All posts by Helen C

Travels

Independence Day

Early morning on Long Island

I took this picture early one morning in East Hampton, Long Island two years ago while on vacation.

That week Dave and I developed a habit of getting up very early and biking around. The geography was so flat, biking was nearly effortless. We felt so lighthearted and free that week. We usually feel that way, but some events lately have been weighing heavily on both of us. We’re starting to lighten up again and I’m looking forward to the rest of the summer.

So today is my independence day, too. I’m freeing myself of the sadness and anger I’ve been holding. I’m forgiving myself and others. I’m moving on.

I had a yoga teacher a few years ago who left the area last year. When I first started working with him, I did not like his practice. It seemed to ask too much. Then I grew to love it. Michael ended every class with this blessing:

“May you go forth with courage and creativity in your hearts and in your lives. Shalom, shalom, shalom. Shanti, shanti, shanti. Peace. Namaste.”

Nostalgia, Philosophy

Carpe diem and all that

Watercolors

While helping my parents sort through the tangle of their belongings in preparation for a move, we came across the set of watercolors pictured above. They were given to me for Christmas when I was around 7.

At that age, I loved to draw. Someone noticed and tried to give me the tools to develop my creativity. I treasured those little tubes, but I didn’t want to use them up and not have them any more. So I kept them safe. And they dried up.

I discovered their useless state when I was 19; I abandoned them at my parents’ house when I left for college later that year. It took time, but I did learn the lesson that in saving something for too long, we risk losing it. Thrift and caution are not always good.

I never had the pleasure of squeezing those bright pigments onto an artist’s palette and seeing them blend under the soft bristles of a sable brush. I have other watercolors now. I don’t use them often for other reasons, but I think I will get them out and see what develops.

Uncategorized

Tell me a story

The Stinson House, Quechee, April 2005

We’ve heard a lot of stories about the yellow house since we moved in 5 years ago. We’ve been told at various times that our house is haunted, was built from the first lumber out of the Dewey Mills sawmill, belonged to a successful Quechee businessman named Mr. Tinkham, is the oldest house in Quechee, was a major party house in the 1980s, had a front door painted lavender, and was once condemned.

Some of these things are true: one of the partiers who lived here is a friend. Some are false: the Dewey Mills churned out woolens and satinet, not lumber. Some things we made up ourselves.

As to the question of ghosts–it’s easy to understand why one would assume we are haunted. We are situated near the old and new Quechee cemeteries. The old, “inactive” cemetery is just across Old Quechee Road. It’s a lovely place, and the destination of a Valley Quest treasure hunt.

The new cemetery is at the top of the hill behind our house. You can see a corner of it in the photo above. I walk Cammy there from time to time. I haven’t investigated how many plots are still available, but fresh graves appear regularly. Some of the grave markers don’t have death dates–a kind of planning I’m not capable of yet.

But we do not appear to have ghosts. Sure, we get spooked walking by the cemetery at night, but have seen no evidence of paranormal phenomena. Sometimes when I’m home alone at night, I’ll look up from what I’m doing and wonder about all the people who have passed through these rooms, treading the uneven, creaking floors, living through their own moments of joy or sadness. So odd that they seem not to have left a trace.