A month in photographs.

The days are fleeting and once again I have abandoned my little space here. The days are drizzly and grey with bouts of scattered sunshine, giving hope to Pacific Northwesterners that spring is just around the corner. The daffodils have begun to bloom, their cheery yellow faces baring promises of sun and new life. My husband and I have been working hard to prepare the yard in our little rented home for our spring/summer/fall garden. We are trying our hand at raised beds (built by my bearded darling) and I am quite excited. Our kitchen has turned into a makeshift greenhouse, complete with grow lights, dangling cords, and trays of tiny sprouts.
After many years of using my Canon 50mm 1.8, I was finally able to upgrade to the 85mm 1.8. Oh, sweet mother of pearl! The difference (I think) it makes in my photos. It's love, I tell you. As always, I find I still struggle with composition, a feat I hope to overcome one day. Next up: a full-frame DSLR. Sigh. A girl can dream.
Oh, and we finally took the canoe out (to Loon Lake) for her maiden voyage. There was nary a soul out on the water save for a couple of geese, who seemingly glared at us for infringing upon their space before flying off, honking most disgruntledly. I had never been canoeing in my life but I fell head over heels in love with it. I'm terrible and desperately need to work on my awkward stroking but I had a glorious time as did the husband and my little wildlings, who hooted and shrieked and squealed and bellowed and made every other loud noise excited children can make.
I also am keeping my fingers (and toes) crossed about an opportunity I'm wholeheartedly hoping comes to fruit. Here's to hoping!
Have a beautiful day, friends.

Love,
Karrina

You Found Another Lover (And I Lost Another Friend)

Love this song. Love Ben Harper.

Minuscule Doses

1. This view of Molly always makes me chuckle. The poor girl doesn't understand why there is a barrier preventing her from chasing all the cats and birds (who sit on the other side of the fence and mock her). 2. Walks with Molly down this gorgeous country road. If only she could understand that I'm a walker, not a runner. It's a akin to trying to walk a sled dog. 3. Local wine made right across the street from my hobbit hole.

Gratitude lately

Eliminating cane sugar and animal products (with the exception of honey) from my diet was/is a bit tough but this agave sweetened coconut milk ice cream (made in Eugene!) sure takes the edge off.

Bare trees ready to wake from their long winter's sleep and the ever beautiful Umpqua river.

The joy Molly exhibits when she's near water.

My sweet friends Bekah, Emily, and Molly are always expressing such gratitude for their beautiful, humble lives and it has inspired me to follow suit.
What are you grateful for today, friends?

Life lately and happiness

I've been doing much reflecting, thinking, pondering, analyzing, soul searching, etc, as of late. The question that seems to continuously resurface is: what is happiness? I'm not speaking of actions or material items that cause fleeting happiness (i.e. acing a test or purchasing a new shirt), rather, a state of mind, something that continuously brings you bouts of joy. Last night, on a whim. I decided to watch a documentary titled Happy. It answered so many questions and really struck a chord with me on how I've been feeling for, well, years now. They searched the globe in search of the happiest people and found them in the most unlikely and arbitrary of places. Guess what, folks? Money/financial security accounts for very little in the pursuit of happiness. The happiest people get their regular supply of dopamine from such things as being surrounded by nature, physical activity, expressing compassion, loving what they do (work wise), structured religion, and social interaction among close friends and family.
A little over eight years ago, I decided I needed to experience life outside of Hawai'i and step outside of my comfort zone. I left behind surfing, friends, and sense of belonging. I have grown much since moving to Oregon but every day is a battle of culture shock assuaged only by the breathtaking beauty of the state and the unconditional love of my family. How do you make friends when you're married with children, have no religious affiliation (being an atheist is quite lonely), and have no interest in most sports? I don't seem to have much common ground with many people...so I have decided I must spend more time with nature, find some physical activity I enjoy, find something I love to do (not waitressing), spend more time with my family (as they are my only friends and support system here), submerge myself in books, gardening, spend more time in the kitchen, and find/make time doing all the little things that bring me little bits of happiness. And to continuously be grateful for all that I have.

The Poetry of earth...

                                      ...is never dead:

When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead	5
In summer luxury,—he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost	10
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.

             
                                    - John Keats, 28. On the Grasshopper and Cricket

This past summer's end, we said good-bye to our little farmhouse rental and moved fifteen miles down the road to a little town nestled upon the banks of the Umpqua river. This meant we also said farewell to our quasi farm life living; good-bye chickens, ducks, and darling goats, so long ridiculously large kitchen garden, fare thee well wandering down the nearly quarter of a mile long driveway to pluck deliciously plump and juicy blackberries from their thorny brambles. Old, gnarled, and majestic pear tree with your swing that made it feel as though you were gliding through the air, I miss you so.
From this beautiful chapter of our life was born the name "bucolic beauty." A beauty, having grown up in Hawai'i, I only read about in Beatrix Potter books.
What I have rarely, if ever mentioned here, was/is just how much hard work, blood, sweat, and tears (and tears) go into living this sort of idyllic lifestyle. A lifestyle that doesn't always look like the illustrations in charming children's stories or photographs you've pinned on Pinterest, especially when you have a most modest income. Nevertheless, quasi farm life living taught me much. It also made me realize that although I adored my chickens, ducks, pigs, and goats, animal husbandry was/is not for me; at least, not at this moment in my life. Maybe when I know we can turn a home into our forever home. For now, I have gardening, which I love dearly (but please don't judge me by our very sad flower bed. The deer can't seem to keep out of it.) and keeps my soul at peace.
Now that I no longer have a homestead to look after, I work at a little bakery/cafe/restaurant across the street from our (rented) home. On my days off, I try not to think about work and fill my hours with chores and trying to come up with some content for my erratic space here. I have also felt that the time has come for   a new name, one that doesn't necessarily reflect my current settings; one that comes from deep within the obsidian caverns of my soul and emanates the essence of my being.
Let the searching commence.

Unfurl

‎"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. "
 - Anais Nin

I've often reflected on these wise and poignant words, marveling at the profound metaphor and how it bears much resemblance to my own tightly bound soul. With the darkest days behind us and the onset of the upcoming spring, I choose to reflect the simple yet quite remarkable act of an enclosed blossom; allowing the light to slowly and gently unfurl its gossamer petals, exposing her delicate heart, much needed and depended upon in the circle of life.
I choose to unfurl.