Mr. Blowhole’s feet

Seamus wanted to hear some stories involving Sue and I. One of my favorites is a visit to Bloedel Reserve which is a property in northern Bainbridge Island landscaped within an inch of its life, with a Japanese Pavilion, a chauteau, and acres of trees and ponds.

Sue and I were ambling around enjoying ourselves when I spied a fence delinieating, I suppose, a separate space not open to visitors. But we spied a low cedar-shingled house, northwest style through the trees and decided to explore.

She and I climbed over the fence and hiked up a gentle slope toward the house. A window just at eye level intrigued us. We walked up to the window. A man was lying on his back in bed. His feet were uncovered. White, white white, it reminded me of a stone carving on top of a sarcophagus. Before a minute or two had passed, a jeep approached from around the front of the house and a man with a loudspeaker was yelling “You are on private property. Get out. Get out.”

We ran back to the fence. I would like to say we vaulted over it into the bushes but we fumbled our way over and ran. I know it was rude, and certainly unbecoming to elderly ladies, but we laughed for five minutes, breathless and delighted with ourselves.

(I have always called the Bloedel reserve the Blowhole Reserve as Mr. Bloedel made his money clearcutting trees in BC and in Wa.)

Sue came for a visit

As I lay in bed dozing this morning ,I had a dream that Sue showed up at my house. One of my kids called out from the back stoop “Sue is here”, and there she was. Suey. She came down into the garden where I was working on constucting an art project which she had already completed and I had just begun. I thought of all the projects we had worked on and those she had completed over the years:

baskets, wooden spoon making, a sauna, bags, and clothes, and artwork, her BA in philosophy, artwork, more artwork, strange and wonderful small sewing pieces, building a sauna, building a gardening shed and chicken run,retiling the kitchen floor. She and her sister went to a cob house building workshop, and on and on.

She was constantly exploring her world, her interests,her passions. She was a wonder and found and expanded upon everything in her environment. Sue was a craftsman. Not in the small sense, ‘crafty’, but as in artist.

What she brought to everything I think was attention to detail, curiosity and love. She loved things by creating them, by opening up their potentialities. She made stuff bloom.

She made people bloom. I felt heard and loved. Her love helped me heal through many difficult times. She said I did the same but I am not sure that was ever true. What was and is true, is that she was my best friend.

Seeing her in my dream, the complete her, the joyful ever present her was a gift. Come back Sue. Come back.