in general. Y'all are probably like, "GAWD, can you just do a happy, teeheelalala, life is great post?" But the truth is, when I feel broody, it helps me to just talk about it! So, sometimes I love it and think I can make a go at living here, but then if I really mull it over, I feel like I'll be sacrificing too much of myself. I don't know.

For now, I want to go to a place and see if it remembers me. See if it recognizes me as one of its babies and says, "Glad you're home. Why don't you lay down in the grass and take a nap. I'll watch out for you." I want to go to the Karadeniz because I feel like it might be able to help me. I feel like a displaced person sometimes, and like this is only a temporary stage in my life. Kind of like I'm a plant that has gotten too big for its pot, that's used up all the tasty fertilizer. I need to dig my toes into a new plot with plenty of room to grow. I like this place, but it's not the right place. If nothing else, visiting my ancestors' home will make me smile.

Wish me luck.

Happy Solstice.

Peace, and love, and sunshine, and salt-air. All the tastiest ice cream, too ;)

Junebug

2011-06-12T06:54:00.000-07:00

The month of June is special to me. June, to me, represents the time when all the trees' leaves deepen from that fresh green to a deeper one. Summer storms roll in and the wind tickles those leaves until they flutter up and show everyone their sage undersides. Though not any more. Now, June is hot hot hot and smells like dry pine, with maybe only one or two brief showers. I was born in June, and that summer it was so hot, my mother brought me home from the hospital in just my diaper. I suppose the fact I spent that summer mostly naked or clad in tie dye set a great precedent for the rest of my life, haha.

I'm a cancerian, a moon child. Awooo. If you couldn't tell, that is. The world of astrology is fascinating for me, especially since I, who does not like to be confined to a box, find a very comfortable home within the cancerian corners. In case you're curious:

Crabs live in the inter-tidal zone of the oceans, where tides rise and fall twice every day. This is the most dynamic and changeful place on earth, but also the most nutrient rich. Because of the constant change, Crabs have developed a hard outer shell for protection. You Crabs can use the hard outer shell of your home as your protection. But it's more than just that. Typically, your sensitive Crabs can hold your feelings quietly behind your own walls.

Crabs also have large pinching claws, and your Cancerians can hold onto things, especially from the past. You are fiercely loyal and have a difficult time letting go. But you are also quick to bring those you love inside the safety of your outer shell while you nurture them. Your love is protective, but unless tempered, can be smothering.

Your motto could be, "A good defense is the best offense." Like a Crab in its cave, your attack can consist of baiting your opponent into your territory. What appears to be a retreat to others can be your best aggressive tactic. As you feel your way through life, building your security by developing your home and family relationships, remember that unexpressed anger can turn into resentment and depression, so find someone you can trust and share your feelings.

Element: Water

Astrologically, the water element symbolizes emotion. Water runs deep; it seeks its own level and will flow until it has found it. The cycle of water is endless with the snows falling in the mountains and melting. The mountain streams join to make the great rivers that run to the sea. The tides and currents churn the oceans. Similarly, our feelings are flowing as they connect the present with past experiences. Sometimes the waters are so deep that we cannot put words to our feelings.

The water of Cancer is that of the changing tides. Regular rhythms that bring food and nurture the creatures who live there. But this is also about the water of a smoothly surfaced lake. No movement is apparent, yet beneath the surface there is movement, currents and much hidden activity.

House: Fourth
The Fourth House is related to the mother. It is where we are nurtured, and takes in not only our real mother, but all those who nurture us -- especially early in life. This is the house of childhood surroundings. It is where we retreat from the noise of the outer world.

Key Planet: Moon

The Moon is always changing, not even the same two nights in a row. It races around the Earth once a "month," and as such we are familiar with her regularly repeating patterns. Women's menstrual cycles are naturally tied to the lunar rhythm, putting them in closer touch with the subconscious realms of the Moon. But to man and woman alike, the Moon is the key to our feelings and our emotional cycles. As the key planet of Cancer, the Moon symbolizes our basic needs -- how we need to be nurtured and how we nurture others.

Greatest Strength:

Your ability to nurture others

Possible Weakness:

Fear of the past repeating in the future

June, so far, has been a strange month for me. I recently brought myself a great deal of peace by reconnecting with an old friend, healing an old wound that had been festering for the better part of two years. I've felt sad and tired, probably because of the heat that my body wasn't prepared for, though mentally I anticipated it happily. I've slept terribly all month, for reasons of which I'm not aware. I've been busy, my brain whirring at high speed in an attempt to consume words, then trying to produce equally worthwhile words in the form of essays and discussions. I've been eating very healthfully in a successful attempt to sooth my too acidic stomach. It's been an interesting thirteen days.

I measure my years here by summers. This is the beginning of my fourth and I'm hoping this year will mark the coolest birthday I've had in Turkey. And I'm hoping my twenty-first year will the best yet. I'm hoping to set a new precedent, one of bravery in my ventures and confidence in myself, decisiveness in my actions, and eloquence in my words. Here's to hope, most heady of drugs.

The Smell of Dreams

2011-06-02T05:44:00.000-07:00

Older, but cute picture of Danno!

I have a lot to say and not so much time; the shadows are growing long and my (home)work calls.

First, thank you to all you lovelies who left sweet, sweet comments on my last post. I've been reflecting on the concept since then and have a neat follow-up post planned, though it'll have to wait a while.

You'll notice that none of these photos really pertain to what I'm about to write about. But they're all I've got at the moment.

Here, listen to this. It's really good, promise (as long as you like jaunty ol' Appalachian tunes):

I love Chris Thile's butt wagging. He looks SO happy.

It, unlike the photos, is totally relevant to this story. So last night, I had a dream. I dream a lot, mostly about nonsensical things. Occasionally they're disturbing, melancholic, what have you. Last night was kind of a bittersweet one. I was in this wooden house, and my sister was learning to play violin. Well, fiddle, I guess I should say, since she wasn't learning classical stuff, but the sweet bluegrassy tunes we love so much (really, what's the point unless you can play some stuff folks can jig to?). But that's not the important part, really. The important part is that I was totally in love with the guy who was teaching her. Sometimes I create people in my dreams, but I don't usually see them very vividly. Their features are mostly vague, hair color indistinct, style of dress indeterminate. But this guy. I felt like I should know him, but I certainly don't know anybody like this in my life. I mean, if I did I would... well, I'd know, you know? (hah, I'm feelin' stupid today, can you tell?)

Made by yours truly.

He was this tall, kind of lanky fella, with hair that I was dying to touch- curly and a liquid shade, somewhere between corn and rust. He was just wearing jeans and a navy blue tee, no shoes or socks. So, all of a sudden bloop, my sister blessedly disappeared (finally, I'm learning to favorably direct my dreams) and it was just the two of us. I looked and realized that what he was reposed on was actually my bed (ooh la la). I climbed over his legs and he folded me into an embrace; I felt like a little bird wrapped up in another's wings, all warm and safe in the afternoon sun. And his eyes... so kind it shouldn't be allowed; they just radiated a happy affection that made me feel so light. While this was going on, I realized he smelled like sage. Sage? Strange, right? Anyway, imagine: wooden house, wrought iron bed with a quilt in soft cremes, blues, and pinks, liquid gold light, two people. Perfect, right?

Danno's getting so big! He's started strutting around Steve, trying to look all sexy for her.

Yes, which is why the dream had to continue, not lingering on that part to see how my pretty little mind could develop the story. Maybe it bodes well for the future. I certainly could deal with a handsome fiddler in my life, though I guess I should just feel good that my dreams are worth writing down :)

Actually, if I had a fiddler in my life, we could form a bluegrass band. I plan mandolin, my sister guitar. It'd be fun!

Omnomnom. I was eating a cookie.

Dress- Etsy

Blouse- ancient from when I lived in the US

Sandals- some store here

Necklace- made by moi

Well, I've got to get moving on my homework. This semester is really nuts so far and I probably won't post very often from now until the beginning of July. Maybe not at all. The redeeming thing is that I've been of such buoyant humor lately. I hope it never ends! Summer is finally here; my garden looks amazing and it seems as though I've kind of got the hang of cultivating food in this crispy place. Well, almost. But really, you should see my tomatoes!

Actually an old photo. The tomatoes are the size of small bushes by now.

What have you been dreaming of lately?

Home is not a house, but a feeling

2011-05-21T07:14:00.000-07:00

Ladies. It's been a while. Too long a while, methinks. At the moment, I should be writing about Wordsworth's "Lucy Poems," but hey, anything to avoid homework, right?

I've been meaning to write a grand post (grand in size, and perhaps in quality) about the concepts of home, companionship, love, and happiness. They've been in my mind for... well, for the last three years, I guess, but more so lately.

Burned up a long time ago. The trees are re-growing now.

Home. What is home? I never questioned that when I lived in New York. We lived in an old farmhouse in the middle of the forest. My bedroom was a bare-walled, honey-floored, Spartan space with great light that made my old quilt's colors glow softly. If I'm being honest, the house was distinctly uncomfortable. Don't misunderstand my meaning- aesthetically, it was a sweet little house, and perfect. But girls, the atmosphere was creepy as hell and I was uncomfortable when alone, even during the day. You see, the previous owner spent a lot of time, energy, and love moving this house from Connecticut to New York, then fixing it up, building a barn, and essentially making it perfect for his wife. But before they could move into it, she died (very movie-esque, eh?). I don't know if the space was haunted, though it carried some seriously strange vibes.

Despite this, it was home. I nearly lived out on the porch in the summer, spent time trekking through the woods with Enya. I still remember the first time I took her for a walk under the trees. It was early spring, and Enya was still all rounded edges and stubby legs. When she got too tired, I carried her home.

Those woods were the best part of living there. No matter my mood--elated, broody, angry-- I could slog through the swampy parts, catch tadpoles in the small stream that tripped through, sit in hollowed out stumps, and just be. Sometimes fear might tingle on my skin, and my blood would rush to my muscles. I'd turn around, half expecting to see a bigfoot peeking through the trees at me, but more often than not, it was a deer or lonely shadows.

It was home.

And then I left.

So nearly three years ago, I found myself here, in Turkey, when it was hot hot hot, and dry, and dusty, and windy, and just totally not what I loved and knew. Too many "ands," I know. Anyway. For the longest time, I could think of nothing other than my escape.

I got so caught up in thinking about leaving, that I couldn't really concentrate on trying to love it here. To a degree, I didn't want to love it here.

As a consequence:

Making friends has been difficult (but also because I'm shy and awkward). And I haven't found anyone with common interests. Perhaps it's because I haven't been actively looking, and am a homebody. I've also found that people are a little frightened of me. Ridiculous, right? I'm like, kind of nice under most circumstances, and really dopey when you get to know me. Before you get to know me, even. Even in high school, people told me that my intensity made them nervous, as well as my often severe facial expressions. That seems to have followed me here (you'll see why). Consequently, I've found myself craving community, wanting to be a part of a group of people that I can relate to, share ideas with, and just hang out with. The people I have met have turned out to be very fake, duplicitious, and generally not very bright. One woman (she's in her 30s) I actually did like, ended up telling my mother at a party that she thinks I'm better than her and that I don't want to bother with her. And that was me being "nice Sara." So, friendship is still a work in progress, but I know there must be cool, authentic Turkish people out there.

I remember when this section burned. Around three or four years ago, maybe on my first summer visit before we moved.

Thankfully, moving here has put me into contact with some of the most amazing, kind, intelligent, and beautiful ladies (obviously those adjectives apply to them collectively). I didn't think there were people out there like these ladies.

Recently, I received a beautiful package of thrifty goodness from Heather. I was so very excited to see this collection of clothing hand picked for me. More than the actual items though, I was touched by the thought and care that was behind the parcel. Don't laugh, but I almost teared up. I'm not used to people other than my family being so mind-blowingly kind. Thank you so. very. much, Heather.

Dress from Heather!

A little while ago, I very seriously contemplated leaving this place. But then this feeling of... I don't know what hit me. I started thinking that maybe I should take a look at how I'm living instead of seeking to just change my location. Am I trying to be content? Am I just feeling sorry for myself for not having a love interest? Am I feeling sorry for myself for not having made friends? The answers are no, yes, and yes. So why not try? Why not make an effort to get what I want in a place that could be wonderful. And you now what? I have been making that effort.

As of late, after that "I don't know what" feeling, I've found myself feeling something else. Something strange. Happiness. How is that possible? Is it that easy? Not always, for sure. Perhaps it rolled in on this wave of dry heat, long overdue? It's like, all of a sudden, when I look at this landscape, a bubble of happiness swells in my chest. The forest is fragrant under the sun, a smell that I never appreciated before, and even the now burnt grass seems a beautiful, pale shade of gold. And get this- I'm not super water happy (kind of ironic for a Cancer such as myself), but with this hot weather, I want nothing more than to go down to the beach and submerge myself in the briney sea. And its not just a mental thing; my whole body is telling me, "Go to the sea and swim NOW."

I feel like staying here. I feel like trying. I feel hopeful. I know there are people out there with whom I'll become friends. I know there's a Turkish (or other nationality) man out there, and our paths are slowly working to the point where they converge. I may not not know exactly what I want to do with my life at this moment, but there's time. All I can ask of myself is to try, and to be myself. I already know that the next time I see a guy or girl on the street with dreads, I'm going to stop him/her and express my ardent admiration for their bravery and style (extremely random, but if you ever talk with me in "real" conversation, you'll find that I go spinning off on aaalll these tangents ;) )

So, I have courage.

I have time.

And for now, I am happy and where I need to be.

Bury Me Beneath the Willow

2011-05-12T10:04:00.000-07:00

I wanted to post something kind of fun for you lassies. There's a real post coming soon, I promise, but in the meantime, you can listen to me sing bluegrass, if you'd like :)

Things That Make This Country Girl Happy

2011-04-29T11:04:00.000-07:00

1) Happy creepers. (I call them creepers because all the male turkeys I've seen creep around like ghosts. Steve and Danny are pretty much the loves of my life. Today, while I was laying down on my blanket outside, they kept hopping up on my stomach to nap. And you know what? They're better than chickens! They're quiet and thoughtful, affectionate and intelligent. And they have sweet, gentle eyes.)

2) Books that make me go, "Oh my goodness."

3) Busy hens.

4) Spending entire days outside in the sun, happily coexisting with insects of all kinds, listening to the love songs of birds and letting my thoughts fly on the wind.

5) Country girl outfits.

6) Crafts (the round thing is a rag rug, though it's not finished. I was inspired by the awesome Rose Beerhorst, who makes rag rugs and crafts of all kinds!)

7) Reconnecting with an old friend, who is also of the country folk.

8) Flannel.

9) Bitable men in flannel.

10) Pretty dresses. (Asking for advice! This dress is a mile too long for me, and it doesn't have a tier that I can neatly cut off, hiding the frayed edge under lace like I did with my white Gunne. What do you girls do in such a case?)

11) Stolen flowers. (I did actually steal this. The town planted marigolds in pots at this turnaround spot on the road. We went through there today and I jumped out and dug it out of its pot, brought it home and planted it amongst the baby calendula. Yes, sometimes I'm a bad person, but I can accept that if it means having rust marigolds.

12) Perfect light.

13) Wildflowers. (My Nana made me that hooked rug when I was little.)

What's making you country girls happy? How 'bout you city girls?

Welcome to Turkey Land...

2011-04-26T05:47:00.000-07:00

Where all your dreams come true.

Not really.

Well, kinda.

Let me backtrack a little: we got turkey poults!! I've had ducks (even a mallard once!) and chickens, but turkeys are totally new territory.

We were planning on buying a bunch of poults this spring, strictly to eat. Turkey is really the only meat I enjoy (ironic, eh?), and it's good for you, too! The only thing is, it's not so popular here; also very ironic... Turkish people usually only eat turkey around New Year's, and so finding the bird in stores is difficult out of season. And shit, is it expensive! One turkey is anywhere from 50-100TL!

Danno's on the left.

Then there's thinking about it ethically. I feel so bad when I think about turkeys on farms, crammed together, eating hormone packed food; it's cruel. They don't receive individual attention, aren't loved. And then snip, cut, they're killed, plucked, and packaged for the consumer's convenience. The truth is, at least for me, buying meat from the store seems really impersonal. I know that that turkey had eyes and a heart and a soul, but all is see is ghostly pale flesh vacuum sealed in plastic. Killing and consuming an animal has gone from a sacred part of life, something done with respect, to just another assembly line process. It makes me sad and sick. I really want to know my food, know what it eats, know its personality, the color of its feathers.

And that's how we arrived at buying turkeys. Originally, we were going to buy a bunch, but when we saw them at the farmer's market, they actually turned out to be a little pricey--12 TL each. So, I did my best job at sexing them (assuming it's the same as chicks) and picked a male and a female. With chickens, no matter how young, there's a very easy way to tell if they're a boy or if they're a girl. You kind of gently poke right beneath their butt-holes. There are bones there, and if it's a rooster, the bones will form a little point. If it's a hen, they'll form a little "u" that your finger will fit in. Honestly, I'm not sure if I picked right with these poults. I guessed correctly on our last batch of chicks, but when I re-checked these babies today, I was like, "I dunno..." We'll see. I'm hoping and praying that they're either both girls or one girl, one boy. If both turn out to be boys, my dad may insist on killing one and that's just not going to fly with me.

The one on the left is Danno, the one on the right, Steve. We like Hawaii 5-0, haha! Anyway, these two aren't going on the dinner table, thankfully. It's our hope that they'll grow up big and strong and make babies for us to eat. And since these wee ones don't have a momma, I'm acting in her stead. I'm a hen! It's a little chilly, so they sleep in my room at night, in a nice snug box on top of a heating pad. I made a nest for them out of an old hat I crocheted and put a ripped up t-shirt in it, so they're nice and toasty at night.

One of my favorite dresses- from Milla! Can you spot the turkey in this photo?

During the day, I take them outside to play! I finished school yesterday, so I have all the time in the world to take care of my wee ones. I love this kind of thing so much; sometimes I wonder if one of there reasons I'm here is to help my animal brothers and sisters. Honestly.

These photos are from yesterday, when we didn't stay out for all that long. I sat in the shade while they played around my feet. I started doing some reading for next semester already. The book is super cool though, and reads easily, so I don't mind! This break will definitely be about catching up on reading (and knitting and crocheting and writing and gardening andandandand). I also wrote a few pages of a new story I'm working on.

Today we sat out from just after breakfast until about 3PM. I set up on the other side of the house, next to the lettuce garden. I put out a blanket, doubled up so the prickly plants couldn't stab my behind, and settled in to read Jack Kerouac's, The Dharma Bums, and maybe write a little. Milla has written about it so highly that I had to read it. And oh my goodness am I glad to have a copy in my possession!!

So, I read while the babies played, then took nap breaks in my lap or under the hem of my skirt as it hung off my knee. I was originally wearing a sweater over this, leggings under it, and moccasin boots, but ended up peeling off the extra layers when it got much too hot. My reading and the almost too-intense sun inspired me to scrawl something in my journal. Would you like to read it? I'll type it out, just in case ;)

See? Outfit summer-fied

"The best day: sitting outside reading Kerouac with the turkeys at my knees. The sun blisters my neck, liquifies my hair--it softens from solid copper coils to drippy, flexible ropes, too hot to touch.

"The air smells like home and everything is beautiful. I feel beautiful and happy.

"It's so hot I wanted to strip off all my clothes and sprawl out under the fire, but I settled for my sweater and leggings. I found that my arms and back were actually damp, and my skin now smells sweet and dusty. Even the veins in my arms and hands are standing out. Every once in a while, a wind whisks through and cools my skin, tempers my hair.

"For once, I can't wait for the extreme heat of summer so that I can go hiking. In as little clothing as possible, feeling sweat pool between my breasts, at the small of my back. It drips between my shoulder blades and follows the ridges of my brows. Hiking in summer is like having a good sweat, but better; you enjoy the bone deep fatigue and cell-screaming thirst for water afterward."

Fun stuff!

Unfortunately, I didn't consciously realize that this was happening:

I know I said my skin was blistering, but I kind of ignored it...? Not so fun. But eh, sunburn never lasts long on me and this doesn't even really hurt!

Anyway, I love these wee ones so much! They're so very sweet and I feel so happy to be their momma hen!

Wishing you all wee chicks, ducklings, and poults!

2011-02-24T10:42:00.000-08:00

Spring is just edging her lovely foot in the door and that means it's time for all good gardeners to start their seeds. On the same day as my last post, I got dressed and ran outside as soon as I published the entry. We had a wee break in this spell of mist and rain, so I took the opportunity to get some work done.

I'm feeling a little low on words, so this will just be mostly photos. But I will say that I'm happy today because I got a 97 on my first non-fiction essay. That's the one you chickies read a few posts ago about my self-acceptance :)

Being careful. This year, instead of digging the ground, my dad is going to build me some big planters. The earth is super rocky and not very fertile, so it'll be easier to just use planters. I'll be able to control the amount of light and water they get too.

Boots, boots.

My madre gave me the idea of using egg cartons as seed trays. That way, I'll just be able to cut the sprouted seedling and its section off and plant them directly. No root disturbance equals happy plants.

Gardening garb.

My little buddies in their makeshift greenhouse.

It's the kitchen of the guest house and my dad built it himself! He's pretty cool and really surprises me at all the things he can do. Not only is he an amazing business mind, but he's got a great sense for building and mechanics. And did I mention he was a nurse too?

I'm not sure which seeds these are. But I planted: tomatoes (two varieties totaling about 40 seeds! We love tomatoes, if you couldn't tell.), zucchini, bell peppers, two varieties of eggplant (white and black), some sunflowers, and kale. In about two months, I'll plant squash and pumpkins. On the next sunny day, I'll start my lettuce. Its earthbox is ready and waiting. I'm going to plant the seeds super close and then pick then when they're very young. They're more delicious and I'll have them on demand.

My little water jar that I use in conjunction with...

A straw! I want to be super careful and thoughtful about my plants this year. While I water, I sing songs to them. Can't hurt, right? And I think that my voice must carry some kind of good energy. Maybe I'll sing a song for ya'll some time ;)

And now for some unrelated pics.

The almond tree out front is flowering.

Today's outfit.

Wet chickens.

And of course, the gratuitous cat photo.

What are your gardens going to be like?

Lazy old day, rolling away...

2011-02-22T00:26:00.000-08:00

So it's 10:27AM. I only got up about an hour ago (whatever happened to wanting to see the sun rise?). Sure, all the animals are happily fed, but I'm still in my froggy pajamas (and fly agaric printed tank! I love wee jokes like that), drinking too strong instant coffee and only thinking about the stuff I have to do today. I have homework to do. I have to start my seeds and start building my huge planters (this could be its own individual post, methinks). I have to plant a butt-load of orange poppies some friends gave me. I have to writewritewrite. And I have to knit (only six days to finish a sweater I'm only 1/4 of the way through). *sigh*

Can this be my theme song?

Joking aside, I had aspirations of posting about my adventures around this grand country. In the last few weeks, I've gone to so many gorgeous places, but have completely failed to post about them. I've definitely got to catch up. So, without further ado, how about I show you my most recent and by far coolest bird watching adventure?

This is an inlet only about 20 minutes from my house. It smelled wonderfully salty. I didn't grow up next to the sea. Far from it, actually. But being close to the water, listening, smelling, and watching makes me feel so great. It's like there was something that growing up in the woods couldn't give me that the sea can.

I wished I had my boots so I could go play in the mud.

I'm a very intense bird watcher. Obsessive, even. When I see a particular bird I'm unfamiliar with, the not knowing gnaws at me until I figure it out.

See?

More mud flats on the flood plain.

Greater flamingoes, dudes, greater flamingoes!

Most were still pink, but there were a few pale gray ones. The sounds these lovely birds make were probably my favorite part. So much happy honking.

There were some great white pelicans and dalmatian pelicans(!!!) too. The latter is a little more special because they're considered vulnerable; I was so happy to see some. But check it-- this is the first time I've ever seen real, live pelicans! As you age, there are so few opportunities to experience a real, magical new experience. I feel so lucky to be able to look at something with a child's eyes and feel absolute wonder.

I also saw some white stork, little egrets, gray herons, kentish plovers, and great cormorants. And some duck that I couldn't see well enough to ID.

The flamingoes migrate there every winter, and this is probably the second time I've seen them since we don't usually go out that way. Honestly, there's only one thing wrong with the whole situation-- people actually go out to shoot them. Can you believe that? Whywhywhy, I'll never understand. It breaks my heart to imagine people taking aim at the happy waders, an explosion of pink feathers when one is hit. I want to know what is wrong with people and why this isn't ILLEGAL.

At the end of the day, as we were going home, all of the birds lifted off from the flood plan and climbed high into the air. The sight of this pale pink cloud, and hundreds of goose-like calls, and the mountains, and the sun, and the water-- all of it nearly made my heart explode. I was too far to get a picture, but oh my goodness, it was one of the most astoundingly beautiful things I've ever seen, ever. If hunters saw this, would they still shoot at them, I wonder. Probably. The callousness of humans never ceases to astonish me.

Human idiocy aside, I am time and again startled, amazed, and delighted by nature. This is a beautiful planet we live on, chickies. Let's treasure it, okay?

The Path of the Master

2011-02-18T12:39:00.001-08:00

So I'm almost finished with my undergraduate degree; I have two semesters left and then BAM! I'm done (which means next January I'll be a free gal). Unexpectedly, I've discovered that I have a love for writing, nor am I a terrible writer.

Though I've always had stories floating around in my head, I never wrote them down. All this really started last year, when I took my first real writing class- a creative fiction class. And oh my goodness, did I find that I enjoy spinning a pretty yarn. I've created some characters whom I truly love and find that when I'm feeling unhappy, I can retreat and find solace in their company. Writing has become a beautiful reprieve from regular life.

For example, earlier this week, Lily the cat disappeared. I was sure she was dead. There was a hunter going crazy in a field not so far from our house (one of Lily's favorite hangouts), and I feared that he shot her. The thought made me sick and angry. I felt as though there was a hole in my chest and when I thought about her sweet face and happy, burbling voice, it clenched painfully. I was downright homicidal; nothing would have made me happier than finding who may have shot her and pistol whipping him with the butt of his shotgun, and then maybe kicking him in the mouth before I tied him to a tree to starve to death.

As an answer to this sorrow and anger, the urge to write reared up in me. The call was so strong I couldn't ignore it, and in two days, I've got 2/3 of a new story written. I'm thinking of finishing it tonight, especially since I'm a little buzzed on caffeine (I had coffee like, an hour ago. It's 11PM at the moment...).

If I sound like I'm being a little flippant about Lily's disappearance, it's only because I'm not upset anymore. SHE CAME BACK! There's a long story behind her disappearance, but the only really important thing is that she's home and safe.

Anyway, what's my point? Well, I'm thinking about applying to MFA programs and need some advice. All you ladies who have master's degrees in this kind of thing: what programs would you recommend? I'm looking for low-residency programs since I'm in Turkey.

P.S. I realize I'm becoming one of those ladies who posts so many pictures of her cats, but I can't help it (and I totally love it)! I never considered myself a cat person, but I take sososo many pictures of them it's ridiculous. What can I say? Lupin, Lily, and Alice are just so incredibly beautiful and sweet.

P.P.S. Oh my goodness, what a roundabout way I have of asking for advice, eh?

My thoughts are like spring leaves, fresh and new

2011-02-15T07:51:00.001-08:00

I'm a list maker, an idea writer, a sketcher, a dream recorder, a muser... So I keep a journal. I've probably been recording lists, ideas, sketches, dreams, musings since I was seventeen; I have three years as a journaler, then. Naturally, when I found out that I'd have to keep a nature journal for my nature writing class, I was super stoked. I write frequently already, so this should be easy. Right? Right! It IS easy and lots of fun. I did some reading for the class yesterday and was really happy to read some of Thoreau's writing. The guy was freakin' awesome. I mean, look where he lived:

His cabin in Concord, Mass.

That's like, my dream house. I'm sure I would've been over the moon for him had I lived during those time. And had I lived during those times, I would've certainly been a transcendentalist. For real. It would've been so cool. I would've been so cool.

Right on, dude!

So what does this have to do with anything? Well, I wanted to share with you girls (and any anonymous fellas who read my writings) my journal entry from today. I was feeling inspired by Mr. Henry David, and pushed to be a little more thoughtful, a little more truthful. I won't be doing any editing, so you'll be reading some messy stuff. I hope you don't mind!

"Today is beautiful and luminous. It's very warm; maybe 20*C in the sun! The anemones are rampant in the yard. It's little spots of color pooling there next to the guest house, and there under the blackberry bushes. Manifestations of Mother Earth's jovial nature.

"On days like this, I can almost feel the quickening of dormant trees' sap. It drips and crawls lazily, but the sun and uplifting birdsong stir it to liquid life.

"I can say the same of myself. Sitting the sun as I am now warms my blood and endows my flesh with a healthy flush. The birds' merry chatter and melodious song fills my chest with an unidentifiable feeling. I feel good and whole, but I feel as though something's missing too. A sweet longing. I want to garden; I want to dig my fingers into damp, dark loam. I want to walk around barefoot and feel the tickle of grass between my toes. I want to lie naked on a blanket in the sun with the man who graced my dreams last night.

"The sun makes me say funny things. My thoughts and words are like fuzzy offshoots on tree branches. They are as new and tender as spring leaves. I love it."

I know the last bit of the second to last paragraph got a little weird, but I'm working on being more honest with myself in my writing. That's what I was thinking, so I wrote it. Typing it here for you all to see is also an exercise in being less shy about letting others read what I write.

Do any of you journal?

And I will sleep out in the glade just by the giant tree just to be closer when my spirit's pulled away

2011-02-13T04:21:00.001-08:00

I've been a little absent (only ten days, but whatev). I was sick earlier this week, and then was walking, what felt like, all over Turkey. I'm all out of sorts and feel like I need to do something so I can feel better. Maybe take care of all the stuff on my to do list, clean my room, knit on a new sweater I started... I don't know. And then I'm plagued by these weird, but very persistent dreams. AND, with all this being sick and running all over the place, I haven't been able to sit out in the sun with Enya, cuddle Alice, and just warm up my cold joints.

Before I say anything else, I wanted to thank all you lovely ladies for your beautiful comments on my last post. You sure know how to make a girl feel loved. :) That piece of writing was actually the rough draft for a non-fiction essay I have to submit for one of my writing classes. Glad to see it was so well received, though I'm a little nervous because my teacher's a man. Talking about myself so frankly when I know that a man is going to read it kind of feels strange, but his job is to look at it as just a piece of writing. I still have revising to do (lots), but here's to hoping for a good grade!

In other news, I have a new camera- an early 21st birthday gift from my parents. It's a beautiful piece of machinery, and while I'm not into getting attached to things like cameras and computers and the like, I'm quite fond of this thing. I named it Zeb, after a fella I find both inspirational and extremely hot, Dr. Zeb Hogan. I'll leave you with a handful of pics taken by good ol' Zebby. The camera, not the man. Though I wish the pictures of me had been taken by the man!

Why don't you listen to this as you look?

January's finished sweater!

When Natural Isn't Enough

2011-02-03T11:12:00.000-08:00

When I stepped out of the shower today, a very real sense of comfort washed over me. It wasn’t comfort in the way one feels when they’re warm and well fed, loving and loved. Rather, it was a feeling of being comfortable with and in my body.

I looked at my toes, clean and soft as river pebbles. I didn’t mind my slightly rounded belly nor did it bother that I couldn’t see my ribs as I did all through my adolescence. And I delighted that my hips are finally womanly and soft rather than that angular androgyny I had going on for what seemed like too long.

Reflecting on my body now brings back memories. These are lip-pursing, eye-rolling memories from not so long ago, days when I was on shaky ground, still unsure about this body part and that body part.

Not by choice, I used to spend time with the wife of my one of my father’s friends. She was a woman who used her looks as a crutch. Hell, her looks were like two prosthetic legs—without them there wouldn’t even be a chance at walking. This woman was obsessed with her appearance and youth. To be honest, she was quite a trashy gal; walking around in her booty shorts and camisoles, this chick flirted with any male who crossed her path.

One day, we were on the beach together, enjoying the vibrancy of the Aegean, the cooling brush of the salty wind. My gaze was turned toward the horizon, and when I glanced toward my companion, I saw that she was sipping her hard lemonade, wide blue eyes regarding me steadily. I smiled at her innocently and she offered a cutting reply: “You should try to be more feminine.”

The remark, delivered deadpan, stunned me. I did not reply. I could not. What? What is she talking about? I’m wearing a dress for God’s sake. It’s a pretty one too—warm, honeyed gold with moss and rust thread running and leaping down the front to form a botanical design. Okay, so my Birkenstock-esque sandals aren’t the most feminine, but they’re sensible, comfortable, and attractive in an organic kind of way.

My little buddy was studying the depths of her glass then, and I thought that perhaps the insults were finished. “I mean, look at your nails,” she continued acerbically. Huh? “And you should try some makeup.” I guess the black eyeliner that so nicely accentuates my dark eyes was too subtle.

“At least your hair is nice,” she said, and tried to run her fingers through my unruly locks. Her fingers were promptly snagged on a knot and she yanked her hand back.

“Uh…okay,” I replied quietly. I was too taken aback to offer any kind of worthwhile reply to her insensitivity, but her caustic opinions remained in my mind for a long while.

They’re still with me today. I was hurt by this woman’s words, but I didn’t do anything in response. If I did anything—get a manicure, put on a lot of make up—I would be honoring the truth behind this gal’s words, honoring their worth. Of which, of course, there was none. I was determined to become happy with myself, to be comfortable, and I couldn’t let someone’s petty views stay me from my course. I'm a messy dresser, I know. I don't like to wear a lot of jewelry. And I don't like to wear makeup. I like to be natural.

Today, while the steam on the bathroom mirror dissipated, I examined my hands. They’re delicate but strong, capable of knitting pretty sweaters and digging in the garden, chopping wood and reining in horses, helping new chicks from their eggs and creating paintings. My fingernails, though uneven, are clean and hard. These are the hands of a hard worker—a little rough, a little wrinkled. But since I care about my skin, I rubbed a little organic shea butter into my knuckles.

By then, the steam on the mirror was gone and I could see my face. My dark eyes gazed back at me unabashedly, eyelashes forming clumps around water droplets. I’ve had a few compliments about my eyes, mostly about their shape and inky color. But I’ve heard more about how people find them disconcerting; there’s a strange intensity in them and they’re very serious, a little fey. I don’t mind. I rubbed some lavender oil into my face and examined my eyebrows. My black eyebrows, always very mobile, are stern and their color contrasted starkly with my light skin. They lend my face expression, projecting my emotions adeptly. Then there’s my mouth, serious also, but always willing to smile. And my nose—small, a little crooked, but still cute. Overall, it’s a nice face.

I gently combed through my freshly washed hair, and the motion stirred up one of my favorite smells—the apple vinegar I use to condition my locks after washing with olive oil soap. My hair, normally curly and a little wild, was coerced into straightness by the weight of water and my comb. Combing soothes the savage beast. I marveled at how long it has become since I last cut it. March of last year was the last time I received a professional haircut. It was short and severe, and if I’m being honest, a little boyish.

One morning shortly after that last haircut, as I was just walking downstairs, my father spotted me and made a particularly inflaming comment. “You look a little boy got his hair cut for the first day of school,” he flared. “OK,” I replied, and shuffled to the bathroom. I was freshly rolled out of bed, clad in sweats. Obviously I wasn’t looking my best. His comment hurt me and angered me, but I put it out of my mind. Everyone has an opinion, after all.

I remember the way my grandmother looked at me when she saw me. It was the first time we’d seen one another in a year and she just stared at me, mouth agape. The first thing she said to me was, “What did you do to your hair?” I replied smilingly that I’d cut it all off. She obviously didn’t like it, but said nothing more. For a little while. Perhaps a week later, I was dressed to go the farmers market and went to ask her if she wanted to come too. When I walked in the room, she gave me a quick look, just long enough to absorb my countenance—I was wearing a blue and gray plaid shirt, a red sweater, well-fitting jeans, and battered converse. She said, not in an unkind way, that since my breasts were so small, people might mistake me for a boy. Not only was my hair not good enough, but a part of my body that I couldn’t control wasn’t good enough either. Naturally, I was upset with her, and when I said as much, she quickly tried to backtrack. But the damage was done.

Ten minutes later, on our way to the market, we picked up our neighbor. As she hauled herself into the back seat, she commented offhandedly that, “I thought you were a boy! When I saw you in the car, I thought, ‘who’s that boy they have with them?’” “Thank you,” I replied dryly. She understood my tone and tried to backtrack too, but again, it didn’t matter. The damage was done and I was past the point of just upset. I was angry.

I liked my boyish hair, and all these comments made me defiant, made me seethe. What is so wrong with short hair? What is so wrong with me? Is natural not enough for these people? I never once got a compliment while my hair was short, and only now, as my hair is getting longer, have people started admiring it again. See a trend?

Yes, I started growing it out again, mostly because I missed my long hair. I started missing it only a short while after cutting it, before people began so assail me with negative remarks. I still liked the short hair too, and had to stick to my guns for a while, but silently decided to let it grow out.

Looking in the mirror after my shower, I ruffled my hair with the towel, encouraging those curls, encouraging the wildness. It’s been a while since those memories first occurred, and I am confident, proud. I looked at my hair, my face, my shoulders, my arms, my hands, my breasts, my belly, my hips, my legs, and my toes. I looked at MYSELF. And I smiled. Natural is enough.

A light from the shadows shall spring

2011-01-30T12:19:00.000-08:00

I was driven to write this because of a post Heather made on her blog. A family member’s dogs were evilly killed by some psychos high on crystal meth. The family is reeling in the aftermath, and I send good energy and love their way.

When I first read the post, I was horrified and angered. Today was a day full of goodness and light, but I found that shadows continually crept into my mind, menacing my buoyant mood and trying to sap its potency. First, I was once again confronted with the attitudes of people in this country regarding animals. A mother dog and her five puppies were dumped at the foot of this mountain, right next to the main road. No food, no warm place to sleep, no love. None of those wonderful and essential things we humans promise when we choose to share our lives with an animal. My mother and I brought them warm, filling food—rice and eggs with lots of chicken and vegetables. I looked into the mother’s amber eyes and I felt so much sadness, my throat closed, my stomach squeezed. But we just couldn’t take them home, and hoped that they would stay away from the deadly road. Soft, roly-poly puppies do not mix with speeding steel. One puppy got hit by a car. The others have, one by one, disappeared, and I’m hoping and praying that they were picked up by people with hearts, people who would take care of them.

But that’s probably not the case.

In this country, I have seen more starved and homeless dogs and cats. I have seen animals with injured legs hopping along the roadside. I have seen starved cats with dirty faces, wee hipbones jutting through coarse, filthy fur picking through garbage cans. I have seen mother dogs caring for brand new puppies, their swollen teats so sharply juxtaposed against their emaciated bodies. I don’t know what to do. There are so many.

But it’s not just this country. Our dog Ruya was found when she was only four weeks old, tossed in a garbage can. When she came into our care, our horse Asena had had 10 registered owners in her 11 years of life. God only knows how many more people owned her and never bothered to register her because she was so “mean.”

Since moving here, we’ve taken in two stray cats. Their sweetness and crazy antics make me smile and laugh. When they look at me with their honeyed eyes, little pink tongues poking from between their lips, I feel such a rush of love and affection that I can’t help but laugh, just to release that happy energy.

Can you believe that there are signs up in town telling tourists not to abandon their dogs while on vacation? What kind of world is this that people need to be told not to abandon a loved one?

I don’t understand.

Then tonight, I saw a cat in the road. It was still alive, but had been hit by a car. A dog was sniffing it, curious. Perhaps it was offering some kind of comfort while the cat passed away. I don’t know. When the wee mackerel tabby tied shortly after, I said a prayer for it, hoping that its sweet soul would be guided someplace better than here.

Again I was overcome with sadness. Why should an innocent creature meet such an end? I don’t understand.

It’s not hard to dwell on all the shadows of this Earth. It’s not hard to forget the light and embrace the darkness, to get mired in foul slush.

What I’m trying to say is that it's too easy to be entangled and dragged down by the evil in the world. Instead, we should use it for fuel to shine a light into the dark. And we should hold onto the good with all our might, turning both into something beautiful- good deeds, kind words, and love.

Today, when I felt like I was stumbling in the dark, I grabbed onto a memory from a few days ago: my interaction with a common blackbird. The wee passerine was in the chicken coop when I went outside to get rid of ashes from our stove. I accidentally startled it and saw the bird panic and become stuck in the coop's netting. I had to help, so I went over quietly. Very gently, I folded the bird's glossy black wings against its body, then worked its toes loose of the net. As soon as it was free, the bird turned around and bit my finger! I smiled and marveled for a moment at its beautiful feathers, its warm brown eye. And what a privilege to be holding a wild bird. We left the chicken coop and I opened my hands to release the bird. It flitted a few feet from me and landed on the ground, looked back at me once, then flew away. I like to think that the gesture was a 'thank you,' and maybe a 'sorry for biting your finger.' Probably not, but it makes me happy none the less.

So hold onto what makes you remember your faith in the world, whatever that may be, and be a beacon in the dark.

Sick day (or what I do when I feel ancient)

2011-01-29T06:09:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm not really sick. But I hurt my back two days ago (again... this happens all the time). It was just sore yesterday, nothing major. Then, last night, I woke up at around 2AM from the pain. It was like someone sticking a fire poker in my back and twisting it around. Or like some errant star found its way into my muscle and decided to explode. And then explode every time I moved. I'm not usually a baby about pain, but this was beyond the normal soreness.

You see, a few years ago when we were moving into this house, I helped my dad carry all the heavy furniture. I'm pretty strong, which means I'm his go-to-girl when something needs to be moved. He loves having a tough daughter- as good as a son at physical work, but... well, a girl. Consequently, my realistic limits and my father's idea of my limits are totally not in sync. He thinks I'm the Incredible Hulk. Anyway, we have this heavy-ass couch that needed moving and naturally, I grabbed one end (in my dad's defense, my ideas of my limits were a little off too). Lift from the knees, hup, OH SHIT IS THAT MY BACK?! At the tender age of 18, I killed the muscles in my lower back (apparently I wasn't lifting from my knees). I can still do heavy work, like chopping and carrying wood, but if I'm not careful, I'll pull my back and be out of commission for a few days.

This time, I think I irritated it getting too crazy on the tennis court when it was 5*C and before I was warmed up. Then I made it worse by carrying wood in the pouring rain yesterday. And so, last night, my muscles were eating themselves and I was having agony induced, trippiest of trippy dreams.

Today, it feels like it's going to snow, it's freezing in the house, and I'm babying my back big time. I've got a hot water bottle (ahh...) and several wooly layers to keep my 80 year-old's back toasty. But I'm having a pretty good day!

Hi!

I am:

1) Knitting on that orange sweater I showed you guys a few posts ago, and only have about a half sleeve, and the cowl-ish neck to finish before the month is out. A goal of mine this year is to finish one sweater a month, plus a few projects in between including another hat and a pair of mittens. Ooh, my sweater plans would make a fun post. Well, a pretty post, at least.

2) Drinking my favorite tea (strawberry green tea, if you were curious), out of my favorite mug.

3) Planning some advertisements for my illustration class. One is for a yarn store, and the other is for a made-up convention. I'm supposed to use a real event, but I have no clue what's going on down in town, other than a jazz and classical music bonanza. Oh, that might be a fun thing to design a poster for, huh? I do so love drawing head scrolls.

4) Procrastinating on starting some essays. Well, not really. They're not due for another few weeks and I don't have all that much to do until Monday. I should really start them though. Anyway, Heather expressed an interest in my readings for nature writing, and I can only comply :) My texts for the class are Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place, and Being in the World: An Environmental Reader for Writers. I've read most of Refuge and found Williams' words haunting, her story heartbreaking. For the latter reason, I have to say that the book isn't my favorite. Her mother's death reminded me of my grandmother's and I wasn't left sobbing because of her mother, but because of the memories it dredged up from years ago. That said, the other text is pretty rad, if only because of it being an "environmental reader for writers." I just love that. It's a collection of essays from a wealth of different nature writers. I've only read about five essays, and all the works were about place- examples of its accurate representation. Thus, there was a lot of focus on geography and my attention wasn't totally arrested, but I can't say I minded the reading. There are a lot of other essays that look really great though, and I'm excited to dive in.

What I really want to mention is an essay that my professor wanted me/us (I don't know how many other kids are taking the class because it's an independent study) to read. It's "A Literature of Place," by Barry Lopez. Lopez talks about how the environments people grow up in shapes their imaginations. For Lopez, southern California acts as a kind of touchstone in his work- it's where he returns to again and again. I found this particularly interesting because in my writing, I often evoke New York like forests. Lopez also discusses the ways in which we can connect with the land, and how if we do, it knows we're there. I wrote a huge, long journal entry about it, but really, you should just read it.

I leave you with the gratuitous cat shot below:

Behold! Jesus Cat!

And this is so unrelated, but does anyone have any advice as to how I could wear this vest other than the way I have here? I've had it for like, six months and can't figure out how it would look nice.

Forestlass will be back after these messages:

2011-01-27T07:44:00.000-08:00

I'm taking a little break to do a little... advertisement, I suppose. But dagnabbit, this is my blog and I can do what I want! A little shameless promotion is good :)

So, I have an Etsy shop called Forestlass. There are some vintage items in there (like the gorgeous Gunne above), but mostly handmade things.

Forestlass was born when I first moved here and took a one year hiatus from school. I suffered from intense boredom and started making things to preoccupy myself. In two months, I made something like twenty hats. Obviously, things started getting ridiculous. There was no way I would wear twenty hats, nor would I wear the thousand more I had ideas for. And I didn't have anyone to give them away to. So I decided to start an Etsy shop. Couldn't do any harm, right?

All of the photos throughout are of items for sale in the shop right now. So check it out, dudes!

Also, the Gunne Sax skirt below is a little too small for me and I'm looking to swap with someone for another one that will fit me. Anyone out there want to do a wee trade? The waist is about 26", and it's a size 9.

I'm feeling lazy

2011-01-26T09:44:00.000-08:00

And I'm tired of being thoughtful. School started last week which is why I haven't been on much. But my classes are neat so far. I'm taking Creative Non-Fiction, Listening to the Land: The Literature of Nature (just a gussied up name for nature writing, I guess), and Illustration. Very artsy-fartsy. But so far the readings are engaging and the assignments aren't so hard. The reading for nature writing is plain awesome, and the writing is so easy because I'm writing about stuff I love (nature, duh). But for now, I want to do a post of pretty, silly, and lovely things that make me happy.

Innocence.

Memories of what was.

Playing and singing at the top of my lungs.

Pretty dresses from even prettier friends.

Misty mountains.

Transformation...

...health, and radiance.

Writing.

My days of gender ambiguity (trust me, people thought I was a boy on several occasions).

Having long hair again.

Cuddling.

Finished knitting projects

Well-loved shoes.

Renewal.

Dreams.

Divinity.

And of course, handsome men.

What's making you smile today?

The Gardener

2011-01-19T08:44:00.000-08:00

Since we've moved to Turkey, I've gotten much closer with my grandmother. My father's mother. She's a lady I'd only seen a few times in my life, albeit for extended periods. Now that we live here, she and my grandfather come to visit us once a year and stay for several months. The first time she came to visit us, she made a CRAZY lettuce garden and in the beginning, I really had no interest. But after she left and the garden became crowded with edible stuff (lettuce) and non-edible stuff (prickly nasties), I decided that I had to take care of business. So, I spent several hours crawling among the tender leaves, ripping out weeds and transplanting the overcrowded lettuce. It was like drugs. Every year since then (just two), I've made a garden. There's just something so magical about digging my toes and fingers into the dirt and coaxing life from the earth. Though I haven't been extremely successful- the first was an utter failure, but second slightly better. It was still pretty sucky though.

Not enough fertilizer, things planted too close together. Plus, the beans and corn were favorites of the tortoises. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love these little guys. They're such a novelty! The closest thing I ever saw in the wild in New York was a big old, mean looking snapping turtle that made its way through our yard.

But once they've munched their way through the beans and bendable corn stalks, they turn their insatiable hunger on the tomatoes. Pretty fruits that are almost ripe fall victim to these vicious reptiles. They crawl around and take a few bites (sometimes only one!) and move on to the next one.

And then there are the cucumbers and melons. I made the mistake of planting them too close together, not watering them enough, and getting water on the leaves. I guess last year's garden was a failure too. Just not as big :)

This year will be different though. I've written out what plants I want, read up on how to properly care for them, planned how much space will be allotted to each group of veggies. And I just ordered my seeds from an Etsy seller. This year, I'm going to grow: basil, carrots, chard, cucumber, eggplant, lettuce (in a really interesting, easy, and delicious way. You plant them super close and then just eat the young leaves as they grow. It's very fast.), watermelon, summer squash, bell peppers (a Cali. variety), super hot bush peppers (though we've had them for two years. They always survive the winter), summer squash, chives (I'll count it as a veg. even though it's an herb), and tomatoes (three different kinds!). The carrots will be for this spring, but the rest should be okay for the summer.

I dream about having a very extensive herb garden so that I can make my own oils, tinctures, and teas. So, this year I'm kicking things off with basil, calendula, sage (which I've collected from the woods and am rooting in pots), lemon balm, echinacea, chamomile, and peppermint. I already have a lot of rosemary, a big old lavender that I planted a few years ago and have been cutting back every year. It grows back beautifully. I also always have parsley. We also have this strange herb that they call "coffee" or something in Turkish. I don't know the exact name and so can't translate it. It smells nice though.
I also ALWAYS have sunflowers. I love them and started off my first year with some ancient seeds from the USA. They grew beautifully and I've had them every year since, grown from the previous year's seeds. Since I love this color so much (see below and above), I only collect from these flowers. In just a short time, I've got a completely rust variety!
Speaking of flowers, I'll also be planting morning glories like crazy, violets (yum!), asters, and poppies!

My goal is to be an excellent gardener- one who doesn't just enjoy the work, but also is able to enjoy the fruits of her labor. I want to be the lady who has herbs for every ailment. In fact, some day I'd like to take some classes in herbalism so that I'll be able to use my herbage in the most effective way possible! Some day, some day. Oh, that reminds me! In the future, I'll have to do a post on the wild edibles in our yard. My grandmother taught me all about those and I just learned about a new one today. I thought it was a weed and have been pulling it up. It's actually an edible succulent!

Happy gardening!

Just a regular day

2011-01-12T03:22:00.001-08:00

Yesterday was, as the title says, just a regular day. But it was a lovely regular day, one of those days where moments seem so perfect that I wish they would never pass. After the very cold nights we've been having, a sunny sky and a warm sun are very welcome.

Living here, the only times it's pleasant to sit in the sun are in November, and then from maybe March to May. Other times, it's too cold or just too hot. And the sun in the summer takes on this whole new intensity to the point where you can feel your skin start to burn uncomfortably by staying out for just a few minutes. So I'm really loving having some warm days in January. Maybe it'll encourage the grass and flowers to grow?

One of the first anemones of the season.

I got quite a bit of knitting done, and as I said before, I'm working this sweater, but instead of doing in tons of pieces, then seaming them up as the pattern dictates, I worked out the math to do it all in one piece. That's the only thing I don't like about Norah Gaughan's designs. They're all knit in far too many pieces for me to even want to try the "right way" to knit the pattern. For the increases on the arms, I used some invisible increases instead of yarn overs. That way, I get the seamed look of the original without any holes.

I also cuddled Alice, who's growing up to be a very pretty little cat.

And kept an eye on our pitbull Ruya, who I think must have some hound dog in her for her wandering ways and always sniffing sniffer.

Tosun, the rooster and father of nearly all our chickens also sat with me the entire day.

So did Alice's best buddy, Lupin.

And Tiffany, the wee wanderer, worshipper of Ruya.

This is what I wore. Kind of...messy, but I was comfortable and happy nonetheless. Here's another outfit I failed to post:

I wear this dress ALL the time and wanted to do something a little different. This sweater is also my favorite at the moment. It's nice for warding off the winter chill.

I also thought a lot about some art projects and writing. With the new semester quickly approaching (only 6 days of vacation left *sob*), I realized that I need to do some writing on this new story I've been [thinking about but have miserably failed at] working on, as well as do my yearly self-portrait. I'm thinking this photo would be a good reference. It's nice to do a self-portrait every year so you can see what kind of physical changes you've undergone. It's like taking a snapshot of yourself, but much more time consuming and rewarding. This one will probably be in oil paints, as I desperately need the practice. I've also been thinking about doing a series of oil portraits with the theme "natural beauty," and have been searching for good female subjects. So far, my lovely friend Chelsea Rose (isn't her body painting work amazing!?), has given me permission to use one of her self-portrait photos as a reference. She's so cute and fairy-like, it'll be a joy to paint her.

Well, I'd better be off. I need to plan out my work schedule for the upcoming semester. And maybe make some tea...? My throat's killing me today, and a nice hot cup of chamomile tea with lemon and honey would really do the trick!

My Dreams

2011-01-11T05:42:00.000-08:00

This bears a startling resemblance to my dreams, though I'm never as well dressed and the ending is always different.

Lifetime Collective Fall/Winter 2011 from Salazar on Vimeo.

Wow.

A Favorite

2011-01-09T06:57:00.001-08:00

One of my very favorite songs on the planet:

I don't even know how many times I've listened to this.

Dreaming In Canids

2011-01-07T07:13:00.000-08:00

My girl, Enya.

My entire life, I have had kind of an uncanny way with dogs. I love them, and always have. This can probably be attributed to the fact that I’ve never not had a dog. When I was born, my mother had one. Then, when I was a little older, we had two Kangals (a Turkish breed, primarily used for guarding livestock), some of their babies, and now, two pitbulls and a little yappy thing that belonged to my grandfather. I grew up rolling around on the floor with the Kangals, who were massive dogs twice my size, but gentle nonetheless. Sometimes I wonder if growing up that way, so close with my canine friends, maybe a little part of me is dog. More likely though, being raised alongside those animals helped me to hold on to that wildness that usually only children seem to be able to touch. Dogs sense it and know they have a friend in me. Do you know what I mean?

As we grow older, it seems like we humans lose connection with the wild. Gone are our days of roaming on the ultimate playground—nature. We don’t climb trees anymore, we don’t make mudslides after heavy rains. We don’t lay in the grass and look at the blades up close, smelling their clean green smell, the darker damper smell of the earth underneath. People become concerned with jobs, and money, with owning things. Of course, jobs and money are important, but at what cost?

I think it’s possible that there are so many depressed people, people who feel like no amount of money and success and stuff they acquire is ever enough, because what they’re longing for isn’t something tangible. It’s that severed connection with the wild. What we’ve lost is a huge part of ourselves because we are this earth. We sprung from it and after our bodies fail, we will go back to it. And I can’t even begin to articulate why our souls want the connection… perhaps it’s because our physical beings and our spirits are so tightly intertwined, that a separation of desires is impossible; our souls want what our bodies want because…well… what’s the difference?

If you’re interested in this at all, I whole heartedly recommend the book, Shadow Mountain: A Memoir of Wolves, a Woman, and the Wild, by Renee Askins. It’s beautifully composed; Askins’ writing is so poetic it made my heart ache, and her story is incredibly uplifting. It made me feel as if there is some hope for we humans and our ability to reconnect with the world.

So, back to the canids. When I was 15, I volunteered at the Wolf Conservation Center in South Salem, NY (If you’re ever in that area of NY, GO VISIT. It’s an amazing place.). I got my buddy Hans to join with me. Mostly, the two of us shoveled wood chips around the edges of empty enclosures, places that future wolves involved in repopulation efforts would temporarily dwell. There was one red wolf by the name of Maya that I was absolutely head over heels for. She was much too friendly to be released into the wild and was to be sent to a zoo in (I think) Michigan. While Hans and I worked, she stood near the fence and watched us intently. One day, I decided that I was done just watching her watch us, wondering why she was standing there, and walked slowly over to the chain link fence. What’s the harm? She was going to a zoo, after all. I poked my fingers through and she first sniffed them, then I v e r y slowly touched her fur. She moved not a muscle and let me gently scratch her on the head. Needless to say, I was over the moon. It wasn’t until Hans tried to walk over to the fence that I realized that something kind of special, even more special than what had just happened, was going on. As soon as he drew within a few feet of her, she took off into the woods.

Stray dogs on the street follow me around, dogs that are supposed to be vicious roll over and let me rub their bellies. Perhaps I should start going by Dog-Girl?

The thing that confuses me though, is the dreams I have. In my normal, everyday life, I’m surrounded by many animals other than canids. Yet still I dream about foxes and wolves, coyotes occasionally. Often, they’re attacking me. I dream about people who turn into wolves and they stalk the dark edges of my dreams, waiting until the right moment to tear me apart.

The most singular and profound dream I’ve had was not so long ago. In it, I was fighting with a wolf. Her coat was a lovely—ruddy, silver tipped in some places, and clouds of cream blended into gray and orange. We were struggling in the grass, and I was holding her jaws away from me with both hands. I knew that the fight would end with one of us dying, and that it wouldn’t be me. In the midst of the fight, we looked straight into each other’s eyes and hers, a luminous orange, bored right into my heart. I didn’t want to kill her. I loved her with all my heart, and the knowledge that she would die hurt me so much. But I had to. Interestingly, it wasn’t me who hurt her. It was my father. He did something to her, shot her maybe, but it didn’t kill her. There was blood everywhere—blood on my hands, blood on the ground, blood on the wolf. Then I woke up.

I don’t really know exactly why I dream of canids, and I certainly don’t know why they’re always attacking me… it’s a little unsettling.

**On an unrelated note, here's the newest member of our family, former street cat, Alice. She was dying before our friend picked her up and took her to the vet. Now she's living with us since the aforementioned friend had to go back to the USA.

She's watching me knit.

The finished owl sweater! It's a little small. I'm going to make another in cream MUCH bigger.

My current knitting. It's Kaari, by Nora Gaughan. I don't like that it's knit in separate pieces, so I worked out the math and am knitting it in one piece from top to bottom.

A Wee Tune

2011-01-06T01:44:00.000-08:00

Loving this today.

Ikibin Onbir Geldi

2011-01-03T04:48:00.001-08:00

A few days before the New Year, I had the urge to get out my journal. I hadn’t kept a journal for about a year and a half, but as of late, I’d thought starting again. This seemed like a perfect opportunity, so I pulled the book off its shelf and penned an entry about my goals for the coming year. Every year I write out my goals—and I say goals because to me, the word resolution is ubiquitous to the point where it has (again, to me) become clichéd. Resolutions are promises people make that won’t be kept. This aside, I set goals with the idea of happiness in mind. I want positivity in my life, and feel really good about this year. SO GOOD.

For some reason, a feeling of hope has pervaded my mind. It’s hope for this new year, and I’m almost certain that good things are going to happen. There’s something important approaching me, or maybe I’m drawing nearer to it and it’s simply waiting. I don’t know. But if feels as if some long-still wheels are slowly but surely turning.

This year, I will be productive; I will knit, write, draw, paint, read, cook, play the mandolin.

This year, I will be strong.

(source unknown, it was on my desktop.)

This year, I will be giving, sharing my possessions with people, parting with things I don’t need.

(This dress is looking for a new home.)

This year, I will let go to things that need to be let go.

This year, I will hold on to things that I should never have let go of.

This year, I won't be afraid to make myself happy.

This year, I will love.

This year, I will be loved.

This year, I will embrace myself and all my strangeness.

This year, I will enjoy my life up on this beautiful mountain before it falls victim to "progress."

This year, I will continue to be as kind as I can, and then strive to be kinder, to the environment I love with all my soul.

This year, I will garden, make my own clothing, and do all I can to distance myself from consumerist habits.

This year, I will sing songs of soaring joy and songs of shattering sorrow, and I will do so with all my heart.

I wish you all a year full of…well, all that you wish.

You step into the Road,

2010-12-29T07:50:00.000-08:00

...and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.

-Bilbo Baggins (just in case you weren't sure :) )

I go on trail rides quite a lot, and have been blessed with abundant government protected forests to explore. Since this area is very dry in the summer, the forestry folks have cut many access roads so that fighting fires is possible. Incidentally, they're the perfect trails for me and my partners in crime, Lakota and Enya, to traverse. I thought it might be nice to bring a camera along and photograph our wee adventure.

Lakota: the most important member of the group. He's an Appaloosa/Quarter Horse cross, and is consequently a very sturdy little thing. We got him when he was just six months old. I broke him to ride myself, though I dislike the word "broke." I didn't break him at all... just got him used to having a saddle, bridle, and rider. He's very sweet- the sweetest horse I've ever met, in fact.

Ready to go!

First part of the trail.

Making our way along the top of the ridge behind our house.

Emerging from a mushroomy path.

The view from the top of the hill. Yes, that's a cell tower...

Down the first access road. We usually gallop here on the way home.

The view where the trees are smaller. This burned probably 10-15 years ago, judging by the size of the baby pines. That's Enya, wearing her backpack. She carries water for herself and my cell phone.

Into the wood.

And out of the wood. I took a photo of these because the sight of these high tension wires always makes an impression on me. Reminds me that no matter where you go, places invariably bear the blemish of the human activity.

The path split into two and we went left.

I got off here to hand walk him up the hill. Thought he maybe needed a little break.

The anemones are coming up. I also saw lots and lots of wild oregano and even more sage. I'll pick the latter around April to dry for tea.

At the top of the mountain stands a clearing absolutely full of birds. I saw some common blackbirds as well as tons of wee brown blurs that moved so fast I could discern nothing other than their color.

The view from the edge of the clearing. The wind was cold and damp, smelling of rain.

Very, very old water cistern. They're everywhere in this area. Many are full of water, as they should be, and most are home to bats, scorpions, spiders, camel spiders... the list goes on.

Another along the way home.

He heard some cow bells jingling through the trees. Thankfully, we didn't see the creatures bearing them.

All that took about two hours. Going on these rides helps me to relax and feel more in tune with nature. I scarcely talk the whole time, which is very refreshing. Silence is welcome... essential actually, since I don't want to attract unwanted attention from interlopers collecting wood. Encountering men in the woods makes me nervous and I don't take Enya with me for nothing. She loves the trips too, so it's a bonus. Also, if we're quiet, I get to see the eagles that make their eyries at the tops of these old hills. That's a really special treat.

A Little Musical Inspiration

2010-12-27T10:40:00.000-08:00

From the love of my life, my very favorite fella in the musical world: Chris Thile.

Here and Now...

2010-12-26T06:03:00.000-08:00

A Modern Day Hobbit’s Tale.

I am, in fact, a hobbit. I’m on the small side (though not of true hobbit stature), I love tea and good, simple food made from wholesome ingredients (particularly root veggies). I’m fond of agricultural areas, ones with nice gardens and good, strong trees. I’m even fonder of the forest, especially damp, verdant ones with lots of ferns, mushrooms, and a soft carpet of decaying leaves. I hate to travel. Last, my style errs towards the hobbit-like too, though not all the time.

See?

I’ve tried to keep a blog in the past, but lost interest. I think it’s because I lost focus and didn’t take the time to really compose thoughtful posts. This time, I’m determined to create something lovely, something that highlights the good points of my life. Something that’s interesting, perhaps even charming.

I live in a beautiful place, atop of an often misty mountain. At the moment, life is fairly simple, though I’m sure it’ll become more complex. Alas, complicatedness isn’t something I enjoy in life—things become too muddled. Anyway, this will be a blog of my life; I’ll write about knitting and nature, and everything in between.

I’ll begin with knitting. Here’s my current project. I switched up the gauge a little to suite the available yarn and needles. Rather thanthe lighter gray of the original sweater, I chose a darker slate gray. It goes very well with the colors in my wardrobe (anabundance of autumn hues). My only complaint is that I made a mistake in mycalculations and ended up making a size that will allow me very little ease. When I set out to do this project, I did so with the idea of a chunkier sweater in mind. Oh, well. This, hopefully, will be nice anyway.

(photo source unknown; I'm bad and drag and drop photos onto my computer...)