A Wandering Soul

I like Tumblr because it seems like my posts go out to a larger audience. This is very satisfying as an artist and a traveler.  A few things that bother me though are the sites that just re-blog other people’s work and think it defines them. 

I am a hands on person. This might show my age but I like to go to the museum and see the painting. I like to walk down the street and see the instillation. I like to go to the ocean and touch the starfish. I like to feel the spray of the waterfall. 

These things are what define me. Experiences that I will remember verses a 5 minutes glancing at a 3X5 image of some fantastic photograph.

When you go to see Montana you smell the sage and feel the spirits that linger there.

When you walk down the street in New York you not only see a section of Time Square; you see the street performers doing flips, hear the hot dog vendors call out and taste the amazing Vietnamese food at the corner restaurant. 

When you hike a mountain you strain your self as you change elevation. You can feel the thinness in the air and steady your self on the loose gravel. You feel small, frightened, in aw and accomplished in that moment. 

These are the things that define a person. We can’t help but have a limited spectrum of the world. Re-blogging is awesome especially when you have the experiences to understand that photo just a little bit better. When a photo reminds you of your own moment out in the desert as the sun was setting or when you stood in a farm field and saw a deer emerge from the forests edge for a bite to eat. 

There is a guy in the last booth on the left at the Forest Grove Farmer’s Market who has the best vegetables I have ever had. He sells eggs as well.

Every week I would come and ask him if he remembered me. He never did until one week I stopped by and bought some eggs. I asked what size they were and he opened the box. They were a verity of sizes. He said his chickens never laid the same size eggs. He pointed out the huge one on the corner. I pointed at it and with wide eyes and exclaimed “That one hurt on the way out”.He just about died laughing. He has remembered me ever since.

This week he introduced me to Tomatillos. I can’t believe I have lived this long with out ever trying one. They are sweet like a grape with hints of tomato and maybe sweet peppers in them. I am totally addicted. I bought the entire basket of them. 

I am making chicken noodle soup with the leftovers of the roasted chicken we made last night with a side salad of spinach, romaine lettuce and the baby yellow tomatoes I also found at my friends stand.