Purple Moonlight Pages

Instead of counting sheep,  on those nights when I can't fall into an immediate deep and perfect sleep, my mind traces over old thoughts, ancient thoughts, thoughts I had back when I was a kid. Such was the case last night when I heard the far away sound of a train whistle blowing.  It went off three times, in the wee hours, confirming it was real and not an auditory hallucination. Right away I thought back to the night I laid in bed, back in my childhood home, thinking of the abandoned hotel that sat next to the railroad tracks.

That night I went over the architecture and what I had seen through the dusty windows that day. How it stood exactly six windows wide and went back 16 windows. I counted and recounted them imagining who could have been at those windows "through the ages". I pictured men and women dress in 1920's dress clothes checking in, climbing the stairs, flicking on a light and taking in the sight of the town across the tracks. I went on to picture people from every era since then, staring out of windows from all sides of the hotel, taking in the sunrise on the east side,  bothered by the neon and noise coming from the  cafe across the street and staring out when the train passed at dusk to the west. My eyes stretched as far as they could that day wishing they could go around corners, up stairs, behind walls, into every room. I ached to explore the building. I wanted to know it, hear it speak and have it tell me all it's stories.

Last night I thought of how I am still correct in assuming that the hotel was once a very smartly decorated and efficient place, neat and organized. When it stood abandoned, the furniture inside was simple, clean lines, leather cushions, no signs of kitsch or garish vulgarity just stoic white walls, serious, dark stained wood trim and an art deco front desk. Handsome. It was just dusty, I thought, not gone, not broken. It stood year after year until the early 90's when for no reason it was bulldozed. There was nothing in the paper to commemorate or explain it's destruction. I mourned.

After I finished this lullaby of memories I realized I have always had a fascination with motels and hotels since I was a tiny kid.  I have always liked them and enjoyed being in them. Was it already in the works, over thirty five years ago? I wondered if this time I am living now was already written decades ago. Then I drifted off to sleep with the word disproportionate on my tongue, referring to the amount of time spent riding trains, years that have passed since the hotel was torn down... Time has passed and created an imbalance. My life is no longer one third train rides or equal distance from when the hotel stood near the tracks.

I woke up early and craving something. It took all day to discover that all I needed was to watch Pull My Daisy. Each time I think of Robert Frank's Pull My Daisy I get all warm and fuzzy inside. What a collection of talent and creativity that came together for the 28 minute movie. On melancholic days, like today, when the  heavy morning fog lingers past 8am and it seems that time creeps like pea soup on an old tablecloth, I could watch Pull My Daisy over and over and find something new each time. I find it incredibly edifying and it inspires other worldly thoughts.


Catch it when you can...

A beautiful, bright, double rainbow appeared over us on the first day of fall in Baltimore, MD.  It stretched from one side of the city to the other, thrilling us with it's size and colors. It was a magical moment I truly savored.  Reminded me that these are the "good ole days",  not to be forgotten.

On the road

After longer than expected time off due to flooding in the East, we finally hit the road again tomorrow.  I leave with a new and improved list of items I would love to find thrifting or at flea markets, items that include but not limited to vinyl.  Come Spring we'll be adding on to the rolling caravan of fun and adventure and I would like to have a welcome basket of vintage sundries and nostalgic gifties prepared.

I find myself looking forward more and more for those deliciously stocked, independently owned book stores much like the one we stumbled upon in Kentucky. When we pulled a book out of the shelf, there was no backing to the shelf. When we took a look, we could see a giant, dark room on the other side with shelf after pregnant shelf just overflowing with books. We asked the owner if we could browse that room but she replied that it was her warehouse. I still find myself fantasizing over what could be there.

We leave Texas just as glimpses of autumn are being ushered in. This evening I caught the feeling of October and almost expected the scents of that month to come wafting by. Since it is a big festival month in the state, there  has never been an October, in my memory,  without the smell of caramel corn, cotton candy and even pinion wood burning late in the evening. I would always get the chiminea and Mexican hot chocolate started by mid month.


Adventures on the horizon...

We find ourselves back in Texas for a few days, preparing and loading for the duration. We will be spending the fall and winter in Maryland and Illinois. I sort through my fall and winter clothing trying hard to keep frigid temperatures in mind. My winters have rarely dipped below 20 degrees for longer than a few hours.  There is some suitable attire due to my fondness for wool pieces. I never thought the collection of heavy clothing that I have been accumulating over the years, much too warm and unnecessary for Texas, would ever be of real use to me.

My sewing machine and our new Ragdoll kitten, Lizzy, will be in tow on this trip. So far, she travels well. I'll have company during the day while I read and try to work on a few projects. She has a wonderful disposition and is so lovely to just look at. I have missed living with an animal. The ability to just let the mind drift away and be nothing but present with them is a wonderful gift. Home is expanding and is now wherever My Guy and my sweet, sweet Lizzy are.


Extreme Conditions

The news about the drought in Texas that I heard of when in Indiana were not exaggerated.  In fact, upon entering our poor, crispy brown state, we were greeted by one the infamous wildfires along the highway.

After spending close to eight weeks experiencing moderate temperatures in a very green state with flowing streams and rain showers, returning to Texas was not the shock I expected it would be.  But then, how did I ever think it could be shocking returning to what I am familiar with? Having played outside in triple digit heat during my childhood, the sight of cracked earth and vegetation burned to a crisp, even the cactus, a common sight, I found myself feeling quite moved entering my state. Texas, with it's severe, summer temperatures, it's barrenness, dustiness and scorched landscape will survive.