channeling 8

Channeling 8 by Karly Siroky

Today it was 107 degrees outside. Inside, it was a cool, crisp 77. That’s Southern Oregon in mid-August. 

Lately I’ve been focused on being productive, on bringing in new clients, on moving product. Traveling home from meetings in Seattle, I made a list of thirteen things I could do to improve my business and my finances: set up monthly tax payments, select a new health plan, decide which cloud storage platform would be most cost-effective. 

Since when did I become such an adult? 

Often times in an effort to lull myself to sleep, I’ll indulge in a good old fashioned YouTube binge. Last night it was dance videos by Adam Sevani (think, teenage heart throb from Step Up 2, 3, etc.), including a dance battle between him and Miley Cyrus. These are not my proudest moments. 

The night before, I had a dance party in my driveway. The radio was playing my jams, and instead of getting dolled up and going out on the town (it was Wednesday, and this is Ashland, where you’re more likely to find a Bunko Club than a night club), I decided to just dance, right there, with only the barn cat as my witness. She eyed me curiously. 

Photo by Karly Siroky

Photo by Karly Siroky

I was searching for something, but couldn’t quite put a finger on it. 

With the weekend fast approaching, I realized that for once in my life I had no plans. Typically, when faced with 48 hours of empty calendar, my Type A brain goes into overdrive, and I immediately conjure up a tall stack of check boxes. 

This weekend, however, with temps in the triple digits, I simply wasn’t in the mood. If there were one box I hoped to cross off, it was simply: SURVIVE. 

I called Grandma. We packed the cooler with Dutch cheese and a six-pack of Limonata, and headed for the neighbors’ pool. A friend and his daughter were already there, along with her two giant, inflatable companions: Sea Turtle and Stingray. 

“C’mon!” she shouted, “Join the party!” I worried about messing up my hair, about my very non-waterproof mascara running down my face. 

Who was I trying to impress? I chose Stingray. 

We laughed and splashed ourselves silly. I asked how old she was. “Eight!” she smiled. “Well, I’m twenty-eight,” I replied, cocking an eyebrow. “If you didn’t have the 2,” she said, “then you’d also be 8!” 

I lay on the grass, studying the micro communities of insects, imagining that the cast from Honey I Shrunk the Kids was still lost down there somewhere. I watched the vapor trail of an airplane silently spread its way across the cobalt blue sky. I didn’t bother worrying about my makeup, nor any missed messages that might be waiting on my iPhone, which I’d purposely left at home. 

Finally, I realized what it was I’d been missing: PLAY. 

Karly Siroky serves as Lucia's design advisor. A brand strategist and visual designer, she is based out of her '88 motorhome (Big Betty) and migrates with the seasons. She spent the summer traveling the American West, working via Wi-Fi booster from national parks, sweltering deserts, and inspiring mountain heights in California, Nevada, Arizona, Colorado and Utah. Read about her travel adventures at her blog, C'est la RV, and see her work and connect with her at

only what is ripe

August 4, 2016 - Daily Notes, From the Editor

August always arrives with a chest-twinge. Summer is waning and the urge is strong to grab everything I can. I want to do all of the things before it ends.

What is this urge? I feel it in my work to grow Lucia. It feel it in my love relationship, too. I want to have all of the answers and make all of the memories, preferably before September. 

"What do you need right now?," he asked. It was late Friday night and we were stealing a found hour together at the end of a work week, the way real couples do. A candle glowed between us and our necks were tilted back to gaze at the small handful of stars visible through Seattle's city lights.

"Two days away from town," I replied. "With you, in nature. I want to sleep under cedars and stars." 

He arrived Sunday morning with a broad smile and a Subaru filled with gear, food, air mattresses and music. This relationship is still tender, unfinished, uncertain, unknown. It is also adventurous, comedic, patient and brave.

Marrowstone Island is off the beaten path. We rolled in without a reservation, like outlaws, asking every ranger we met to help settle our wager over whether a particular variety of tree is named "madrone" or "madrona."

A high-cliff campsite was available and from it we could see the sea. Fresh saltwater air and the cluster of old growth cedars around the fire pit sealed the deal. Our tent went up beneath a massive "madrone" (ahem) and I exhaled completely. 

The next day I point-shouted out the window as we drove the long country road, "Blackberries!" He braked, threw it in reverse, and parked in the hot sun. We barely said another word and climbed out of the car. I went left, he went right. We got straight to work.

Some of the fruit was deep black and bursting, but most of the berries within reach were not quite ripe. You know the kind, mostly black but with one or two small spots of red. Still firm to the touch, they needed more time in the sun. In my eagerness to grab everything this summer has to offer before it ends, I picked all of them. Completely, with abandon. 

We met back at the car, my gray hat filled with sweet and sour berries. I looked into his strong, patient palms and saw he had only picked the fattest, softest, ripest ones. He shared them all with me.

The next day, my sister texted some photos of my two-year-old niece directing the blackberry-picking behind their house. "Da bwack ones!" she exclaims, pointing them out for her mother to reach. As in, "Don't pick the ones that aren't ripe yet, Mama."

Leave them be. It is August. Savor what is sweet. Let the rest stay on the vine. 


Laura Lowery is the founder, editor and publisher of Lucia. She does her best to lead a creative life. Whether triumphant or stumbling, Laura shares daily notes (that are often weekly) here on luciajournal, including stories, behind-the-scenes happenings, little doses of inspiration, and large quantities of curiosity and heart. She is pleased to meet you.