Trick or Treat!

The ghosts of all things past parade,

Emerging from the mist and shade

That hid them from our gaze,

And, full of song and ringing mirth,

In one glad moment of rebirth,

And again they walk the ways of earth

As in the ancient days.

~

The beacon light shines on the hill,

The will-o'-wisps the forests fill

With flashes filched from noon;

And witches on their broomsticks spry

Speed here and yonder in the sky,

And lift their strident voices high

Unto the Hunter's Moon.

~

The air resounds with tuneful notes

From myriads of straining throats,

All hailing Folly Queen;

So join the swelling choral throng,

Forget your sorrow and your wrong,

In one glad hour of joyous song

To honor Hallowe'en!

-John Kendrick Bangs

Silent Stranger at Dawn

This morning, as the long coppery fingers of the unseen sun were stretching upwards towards the horizon - peeling back night's veil of soft shadowy hues, I quietly made my way up the wide driveway to retrieve the garbage cans which royal sonshine forgot to bring down yesterday. It was beautiful - the dawn - I was grateful for its hushed, peaceful solitude. So, softly shrouded within a fine, low mist, I bear witness to the birth of a new day.

I wasn't alone.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a shadow drop soundlessly, like molasses being slowly poured over the fence of my neighbor and spilling into my yard. As I turned, a large coyote stood staring at me through pale eyes of gold. Turning away, he moved in utter and complete silence -- gliding easily, with such power and fluidity, over the tall gate into my backyard. Not a single sound was unleashed -- not from him nor from the world around him. I stood, unable to move. Not so much out of fear, but more that I was completely mesmerized by this hauntingly beautiful being. Mere moments later, the lithe creature slid back over the gate -- cloaked within the same silence, and like some sort of apparition, moved without a sound along the Oleanders and loped slowly towards the street - looking over his shoulder at me before disappearing into what was left of the darkness.

I quickly made my way back into my house, and found both my dogs still sleeping - they hadn't sensed a thing - it's as if the coyote was never really there at all. If my feet weren't wet from dew, I'd think that I had dreamed it.

I feel strangely honored to have seen something so wild, so unexpected, especially in such a crowded and tame residential area. So, thank you, coyote - may your path steer clear of anyone wishing you harm.

Good morning, world.

Home is where the heart is.

It's been a tough time. Last week, while I struggled to turn chaos and ruin into some semblance of a warm and inviting homestead - (despite royal sonshine's teenage wasteland rearing its ugly head) - unbeknownst to me, 3000 miles away, my mother struggled against her body, against age, against a heart that all of a sudden was now failing her. I can literally feel my heart breaking. I'm so exhausted. My world feels so very fragile.

Today, things in the East seem to be on a tense standby - a vast improvement of the earlier code blues and moments where time stood completely still for what seemed like years. The fragile tide has turned and we all have, what looks like, a stronger foothold from the shifting sand of the weekend. My mother's color has returned to her beautiful olive skin and there is life back in her soft blue eyes, albeit slightly veiled in a fear that has never been there before. She is out of the hospital, away from IVs, machines that beep and buzz, the sound of nurse's rubber soles softly padding down the sleek, cold hallways and once again in the comfort and beauty of her own home, and perhaps, really out of the woods. Thankfully she is surrounded by her many sisters and her sons, my brothers -- all whom live very close to her and have fewer ties that bind elsewhere, so to speak, than I do.

So, after surgeries, the implants of several stints, and many silent prayers, my mother's fragile health has turned down the dark invitation to dance with death and seems to be on a sure course back to the living. I leave that all that behind and travel back over time zones, safe zones, putting the miles and distance back between us.

Cautiously, I exhale. I keep finding myself so lightheaded and realize that I'm holding my breath. Again.

Away from the tension, ever-present criticism and all-present perfection of my world to the East (there are oh so many reasons that I live 3000 miles away, but I digress), I have landed firmly back in the West and take refuge as my knees give out and I sink safely into the warm, comfortable love that exudes from my husband, my son, and my ever-faithful, ever-happy bundles of love that parade through life as dogs - and I'd like to include "the familiar", but unfortunately there isn't much "familiar" at the moment, due to the state of my house. My project.

I feel for the first time that I may have bitten off more than I can chew, but I am thinking that's the exhaustion and stress of the week speaking to me. All of this is catapulting me into a different frame of mind and focus. I'm now desperate to have my home finished and put together. I need that. There is too much chaos and uncertainty around me -- I need a soft place to land, and that, at the moment, needs to be my home.

Off I go to try and make that happen.

Yellow, Yellow, Lovely Yellow...

I'm still lamenting over yellow exteriors. (And the fact that I lost the vote on the exterior color choice of our new villa ala beach shack) Poor tired husband says it's not actually the color that I'm pining away for, but rather the whole package it represents for me - the century old house near the sea with roses, rosemary and olive trees ... it is my dream house, truly. I dream of it, speak of it at any opportunity, and try in my own way to create it where I happen to be. My heart and soul long for it.


Bramasole - the villa featured in the movie, "Under the Tuscan Sun"

Have you ever seen "Under the Tuscan Sun?" Terrible movie, but the house (the entire location, really) is absolutely to die for. I would do anything to have it. It is the kind of house that lives in my heart. I bought that movie, and I have watched it a hundred times - with the sound off - just for the scenery.



I also have Captain Corelli's Mandolin and watch it for the scenery, too! I know in my heart of hearts that before this life is over I'm going to have to move to Italy or one of the small Greek Islands and have my dream villa by the sea. Then, and only then will I be a completely happy muse.

Dinner under the grapevine above the sea.... Mmmm! My kind of wonderful.

Ok, so back to the here and the now - Poor Tired Husband and Royal Sonshine still want Green with crisp white trim. It was a fair vote - 2 to 1, and we drove around for hours and narrowed our choices to a handful of house colors we saw (see the winners one of my posts a few days ago), but I'm not going to be happy. Eventhough we've already voted, (and I lost!) Maybe I can at least do a technique with two shades of green on the stucco of the main house and tone the trim down to a more creamy shade... perhaps sand it back a little... put a little stamp of 'old' charm on it, and still have them happy (because their happiness is important and peace is paramount in the land of Isa!) Will they compromise? We'll see, we'll see. But for now... more scraping!

Poor tired husband - "no more scraping today. No more, I say!"