i want to write pages and pages about my time in port townsend, about teaching, about walking the beach. somehow, i think i'll distract you with words, and what i'd really like to share with you, then, to show you, is the light. it seemed to shine and radiate through everything, even on the days when clouds rolled in and a fine mist fell. there was this light, and it mesmerized me, held me with its captivation.
even my classroom, tucked quietly upstairs into the back of an ancient schoolhouse building, had its own special glow; three sides of windows looked out into the trees, and one side into the rest of a beautiful old place with other windows looking back to us. the trees were green, so green - so much farther along into the unfolding of spring than we are back here at home. i got to stand at my table while teaching and look out into all of this delicious green, a very pleasant thing. it felt a little like looking into arms of trees that were wrapping themselves around me.
but truly, what struck me most of all when looking back at the photos i took were the beautiful, beaming faces of treasured friends, of students, of people i met for the very first time: they were all so full of radiant light. i can't properly explain this; you'll just have to look and see for yourself. walking on the beach, i happen to meet a poet and her horse, riding into the magical last hour of sunlight on the beach. and in the classroom, out in the halls, the beautiful comforting faces of students and friends old and new... looking into the camera at you, at me, looking into the heart of the matter with grace and with confidence and love. so very beautiful.
you can see what i mean about the light in their faces, in the way that they hold their heads high, through the day and into the night - queens, all. and they love me as only true friends do. it is with grace and with truth that these women walk the earth, stepping with beauty into everything that they do. it is an honor to stand, to sit, to laugh and cry with all of them, throughout the years, and beginning anew. when looking at these photographs, now that i am wrapped again in the mountains and streams and trees of home, i recall the way that these women all made me feel: loved, treasured, warm. the way that we all feel when spending moments - short and long - with treasured, loyal friends. i am so thankful for these moments - minutes, hours, some of them so fleeting - i am thankful for all of them.
i want to show you the way that the light showed itself in everything. i was there one moment, that last early wet morning, walking in solitude along a deserted beach;
the light gathered as i stood there, thinking of all i had done and seen; the light was shining on me, through me...
the light, the wind, the water on rocks - it was all in me, around me. it was everything. the light, yes the light: it was everything.
i was there in the late afternoon, across the water, laughing with my beloved college friend bonnie, talking of life, and children, and love and art, talking of everything. and now, i am so happy to be back here, absorbing the light, embracing each and every thing. i am home again; i am home. i have come home to this mountain light again, where i am part of the streams and the river, the mountains and the trees. and home is where i want to be, more than anything. xo ps. i would be horribly remiss if i did not mention how much my beloved friend julie was there for me, as always... being dropped back OFF at the airport in seattle so i wouldn't have to ride out to port townsend alone, walking with me on the beach, helping tremendously with vendor night, helping tremendously with everything in general, bringing me chai latte with soy every single morning i taught, carting luggage, sitting on the sweet little back deck at my cottage with me in the late afternoon as i finished a final piece of jewelry, going to dinner, going to registration, going, going, going. remember, this is my friend who drove down - twice - from ohio to pick walter up and carry him back to their house for two separate weeks while i was away. julie, i love you, dear friend; it would not have been nearly as pleasant, had it not been for you. xo