Thursday, August 23, 2012

a weekend party near Mud Bay

there are markers that let you know you are in the right place

and cows across the road

the house is gradually changing color

I remember this field being tall with hay,
and looking up through it to the sky

early morning walk to my beloved Perry Creek, the tide going out

always changing patterns to see, water and rock and wood and mud...
what does not show is the swooping patterns of swallows dancing in the air under the bridge

the woodpile makes a different kind of pattern

rusty garden weasels like fallen stars

under the appletree, the young chickens are growing up,
three of these hens will eventually come live at my house

later that day, it was time for a small expotition,
and the light showed the green in Jen's braided hair

Toshi practices balance, while the writer and the birthday girl follow

turn to look down the valley, these clouds in layers caught my eye

and just behind me, the children also practice balance

Look! almost the whole pack... en route the bakery on the other side of the bridge.

Looking up high over the countertop, inside the Blue Heron.
The soft light spills across the plants and barely shows the folk art
portrait of the shop on the wall above the espresso machine

Mud Bay, another view I never tire of, always different. The blessing of living near here for several years is one for which I will always be grateful

the Mud Bay tire, all encrusted

Later that same night, the party had good fun, good friends, and good food. B manages the wood fired oven, and some amazingly delicious treats ensue. This year I started the fire with flint and steel, something I have been attempting for several years now, finally successful

This was a dessert pizza, before being baked

M, tuning one of the most unusual guitars I have ever seen

M and D, singing together

the next morning, young C eats breakfast

slightly out of focus picture of the silk rainbow bunting
that was my gift to J's classroom

the sky on the way back south was full of amazing clouds;
these reminded me of uncarded locks of sheep fleece

on the other side of the overpass, the sun was going down

and all too soon, it was time to head back home...

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