In thanks of...
* cherry pie made with fresh, local-as-they-get cherries
* spunky kids in the garden
* wildly fabulous music: The Amelia Earharts
* a bike ride with Liz to Fresh Pond
* canoing the Charles River with Reid
* friends who sing (while walking down the street)
* all sorts of goodness in the mailbox

Here are some scenes from this Wednesday at Singing Beach, in Manchester By the Sea, with lovely Reid, Regan and Tim. There was swimming in the cold cold ocean, traipsing about (and singing and poetry reciting) on cliffs, some good frisbee, and the regular eating, reading and lounging... (Thanks, Regan, for the photos!)

Tim and Regan :o)

Reid, Amy and Tim

(from Reid)

Keeping Quiet, by Pablo Neruda

And now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth
let's not speak in any language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victory with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about,
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatenting ourselves with death.

Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I'll count up to twelve,
and you keep quiet and I will go.

This summer I'm excited to help out in the studio of my friend Deb Putnoi, who's a pretty amazing woman and artist. I got to know her this year at the Fogg museum, where she taught Sketching Afterschool. She's also a graduate of the Arts in Education program at HGSE. Here's a sample of her work:

Also-- Yesterday I spent the afternoon picking mulberries from the tree in our front yard, and then attempted to make mulberry preserves! I ended up with mulberry syrup - delightful on ice cream, I'm sure - and my own version of fruit leather (that's what's in that pot, below, congealing...). Then Mom sent a picture of her berry work for the day: cherry pie from the tree in Beth's yard. Beautiful.

Carissa, Ashley, Liz and me (the Hootin Annies)

me and Liz, learning Red Red Rose

Jaime and Clare

my piano lesson from Eva

(thanks, Winnie and Clare, for the beautiful pictures!)

This is a re-post. I'm not ready for it to disappear from the page, partly because so many people have said that reading about Blake has truly inspired them. So I'm keeping it up for a while longer, and will continue to post new things, too. Love.

(Oh, Blake.) This is going to be very inadequate.

Blake was lovely. He was terribly good at living, at paying attention to and taking care of people. He had no trouble being in the moment, wasn't in a hurry, took the time to get to know all kinds of people (including the strange and scary ones) and made them feel loved and as if they'd been truly seen. He was an encourager, he was social glue, he could work hard but truly excelled at resting. He was incredibly smart. He could be goofy and witty, sometimes cynical. Blake knew how to pack for an adventure. He was a poet, a genuine person and musician who wrote, played and sang with heart and talent. He wrote the funniest, most fabulous rambling letters but didn't waste words. He loved wilderness and our summertime garden, loved learning (about clouds, soybeans, organic gardening and composting, politics, music theory, etc.), loved his black lab Cayuse. Blake loved his family and friends so much, and said so.

People affect the world in different ways, leave behind trails of actions and words, sometimes music. That I know better now how to love, how to laugh and how to sing, I owe to Blake Reese. That I am more accepting of differences, more dedicated to the earth and to helping people take care of it, more open to adventure and to taking it easy, I owe to him too. Blake brought music into people's lives; to mentor so many musicians, support their original playing and writing, is huge, right? It is an enormous and lasting gift, one he gave generously and without ceremony.

The world and the way we see it has been changed for the better because of Blake's presence in our lives. I am forever grateful.

thankful for today:
1. lovely Clare and Liz, my "time creating" friends
2. banana bread
3. a new paint brush and some gold paint
4. a massage tomorrow night
5. getting to see people in KY this August (heading your way 8/1!)
6. a scheduled art swap with Elise
7. a piano/ladybug lesson from cutie (and naked other than her party shoes!) little Eva
8. basil plants on the fire escape

something to chew on:

"For more than fifteen years, James and I had been vegetarians. The statement came with typical caveats--we ate some wild fish, and had eaten meat while on the road in certain difficult countries. For the most part we were consistent: no meat, no eggs, no dairy. The decision was not rooted in any unusual sqeamishness about killing animals. What we chose to reject was our species' capacity to disregard life. The cruelties are by now familiar enough: cutting off pigs' tails so they don't chew them in their depression and madness at confinement; breeding chickens with so much meatiness their legs can't support their bodies; fattening cows with industrial feed that can contain chicken and pork by-products, and even beef fat. ... We are equally troubled by the fact that meat production monopolizes the world's scarce agricultural land. It takes fourteen pounds of corn for a cow to gain one pound of edible meat..."

(excerpt from Plenty, by Smith and MacKinnon; photo of meal from last summer's delicious AK attempt at local and wild eating: lettuce, broccoli and cauliflower from the garden, fresh salmon caught by friends)

Sarah wanted to see a moose on her trip to Montreal, but didn't. She requested a berry "mousse" for her birthday dessert, instead! So today I got to make strawberry white chocolate mousse. It wasn't that hard, and it was definitely a hit at the party tonight.

processing in

JK Rowling with tubas marching by

Widener library, festooned!

Yesterday, I graduated... Wow. All the speakers were inspiring, and the ceremony was magical! Will post pictures soon. Til then, here's a link to J.K. Rowling's commencement address, which I loved. And here's some NPR (and student) commentary.

Tercentary Theater

(Harvard Yard with 32,000 people and a big stage)

I've been thinking about the moments that mark my life, the ones by which I 'take stock', that stick and that mean the most. This is important because I don't have a great memory-- which, when I am trying to think back on things, is tremendously sad. But I realized recently that the moments that do stick with me are just that: moments. They're often simple, seemingly insignificant but incredibly vivid and visceral events like singing with Anna in the stairwell, lounging with close friends on the beach, watching a waterfall or dancing with Blake, eating warm biscuits with my family, singing with Bridgett and Frank on their back patio before I left for Alaska.

To be in these moments completely, to recognize and live in them as often as possible, is something I want to do well.