Halfway

My birthday, July 2nd is halfway to the new year. Yes, 182.5 days before Jan.1 and 182.5 days after. It always reminds me that I can choose to look at life with a half empty or half full philosophy and half full is what I strive for. This July 2nd was lovely and warm with blue skies and a breeze. I took no pictures in Paulsbo where I sat on the patio of Paulsbohemian Coffee shop in a funky wooden deck chair and read my book, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. When I wasn't absorbed in the mystery I could look up and see sailboats skimming across the water and hear the cling clang of the ropes against the masts of the boats in the marina below the coffee shop. Chris hung his paintings inside the shop. I think I had the better end of the deal; a book in hand and sunshine on my knees. Then on we went to Port Townsend and I resisted taking yet more photos of the Victorian houses., I had done that enough on my last visit in 2009. But I did go on the gallery walk in town. The blue skies turned to gray and the pleasant breeze became a chilly wind in the late afternoon. July 3rd the gray skies were back and I was glad I had my jacket when we walked through Chetzemoka Park. The poem at the end of this post was on a sign in the park. The last stanza of the poem is my favorite. It explains the reason why the Gunnera that I am standing in front of is so immense. You almost expect a dinosaur to come galumphing from behind the leaves!


This is a trellis that supports about 4 different colors of climbing roses.

This section of the landscaping was a gift from Vancouver, BC, Canada.

A lot of rain makes for ENORMOUS leaves on this Gunnera.


Gazebos as big as this always make me think of the Sound of Music.

Wonderful views!

Mary Lou Sanelli

July Morning, Chetzemoka Park

I like to sit in the swing, the one closest to the sandbox
where toddlers play, their mothers sitting on the rim
chatting up preschools, the latest movie at The Rose.
As morning strolls toward noon, one will brush the sand
off her child and the others will follow suit.
I love the oneness I feel with this park,
though, today, a woman walks by and throws me
a glance that shoots a blunt arrow into my calm.
It is appropriate to say I am cut
from her life but that’s another small-town poem
entirely.

If I have a day without duties, I like to lie on my back
looking up at a maze of clouds that give shape
to a puffy clan of faces I try to name.
One looks like my Uncle Pete
the morning after a poker game.
This is when I find myself
overcome by happiness, when an afternoon
stretches out before me empty as sky. When rocking
in a wooden swing and watching the crows
is more than enough work for one day.
By the gazebo, a friend mows the lawn
and waves to me because when I think of it
we’ve known each other a decade now
plus a few years.

This park, beach-bound and camouflaged
in cedar wraps me in its arms and laughs.
In this state of mind I resist all I know
of fall, winter, persistent parts of spring.
When sunless skies define what is real, I remind myself,
when you live in a luxury of water. Of rivers, rain,
lakes and sea. Where, if a city park could speak
it would say, Girl, rain is the very reason
I am as ravishing as this.