So Long Summer!

Summer in Maine is so sweet and so fleeting. We arrived here on the 14th of June, and there were a few days that still needed a coat, and one I think where I wore a winter hat. But the world had turned sweet and green and there were rhubarb and strawberries in the garden and the days were oh so long. Then so soon it all turned vibrant and sunny and summer exploded. Bricky went to camp at the beach every day and became browned from the sun and swam for hours a day like a seal. Strawberry shortcake tasted like sunshine itself. The peonies and roses unfolded. The garden came up and the wild valerian perfumed the fields. Friends and relatives and parties and festivals followed each other endlessly. Then by the end of July the blueberries ripened low in the grass, the tiger lilies bloomed, the bee balm blossomed and the tomatoes hung heavy and green on the vine. Summer at its apex in a few short weeks. Now it is not even the middle of August and the greens are bolted, there are more fruits than flowers, and the dark comes much more swiftly already. It is such a swift and dramatic turn of year here. It makes the passage of time so visceral. I fear the melancholy, utterly unknown two weeks ago, that always creeps in this season. Must everything be so fleeting? Can there never be ENOUGH time? Must I already face the tasks that won’t be completed, the relationships that won’t be renewed, and the visits and excursions that won’t be taken this year? Sadly, yes. It’s been a good run once again, and I am glad of all of the wonderful things that we have done, and all of the sun and fun that has made its way into our lives in the last couple of months. It’s almost over for this year though.

I have been all about action this summer. The pregnancy nausea finally passed just about the time I hit six months, soon to be replaced by incredible restlessness. I toss and turn at night and my legs and calves cramp up. Hormone surges got me cleaning out the barn, gardening and weeding, organizing our finances, putting together cribs and gathering tiny hand me downs. No painting, no blogging, no reflecting: all preparation. Nesting. Getting ready for the un-readyable. The magic, visceral transformation that is coming our way. I have gotten a lot done. I figured that I should just harness the energy while I could. I don’t know how relevant all of these tasks have been to preparing our lives, my mind, and my heart for the arrival of our little man, but it felt right. Babies really need organized barns, right?

Riding the tide of the summer though has reminded me, and in my labors I have occasionally paused to think, how fast it all goes. The seasons turn so swiftly. The toys and books and papers that I found in the loft were all so relevant to the kids just a few short summers ago, and are now so utterly forgotten. It takes my body less than a year to grow another new human being. A year from now when we return here again he will have teeth, and be able to crawl and to eat food other than breastmilk. The year after that he will be walking and running his way into childhood. I do try and remember these things in my busyness. I do try and pause to feel the beauty and gravity of the fleeting moment. My son and I, although I don’t know him yet, will never be as close again as we are right now, sharing one body. Life moves on, springs forth, disseminates. As the summer in Maine ends for us and we head back to L.A., I feel myself just breathe for a moment and look at where we stand. Despite my somewhat organized barn, there are many things that aren’t exactly the way that I had hoped or pictured them for this time in my life, but I just can’t care about that anymore. This is my life. I’m trying to hold onto the beauty and witness the complexity in every moment these days.

Miss Ohio

(written around June 1st)

I’ve been so remiss in writing lately, it seems that I should have a lot of reflecting about my winter and spring in L.A. to catch up on. My classes and completion of approx 23 oil paintings in 14 weeks, (whew! only 2 of which I actually sort of like though), a couple of film festivals I attended, some events and screenings around town, my participation in an upcoming artshow, a trip back east for my grandmother’s death and perhaps most dynamic of all, my expanding waistline and impending motherhood should all be subjects for consideration. But no. I have nothing to say about these things today, or, at least I don’t want to talk about them except in how they relate to Gillian Welch.

So, I just got back from a Gillian Welch and David Rawlings show at the Henry Miller library in Big Sur. It was a charmed event. One of my very most favorite elements of living in CA is that I am now within driving distance of Big Sur for the occasional long weekend. Big Sur is a place where just about everything seems designed to inspire awe, reverence and joy. It’s just so freaking beautiful EVERYWHERE you look! And all of those mountains and redwoods and clear streams running down to the incredible, tumultuous turquoise surf get you all high on negative ions and the world seems big and gorgeous and full of magic. Lots of amazing, brave, creative people have made their homes there throughout the years, including the writer Henry Miller. He created a little bookshop tucked into the redwoods on route 1, and stocked it with his own books, those of his wives, girlfriends and friends, and then filled it the rest of the way up with books that he happened to like, which mostly fall into the categories of either fine literature or quirky books about adventurous sexual practices. There is also an excellent tradition of parties there that attracted the bohemian sort. Occasionally they still hold events and Gillian Welch and David Rawlings happened to be starting out their new tour in this venue.

Gillian Welch is my modern musical hero. Like all idolization relationships, I actually know pretty much nothing about Gillian Welch as a person, and I realize that. I am not going to pretend that I do, but the important part to me is what she stands for to me, and what I gain from her art. And that is not insignificant. First of all, she has big teeth, fluffy hair that she never styles, and long, skinny arms and a flat chest, just like me. And she is adopted, just like me. And she likes sad, quirky, violent, and nostalgic songs that closely follow American traditional song forms, like me (except that she is a talented and sought after song writer and collaborator..and I am definitely not). And she plays the guitar usually without a pick, and the frailing style banjo. And I am not even going to say just like me on this one, because she is an amazing musician and the most that I can claim for musical prowess is that I amuse myself for an hour or two here and there, but I do play those same instruments in those same styles. Anyway, these similarities that I notice and imagine make me feel a special kinship with her, and I have been an avid fan ever since her first album came out over 10 years ago. I feel the care and consideration in her music, and there is a deep love of American roots musical institutions in her work. Her shows generate an atmosphere of laid back fun and earnest appreciation for tradition. In my opinion, she and David Rawlings are thoughtfully and skillfully helping keep American music customs alive and relevant, and that is so worth doing.

This show was a pretty intimate affair held out under the redwoods on the lawn. They served beer and wine on the patio and people gathered round on blankets and folding chairs on the grass. I was just so excited to see my favorite musician in one of my favorite places. They played for a couple of hours, and as the sun set I sank into a music induced reverie. Without really thinking about it, I suddenly was joined by my past selves of Gillian Welch listening days gone by, and I felt the last decade and its lessons in a brief, fleeting flash of clarity.

Her songs often seem to say what I would if I had the songwriting and musical chops and could. One in particular was the theme to my life in the years leading up to its current era.

“O me o My o, would you look at Miss Ohio.
She’s been a runnin’ around with the rag top
down. She says I wanna do right but not right now.

I know all about it, so you don’t have to shout
it. And I’m gonna straighten it out somehow. Yeah I wanna do right but not right now.”

I felt my twenties during that song, and how I always kind of wanted to get to this point eventually where I wasn’t risking screwing everything up all of the time. There were some moments where I wasn’t totally sure it was going to happen. Usually I was just partying maybe a little bit too hard for the amount of work that I had to do, or maybe I was overestimating my own energy and organization skills and constantly letting life get ahead of me. All the time in my head and heart I wasn’t settled and had this strong searching energy. I wanted to know everything about everything that interested me, go everywhere that I had never been before, meet everyone that seemed interesting to me and try my hand at everything. This often amounted to me not totally finishing much of anything though. But….I finally did grow up I guess. My divorce and illness and entry into life in a family did slow me down, and somewhere along the line here I found a steadiness that I have come to appreciate.

I’m not running around with the ragtop down so much anymore. As I sat there in the audience under the redwoods, listening to this song with my future child wriggling away in my belly I felt this passage of time and the changes in myself.