notes from the kelp

…listen
…info about the music

Music for wherever the home chakra might be.

Moses and Smudge have figured out that this place is not just another in a long string of motels, but HOME. Housekeeping here leaves much to be desired, however, as does the cardboard box-themed decor. Chaos abounds as we attempt to put all our stuff from the previous place into this new place, but these guys are thankfully oblivious. I wish my knees, feet and hands were. I’ve had more exercise in the past few days from unpacking and shuttling heavy things to various spots than I’ve had in years, not to mention stubbed toes and other indignant bruises. We joined the gym in town, but at this rate I’ll need to rest up and recuperate before I can lift weights with no purpose of transportation or organization.

Smudge saw his very first large mammal today, and was riveted. Having been rescued six years ago from the streets of downtown Los Angeles, he had no clue what it was. Black tail deer are everywhere on our densely wooded property; they have no predators on the island. Throughout each day I see them on the other side of the picture window when I’m showering or in the studio setting things up, and this afternoon I was able to say hello in person, when one strolled by as I was leaving the shed. He didn’t bolt, he just stood there with beautiful eyes and looked at me, ears perked. I stayed still and spoke quietly, and he resumed eating the brush while I resumed searching for the box that held my ample collection of field guides, so I might know just what flora and fauna this magical forest of shore pines, cedars, firs and alders contains. Two days ago a mother and her days-old fawn were here, and it was so lovely that I almost cried.

There are thousands of trees around this house on all sides, with a filtered view of the water across the way. The first night we were here, Charles and I sat in amazement at our great fortune to be the caretakers of this small piece of the planet. But today began with mixed emotions: four decent-size trees had to be felled because their roots were beginning to take hold of our septic tank, and it would be the tank that would lose this tug of war. Several professional opinions determined that there was no other option, but we felt terrible: we had purchased these acres to be stewards of the land and protectors of every growing thing on it; this felt somehow hypocritical. Yet the new clearing now allows sunshine to reach other trees that needed it, and the circle of photosynthetic life goes on. Plus, we got an added bonus: a terrific yard in front of the glass-walled living room, before the woods begin and a little trail wanders off through parts I’m eager to explore. I apologized to the trees we sacrificed, and thanked the ones who will benefit as I do, from the gift of space and light.