The Ship

The second in a series of posts chronicling my Caribbean sojourn in March, 2009

No, silly, not that HUGE white thing, but off to the left, that one! The one with the three masts. YES! That one! That's the Caledonia, my home for two blissful weeks. She's not very big (compared to a big cruise ship), but big enough to house more fun than I thought possible.

The SV Caledonia is the best ship on which I have ever traveled. From the Captain and the crew, the accommodations, the daily special afternoon cocktail and the food, the itinerary, and the sheer joy of a sailing ship beating downwind with you aboard, the wind singing in the rigging, it was a non-stop perfect trip from start to finish. There were great shore excursions. On board you had the opportunity to learn a bit about sailing from the boson, there were talks about islands we would be visiting, we enjoyed several musical nights (reggae and ska)and for the bold, you were allowed to climb up into the rigging as far as your nerve would let you.

Nonie and I both climbed up to the first yardarm, but being short, we were sort of stymied at that point as old knees and legs don't like to make the convolutions required to climb higher. It was much easier to climb out into the nets on either side of the bow sprint. What an amazing way to travel-----the waves breaking at the bow, the wind, the view! We were even blessed with dolphins riding out bow wake while we were in the nets. Magical!

Nonie, my traveling buddy.

Everything was ship shape, clean and comfortable. I spent countless hours just sitting on deck, watching the deck crew, looking for flying fish, watching the clouds and the moods of the Caribbean. Although our cabin had a DVD player and there were many DVDs in the library from which to choose, we never even thought of watching something. There was simply too much to do just being aboard the Caledonia.

If you get the chance, be sure to sail a week or more aboard the Caledonia. You won't be sorry!

The Many Moods of the Caribbean

Finally.

I know, I know, it's taken forever for me to get any of my photos from the Caribbean cruise I took in March posted to this blog.....

It took me a looooooooong while to edit all my 1500+ photographs. I have culled and tweaked and cropped and now they are ready to share. I hate photo editing. It's boring. It takes forever----but it makes such a difference in the final product that it is worth the effort and time required. Even so, I hate it. BORRRRRRRRRiiinnnnnngggggggg......

The above photos are of what is known in my family as God Light. I love the way the beams of sunlight stream down through the clouds. It's dramatic. Very diva-ish. "I'm ready for my close up, Mr. de Mille."
Then we have the sunset section. The Caribbean does offer up some truly spectacular sunsets. I found the the deck of a three masted sailing ship was the perfect place to appreciate the varied sunsets in all their glory. I even saw the green flash three times in two weeks! That's my personal best. Three times!

And then, the lovely nights when the moon was visible. Most nights the moon shone brightly on the Caribbean waters. It was heaven to see stars and the moon and clear skies after months of the Pacific Northwest gloom and gray and wet.

I will be posting many more photos in the coming days. I'm going to try and put them into groups so it will make some sort of sense without having to drag you, Dear Reader, through a day by day tour. I hope this is more interesting. That is my intention, but should this seem unorganized and confusing, do let me know and I'll try sharing my photos and memories with you in another way.

LK's New Book

I opened my front door this morning and discovered a wonderful surprise----a box from Amazon.com. Inside was my copy of LK Ludwig's new book. For any of you Dear Readers who love art journaling and/of collaborative projects, this is a must have. It is truly a beautiful book, a feast for the eyes. All of the different collaborative projects featured are inspiring and fascinating to study and the photographs are excellent.

And, yes, I am included in the book! (As my daughter Annie would say, "Drum roll, please!") Above is an example of the sorts of things my Photojournal group does. My work is the top right and bottom left of the above photo. That particular little book from the Photojournal group was entitled Shades of Black.

LK even included a quote of mine---of which I have no memory!

I am so pleased to have been included in this beautiful book. I hope LK sells a million copies!

May Morning

I spent a lovely long weekend at the cabin. I haven't been there in weeks and weeks and weeks and I have been missing my little house in the woods.


I had a pleasant surprise driving in----the wash out in the gully has been repaired. Seven of the lot owners down at my end of the road banded together and hired a contractor to fix our mess at the bottom of By Golly Gully. (The Road Association continues to try to get FEMA funding to do our food-caused road woes, but the wheels of bureaucracy grind slooooooooooooooly and who knows when any money might be seen? In the meantime the gully wash out was getting worse and worse with each rain and something had to be done. I was pleasantly surprised at the bid. I hope that the bid amount is the final figure, but you never know until the bill is in hand!)

The upsetting part of the weekend was discovering my beloved Aga cooker is not working. It is always such a shock to arrive and discover that the Aga is stone cold. It's not supposed to be cold! It's supposed to be warm and ready to boil a kettle of water for tea or to pot something into the roasting oven for dinner with no need to preheat. A stone cold Aga is a sad, sad thing. I have arranged for the Aga doctor to come fix it, again, but it won't be until mid-month. Poor little house will have to muddle along without its warm heart until then. (the photo below shows my little Aga last July 4th, helpfully drying out the flags and bunting that got drenched in our traditional Independence Day Downpour!)

In the meantime, I soothed my eyes (and nose) with the lilacs that are just opening into glorious, joyous flower.

Don't you just love lilac time?

My Favorite Old Book Shop

In my on-going effort to divert those of you Dear Readers who are waiting for the Caribbean Chronicles, I offer this little note on my favorite old book store. It's in (where else?) Port Townsend, Washington and is located on Washington Street at No. 821. This is, for me, the perfect sort of book shop. It has twisty-turny aisles, bookcases loaded with all sorts of esoteric tomes on various subjects, beautifully bound old books, maps, chairs set here and there so you can plop down and give the wonder you just discovered your full -has-been-loved-and-read-and-reread-and-stored-carefully-for-years-and-years-smell. It's a cozy space and you want to stay for hours and look in each drawer and scan each shelf for the treasures that are waiting you. Kathy Graham, the proprietor, really knows how to put together a book shop!

Besides the books, Kathy always has a selection of finds....old folding frame spectacles that I purchased from her several years ago, various items decorated with shells, an old crate that Japanese tea was shipped in.....all of these things now reside at my house.

So, Dear Reader, the next time you find yourself in Port Townsend, maybe after a lovely lunch of noodles, you might want to spend a happy afternoon in Insatiables. It won't be time wasted.

Early Spring Sunday

We are the Stars



For we are the stars. For we sing.

For we sing with our light.

For we are birds made of fire.

For we spread our wings over the sky.

Our light is a voice.

We cut a road for the soul

for its journey through death.

For we face the hills with disdain.

This is the song of the stars.

Excerpts from a Passamaquoddy poem, which I found in Jan Garbarek's Rites CD

Umami

Umami, according to Wikipedia, is "one of the five basic tastes sensed by specialized receptor cells present on the human tongue. Umami is a loanword from Japanese meaning roughly "tasty", although "brothy", "meaty", or "savory" have been proposed as alternate translations."

Hanazono Asian Noodle House is the home of umami in the Pacific Northwest, in my humble opinion. You can find them in Port Townsend, Washington, at 225 Taylor Street, just off the main drag, Water Street, a few doors east of The Rose Theatre. Run, don't walk, to dine there. And I do mean dine. Nonie and I ate at Hanazono several times when we stayed in PT in early January. We dined there again several times during ArtFest, thrice for dinner and once for lunch. You can not go wrong with anything on their menu. I have loved every single thing I have tried.

This is all that's left of yaki nobu udon, perhaps my favorite item on the menu. It certainly would rank in the top three items... I must admit that udon are my favorite noodles of all time, and Hanazono does them to perfection.

But it's not only the food that make Hanazono so special a discovery, it is the whole atmosphere of the place. Long and narrow, with simple dark stained tables and chairs, the restaurant reminds me of places I ate in Japan. It's simple and homey and cozy and goooooood. The dishes used for plating set off the food and the ingredients to their advantage. Sometimes a very small detail can made a very big impression and the individual teapots stick out in my mind. They do not drip. They keep the tea hot. They are beautiful in a quiet wabi sabi sort of way. Very Zen.

P.S. For those Dear Readers who are anticipating photos from my recent holiday in the Caribbean I ask for patience. I have not been home more than a few days since returning from Antigua at the end of March. First my dear friend Bee came to stay, then we went to ArtFest, and now I am in Southern California with my daughter and her family. Photos and commentary will appear here as soon as I can slog my way through almost 2000 photos. You will not be asked to view them all......

A Visit to Fred Mullett's Studio

My dear friend Bee Shay and I were privileged to be invited to visit Fred Mullett's studio. Bee and Fred are both members of the Nature Printing Society. All of Fred's amazing rubber stamp designs are taken from prints he has made, which makes his product not only beautiful, but unique. (I used his shrimp, small octapus and seaweed stamps on my ArtFest ATC for the 2009 ATC Fatbook, hosted by none other than Bee.) Fred let us play with his big box of paper. He uses inks with resists of various sorts to create some amazingly beautiful paper and we tried out hand at creating our own paper using his techniues. Once we had something we liked, we cut out a section and adhered it to a card blank---which I can't find to show you! Trust me, it was fun and it was very, very effective.

Fred is one of those most special people who are not only intelligent but hilariously funny. He knows movies, books, music and art and shares what he knows in a gentle way. I learned a lot from my day at his studio and I had a great time, too.

Lunch in Bell Town at The Noodle Palace wasn't bad, either!

Fred's studio is located in the SoDo district of Seattle on the third floor of an old building. It's a very cool old building, full of uirky spaces, worn painted floorboards that are beautiful in a wabi sabi sort of way and a freight elevator that's perfectly ancient for the space. The building has settled unevenly so the floors are canted. The floorboards creak when you walk on them. The stairway has risers that are not all the same height. I could have spent the day just photographing that wonderful old place! Thanks for the play date, Fred! I hope I can visit you again.

I'm Caribe Bound!

I'm bound for Tortola today. I'll be away, sailing aboard the Caledonia until the 24th and I'll be unable to update you on my travels until after I return home (kicking and screaming, no doubt). And so, Dear Reader, I wish you clear skies and calm seas.

Hate me if you must---my family does!

Photo is property of Canadian Sailing Expeditions.

Lovely visit with Gwen

My friend Gwen came to visit today. I am sad to admit it, but we live, maybe, twenty minutes away from each other and this is the first time we have gotten together outside of ArtFest or the like. It was such a pleasure to spend some time with her. Gwen brought along several of her art journals to share and I am so impressed! She attended PLAY, an art journaling retreat that is put on by Teesha and Tracy Moore (who bring us ArtFest each year, bless their hearts!). Gwen did amazing work and I love her journal featuring hands. I have a bad case of journal envy! I'm going to have to seriously consider attending PLAY in 2010.

Be sure to check out Gwen's blog, HealingBalancePassion for more information on PLAY and some photos of her beautiful work.

Below are a few photos of my journal in progress.I have been working on my travel journal for my up-coming cruise. (Yes, I know. Poor me! NOT!) I leave on Thursday and will be gone most of the month.) I've been trying to get some pages painted with some sort of background color and I had notes on several of the islands in the Caribbean that I'll be visiting that I wanted to enter into the journal. I had a lot of fun working on two two-page spreads this last weekend. Now I have to figure out exactly what art supplies I'll be hauling on the cruise with me. Watercolors, permanent black pens, a couple of rubber stamps, some ephemera I've been amassing for the journal.....but what else? Should I take the few pieces of beach-y/boat-y scrapbook embellishments that I found floating around in the art closet? I could use 'em up that way.... do I have room for anything more?

March 1st

Ye Gods, where does the time go? How can it be the first of March already? It was just Christmas last week! When I logged into my email account this morning and saw "March 1," I was truly appalled. The silver lining part was that it reminded me of a poem by Billy Collins and I have now reread his wonderful collection Sailing Alone Around the Room.

Have you read much Billy Collins, Dear Reader?

Here's the poem that my early morning discovery of time flying brought to mind:

Nostalgia

Remember the 1340s? We were doing a dance called
the Catapult.
You always wore brown, the color craze of the decade,
and I was draped in one of those capes that were popular,
the ones with unicorns and pomegranates in needlework.
Everyone would pause for beer and onions in the afternoon,
and at night we would play a game called "Find the Cow."
Everything was hand-lettered then, not like today.

Where has the summer of 1572 gone? Brocade and sonnet
marathons were all the rage. We used to dress up in the flags
of rival baronies and conquer one another in cold rooms
of stone.
Out on the dance floor we were all doing the Struggle
while your sister practiced the Daphne all alone in her room.
We borrowed the jargon of farriers for our slang.
These days language seems transparent, a badly broken code.

The 1790s will never come again. Childhood was big.
People would take walks to the very tops of hills
and write down wheat they saw in their journals without
speaking.
Our collars were high and our hats were extremely soft.
We could surprise each other with alphabets made of twigs.
It was a wonderful time to be alive, or even dead.

I am very fond of the period between 1815 and 1821.
Europe trembled while we sat still for our portraits.
And I would love to return to 1901 if only for a moment,
time enough to wind up a music box and do a
few dance steps,
or shoot me back to 1922 or 1941, or at least let me
recapture the serenity of last month when we picked
berries and glided through afternoons in a canoe.

Even this morning would be an improvement over
the present.
I was in the garden then, surrounded by the hum of bees
and the Latin names of flowers, watching the early light
flash off the slanted windows of the greenhouse
and silver the limbs on the rows of dark hemlocks.

As usual, I was thinking about the moments of the past,
letting my memory rush over them like water
rushing over the stones on the bottom of a stream.
I was even thinking a little about the future, that place
where people are doing a dance we cannot imagine,
a dance whose name we can only guess.

--Billy Collins