the space betwixt & between…

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As I age, it seems much of life is experienced within the gray areas of uncertainty. Thankfully, now at fifty-three, I’m finding not knowing is sort of interesting, perhaps even a bit wonderfully mysterious.

study in grays, June 18th, 2020

my corona life part II…

Living—April

  1. New neighborhood signs appeared
  2. Easter Sunday—showered, dressed up, food, champagne, and gin rummy
  3. Picking the banjo, walking with Jeff, trivia with friends, a porch visit with Ellis
  4. Walking with friends, Lillian’s Zoom birthday party, making bagels, oh,the greys…& the blues too

Arriving—April

My great-nephew arrived in South Dakota. Welcome to the world buddy.

Creating—April

Unearthing—April

north country girls…

Please see for me that her hair is hanging long
For that’s the way I remember her the best.
—Bob Dylan

And when you go, and the snow flakes fall
The rivers freeze, and summer ends
Please see for me, that she’s wearing a coat so warm
Keep her from… that howling wind. —Bob Dylan

Burt, Bobby, Laurie & I…

I have a treasure trove of vintage polaroids I bought at the Sandwich, Massachusetts Flea Market a few years ago for twenty bucks. I found them yesterday in my studio and had an idea.

Do I look a little bored, mad or just caught off guard? Burt does seem to be scanning the room and not being terribly attentive to me. Who knows what sort of crap he pulled before they started snapping photos of us? Maybe my expression was entirely appropriate.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a photo of Elliot Gould. He was entirely swoonworthy to me as a 12-year-old watching M.A.S.H. with my Dad. I just had to make it work with the Burt Reynolds. 😃

Maybe our date was arranged by the studio? Oh, Hollywood…

My big sister, Laurie, on the other hand, truly adored Bobby Sherman. She looks quite thrilled with her 1971 Golden Globes date. Mr. Sherman appears to be relaxed, attentive and at ease.

I’m pretty sure, Laurie would’ve been equally thrilled to be photoshopped with Donny Osmond, or David Cassidy from The Partridge Family. It just wasn’t in the polaroids.

Here’s to childhood crushes.

Who were yours?

PLEASE NOTE: Richard Dreyfuss, Kris Kristofferson or Gabe Kaplan were my other childhood crushes. Unfortunately there weren’t any photos of them in the lot I purchased.

Dear Summer 2019,

Thank you for all of the lovely memories.

I learned a lot about myself over the last three months,

it wasn’t easy, but truly necessary.

With Loving Gratitude,

Lisa

PS The autumnal equinox arrived in the early morning hours of Sept. 23 (at 3:50 a.m. Eastern), the halfway point between our longest and shortest days of the year. It’s funny how my “middleness” shows up in nearly every aspect of my life.

Well hello autumn, you know you’ve always been my favorite… shhhhhhh don’t tell summer.


Ain’t it funny how the night moves
When you just don’t seem to have as much to lose
Strange how the night moves
With autumn closing in

—Bob Seger, Night Moves

No wonder I love this time of year, I’m constantly reminded of my “middleness” in nearly every aspect of my life.

are we frayed beyond repair?

“Once the fabric of a just society is undone, it takes generations to weave it back together.” —Deepak Chopra

feeling nostalgic as the tide shifts…

As my girls head back to their second year of college, the memories of my family’s past summers are making me exceptionally nostalgic this year. Last week I walked Cape Cod’s, Town Neck Beach in Sandwich before heading north to Vermont.

So much flooded back to me…oh, the remarkable nostalgia of middle age.

While admiring the rocks, I got an idea for a photo series and a way I could honor this time of transition.

My memories feel both permanent and somewhat elusive, they can come and go as the tide shifts…just like these rocks do every six hours.

New England Patriot’s recently retired tight end, Rob Gronkowski once remarked, “I just like the beaches in summer, man.”

I wholeheartedly agree, Gronk.

after the storm…

Last night we had a wild storm—tornado warnings, wind, heaving rain, lightning and thunder. I’ve always loved storms. After it passed, the neighborhood was eerily quiet. My daughter, Willa and I stayed up until things settled down.

I get up really early, always have. I don’t like to get up in the 4s…however, anything after 5:00 works for me. I fed our cat, Karen, headed out to get a coffee at Dunkin’ & listen to my book, City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert—sooooo good, and survey the storm damage. We only had leaves covering our deck and a few small branches here and there, nothing major to report.

I ended up at the bottom of the hill at Town Neck Beach. I was the only one in the parking lot at 5:25am…rare actually. Another car pulled up, a man got out and walked onto the beach in the rain. There was just something about him that I found quite intriquing. He didn’t seem sad, but clearly he was in a thoughtful mood. A fisherman wondering about his day perhaps? A visitor seeing his long-planned day at the beach with his young kids thwarted? Or perhaps just a guy on his way to work who likes storms as much as I do.

He took pictures of the stone sculpture that somehow survived the storm. I can’t imagine that someone built it in the dark between 11pm and 5am. It’s design is structurally mighty impressive. Damn.

I waited for him to get into his car, then I got out to get a shot of the sculpture as well. Walking the beach I found myself looking out at the exact spot a friend’s ashes were scattered a few years ago in one of the most sorrowful and stunning moments I’ve ever witnessed in my 52.8 years.

The beach reflected the generous spirit and remarkably unique inner wildness of her this morning. I know she would’ve loved the images in this post and be grateful that I didn’t mention her by name. That was simply not her style.

fluid memories. girlhood…