The House at Pololu

                      The House at Pololu

               I remember thick green mint, crushed beneath our sandy feet as we drank out of a small silver cup that hung from the faucet. It smelled delicious, fresh and cool and it made the last long walk up the hill unbelievably worth it.

          The house clung at the top of a long sloping driveway, partially hidden behind a small forest of banana trees.  It gave it  the air of a tree fort. There were windows with wooden shutters, or bamboo screens to roll down at night or on rainy days. There were mosquito nettings for every bed, and bookshelves full of books, some in Japanese, which seemed both exotic and exciting. The shower remained a mystery to me all my childhood and youth- I could never manage the hot and cold water right, but somehow,  that too was exotic and added to its charm.

       

         The Surinam cherry tree- did it ever go out of season? I remember it always full of cherries. They were tart and sweet, and tasted like nothing on earth but themselves.  I would circle it, eating as I went, rashly at first but with more discretion after a full round.

       There was a beautiful terraced garden, bursting with everything you could wish for in a salad. My salad-loving young heart fell in love at first glance. Gardens, especially terraced ones,   were new to me, and I can still see and smell the nasturtiums and even the cilantro when I think of it.

       An oasis means different things to different people, and that house meant oasis to me. It wasn't my home, nor was it my family, but when I'm homesick it's for that family, that home; for the sun sparkling on the waves below and the winds that rushed up from the  ocean.

        The Lord reigneth, he is clothed with majesty; the Lord is clothed with strength, wherewith he hath girded himself: the world also is stablished, that it cannot be moved.

       Thy throne is established of old: thou art from everlasting.

      The floods have lifted up, O Lord, the floods have lifted up their voice; the floods lift up their waves.

      The Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea.

       Thy testimonies are very sure: holiness becometh thine house, O Lord, for ever.

                        P s a l m       93

            Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you.

                         W a l t    W h i t m a n 

   "Dad's twenty-nine now," Chloe said thoughtfully.     Her age is linked with his and she notices it. Last year it was twenty-eight and five; this year, twenty-nine and six.  The wheels of time turn round and round each year with equality. I was nineteen when I had her, just a girl, and just a woman.   She will always be Eldest; my Firstborn- words I disliked for myself but that seem so fitting for this dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty of a daughter.  May she have every gift we can bestow, and surpass us in every way.

     "It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to."

                     J R R   T o l k i e n 

J u l y 15

        The sun shines down, deliciously hot on my bare shoulders. Eleanor naps on a big striped pillow in the shade of a lawn chair, her eyelashes soft and thick resting on her little round cheeks. Her baby lips inspire kissing at all times, and she is sleeping too deeply to be woken by a kiss or two.
      Anthony, the son of his father, industriously pushes a miniature red wheelbarrow full of clippings back and forth across our small green lawn.
       Chloe and Elysia are playing at being rabbits,  picking wild flowers and clover stems for their dinner, and the shade of the lilac tree is dappled across the grassy hillside.
 
       The lake hums with summer noise, boats and float planes buzzing to and fro across and above the blue water. I'm reading 'My Life in France' by Julia Child- I love it, but her writing always makes me madly hungry. I think there is a watermelon cooling in the icebox.

                      Oh July! I adore you.

                         

           

                    
     "It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things."

             L e o n a r d o   d a  V i n c i

J u l y 1 0

J u l y  1 0

  The rain has fallen thickly all morning; there is nothing half - hearted about our good Alaskan summer rain.  I keep a window or two open so we can enjoy the sound of it falling. The gray sky envelopes the sun, and it is hard to tell whether it is ten o'clock or two! Eleanor sleeps on our soft white  bed, her sweet round face a  perfect 'O' on the pillow. Eleanor  Olympia.   You are like a creamy peony, or a full-blown white rose. How did I ever live without you?