chocolate hamstrings

chocolate hamstrings

Mercury leaves retrograde today. Hal-le-LUUUU-jah! The past few weeks were like a cat in the doorway. (Coming in. No, going out. No, just staying here for now. Wait, but I think I want to go out.) Electronic communication went haywire. Texts disappeared into the aether. Phone calls were not received. Three people I know had computers crash and bought new machines. There is more...

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.