The Furious Spinner

Ahhhh, it's that time of year, isn't it? Outdoor concerts, graduations, anniversaries. This weekend we had a mini-blues festival here in town, down by the water. It started to storm midway through, so I didn't stay long. After Mario got off work we went to (Linda's daughter) Serena's graduation party. In Michigan, we call them graduation open houses. People drop in and out, leaving presents—mostly money—and they usually happen on the same day (or days) so you can go from one to another. As I stood looking at Serena's photos through the years, I got a lump in my throat, and I was glad I was wearing sunglasses. It was difficult to believe the little girl who sprawled on our living room floor watching movies was now the same person who was graduating from high school, moving on to college in the fall. I know it's a cliche. I don't have the words right now to describe how much I love her and her mother. You all have the same feelings for people in your life. I'm sorry her mother is sick, and I hope her future is filled with happiness and joy. Blessed be.

You've been hearing about Linda and Serena for years now, so here they are, at the party on Saturday. Linda is telling us all about what a joy it has been to have such a wonderful person as her daughter.


On Sunday, Mario and I cleaned out our back porch, then we put up a fence. When we went to the hardware store in town to get fence posts, I noticed a fish in the window—one of those Christian fishes. I guess I had the devil in me because I said, "What does that fish mean?" "What fish?" "That fish in the window." The guy looked down. "Does that mean if I'm not Christian I can't shop here?" "Naw, that fish has been in the window for thirty years." Hmmmm. I don't know if that was true, and I don't know why I was so ornery about it. I guess I was tired of it being shoved in my face.

All weekend, I kept sneaking looks at the front pages of newspapers we passed or turning on the news when we were in the car. My sweet husband was attempting to keep me unplugged after noticing I seemed to be headed for a brown-out—in a loving and humorous manner, of course. At one point, he said, "You don't want to really hear that do you?" He was referring to the news on NPR. "Well, how am I going to be an informed citizen if I don't read the papers, listen to the news, or go online?" "Read People like everyone else," he said. That left me giggling. He's a charmer, my guy.

He was also not happy with putting up the fence, etc. He doesn't like outdoor work, to say the least, but he was pleased our cheap little fence only took about an hour to put up. As you may remember, I took down the other fence because it was falling apart, plus I couldn't see my garden from the dining table, just the fence. This time I decided to make our porch the south part of the fence, so now our yard and porch are fenced in. The Kuan Yin Peace garden is on the other side, but I can still see her when I'm sitting in the Addie chairs on the porch.

I don't have a "before" picture, so you could see what a mess the porch had been. We usually clean it up once a year. Now it'll be a nice place to sit during the hot summer days. We eat lunch and sometimes dinner out here. Mario will sit here while I'm working in the garden.

Our camera took this photo, so we'll blame it for the poor everything, except for the fact that we look a bit peculiar. We have to take the credit for that.


Yesterday was Solstice. I know many people believe today, Tuesday, is Solstice, but it isn't. Since last year was leap year and the Solstices and Equinoxes are points in time with an exact length of time between them, the date of the Solstice varies from year to year. When our calendar is adjusted for leap year, it takes a year (more or less) to get the Solstices back on the 21st. Winter Solstice is on the 20th this year too. They're not exactly moveable feasts...but sort of.

We got up and hiked Falling Creek. I'm so irritated that Falling Creek (not its real name) is getting publicity. As I've said before, fame does not bode well for sacred and beautiful places. When we used to go on Mondays, no one else would be there, same with midweek. Yesterday, five people were ahead of us on the trail. All of that would be OK, of course. I'm not really that selfish. It's just that more people mean more wear and tear on the place. Plus people feel the need to leave their @#!* toilet paper everywhere. When we got to the falls, the five people were chattering away, with no sense of...common courtesy. I'm sure if cell phones worked out there they would have all been using their cell phones.

Mario and I enjoyed ourselves anyway. As we were walking toward the falls, I stopped at one point and said, "You know, midsummer and Solstice, this time of year, is when you're supposed to be able to see fairies more easily. So some say." Mario nodded. I don't know that either of us believed or disbelieved this little piece of information, but we started walking again. About six steps later, Mario said, "Kim, look down." At my feet was a sticker someone had dropped. A sticker of a leprechaun! We laughed. "Well, I guess it's true," I said.

The woods were rather strange on Monday. Both of us remarked on it. We couldn't quite describe what it was: but it felt like everything was something else. I saw a girl sitting off to the side of the trail, her legs pulled up to her chest, and I thought it a bit strange she was sitting in that spot, but I was very startled to realize it was a stump. This happened a couple of times. My heart started racing. I told myself to breathe deeply: I wasn't insane. It was just nature. I remembered when I was a girl I would sometimes see things. I told my parents, at first. My mother was (and is) extremely afraid of insanity. I'm sure she thought I was crazy and took me to a doctor. Once they had me go through all kinds of tests because they thought I might have a brain tumor because the room would spin at night (I think I've mentioned this before). The message I got from all this brouhaha was that seeing things made someone crazy or sick, so my body automatically produces those anxiety chems when anything like this happens. Still, I felt a bit connected to Nature for a little while, as if everything was trying to communicate with us. Thank you, Nature spirits!

I didn't lighten up this photo because this is exactly how it looks on the trail (Falling Creek). It is very dark.


Some gorgeous Oregon Grape. I doubt this is healthy, but it certainly is beautiful.


In the dark forest, this white snag was like a long slender light—or the odd one out, just a bit tipsy.


At this point in the trail, we're just a few minutes from the falls. The weather and ecosystem are different here from the rest of the trail—a kind of microclimate of its own. The plants are succulent, for the most part, and it's moist here nearly all year round.


We're almost at the falls. You can see part of them and get a sense of the size of everything if you use my five feet tall frame as a measure.


'nuff said.


After our hike, we went home and sat on the back porch making prayer flags. We wrote out our wishes on them and then tied them to a string above the fence. I put the string (and the flags) up to protect the deer. I didn't want them running into the fence and hurting themselves. We asked the Wind to carry our wishes to their destination so that they might come true.

Today we're getting ready for a program tonight at the library. Together Mario and I are going to talk about our twenty-five years together, plus we'll read from our latest books. We hope to sell a few, too. The program is called Entanglements.

Tonight is Full Moon. Enjoy.

All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.