Having spent a large portion of the last 12 months in New Mexico I came to remember the area I grew up in with a mixed joy making me notice more than ever, the differences of where Ken and I call home now.
Bowen Island is beautiful and is on the ocean. Los Alamos is beautiful high up in the mountain. Los Alamos is dry, Bowen wet. Los Alamos is brown, Bowen green. Los Alamos is vast, Bowen is dense. Los Alamos was home, Bowen is home.
As different as yin is to yang, Bowen and Los Alamos each hold the turn around points that inspire me.
I spend a lot of time walking around both places, and yesterday I took a photo that showed a difference so similar to a photo I took in Dodge that it captured a memory.
In Los Alamos there is tar. Tar pits and tar roads and tar bubbles that I can not walk by without poking with a stick or finger.
The same compulsion overcame me when I saw a frozen puddle of water on Bowen.
Some things in life I just have to mess with, no matter where they are.
    
Tar and ice are two of them.
“Capturing a memory”: a lovely place to connect the dots that form the shape of a life.
Did you per chance, also have a fancy for dissecting dead stuff? As a young child, I scooped the dead goldfish out of the garden pond and dissected them with great care in what I considered a private sanctuary–the sloped pine woods behind our house.
Jenny – ewwwwww!!! But I do have lots of tar pit stories.
Hah! I was fairly certain my Bowen friend was not the dissecting-dead-stuff-kind-of-pal. Love you anyway!