Great State Burger

We were knee-deep into a Seattle shopping trip at University Village when we realized we were starving. 

Three adult daughters with very different ideas about  what would make for a good lunch. 

A wide variety of restaurants at the mall, all carrying premium price tags

And me working a new eating plan requiring protein, protein, and more protein. 

As we lounged on the couches in the Anthropologie furniture display, I flipped open my Google app, and took a deep breath, knowing that this was going to be a project. 

And then, straight from heaven, the perfect inspiration fell onto my comfortably seated lap. 

Great State Burger. 

Fun but not fancy. 

Just a few blocks away. 

Favorited by all my offspring. 

And well within my eating plan parameters.

Besides putting out a delicious menu of cheeseburger basics, Great State emphasizes natural food from local sources. The beef is grass-fed, the milkshakes  have real strawberries, the packaging is all compostable or recyclable: this is the kind of  business that I really like to support. 

So off we sailed, and soon we were seated in quirky schoolroom-style wooden chairs with turquoise accents, our heart-eyes beaming at the tray full of beautiful food. In silence, we devoured every morsel and then sat back and smiled at each other in delicious satisfaction. 

Great State Burger was a perfect choice for lunch. 

My 2018 Handmade Valentines

"I'm like the kid in kindergarten. I really do send Valentines to everyone." 

-Susie Bright

Me too, Susie. Me too

I find few things as satisfying as gathering up bits of paper and bottles of paint, and busting out a flurry of Valentines at my kitchen table.

This year's batch was easy, fast, and fun. 

I ripped watercolor paper into postcard-sized pieces.

I painted each card three times: 

The first time, I covered the whole card with pink or red watercolor.

The second time, I added the same color to the bottom two-thirds of the card.

And the third time, I painted just the bottom third. 

In order to get the crisp lines between the graduated colors, I patiently let each layer dry before I added the next.

That's a lie. 

I may have waited. But I guarantee that I did not wait patiently.

Watercolor makes me crazy with all the waiting for layers to dry. But, as I must constantly remind myself, it's always worth the wait. 

Once the watercolor layers were dry - and I mean thoroughly dry, out came the gold acrylic paint and a small, pointy brush.

The small, pointy brushes never stay properly pointy for long. Their bristles tend to wobble and spread, and again, if we're being honest, I'd rather just go buy a new one than try to coax an old timer to shape up and get the job done right. 

I bought a new one for this project. 

To really get top notch saturation on my gold Xs and Os, I double-coated sections of the letters as needed. 

The Valentine manufacturing process is not for the faint of heart. 

More dying time. Lots more drying time. 

We ate dinner in the dining room for the better part of the week. 

But in good time, my creations were ready to be tucked into envelopes and mailed off across the world. 

Which is just as it should be. Love is meant to be shared, and Valentine's Day is the perfect time for me to remind all the people in my life that they matter. 

And that is why, just like a kid in kindergarten,  I send Valentines to everyone I know. 

* * * * *

Every year, I make my own Valentines and every year, they're just a little bit different:

2021 Sending Valentines

2019 Valentines

My 2018 Handmade Valentines 

2014 Draw This: Watercolor Valentines

2013 Valentines: Take Heart

2012 Handmade Valentine Love

Harbingers Of Spring

In autumn of 1986, I was a brand spanking new, first-time homeowner with an itch to plant a garden. 

Along with a dozen bright red tulips and several miniature 'Tête-à-tête' daffodils, I bought a dozen purple crocus bulbs and without any concern for light requirements, planting depth, or soil amendments, I simply popped them into the ground. 

My optimism trumped my garden experience. I simply hoped for the best. 

Thirty some odd years later, I think it's fair to say my crocuses have taken hold. 

For all these many years, these hardy fellows have been first to greet me as they spring forth in the last days of winter. The strengthening sunlight coaxes the blooms up among the old leaves of autumn and persuades the purple petals to open. 

Each blossom waxes and wanes in just a day or two. Thankfully, more blossoms pop up every day, so the waves of new flowers rolls on for a week or two. 

Even so, the season of the crocuses is always over too soon. Which always makes me feel a bit sad.

I remind myself every year that they are just the first of many flowers that will pop up here and there across my yard for months to come. 

They are not the end. 

They are just the beginning. 

They are the harbingers of spring, these purple crocuses of mine, and even though I'm now quite an experienced gardener, they still fill me with optimism. 

Birthday Hikes 1 And 2

Another birthday for my fourth-born nature-loving daughter, another hike in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest, right?

Wrong.

On this birthday outing, we hiked two lovely trails in a single afternoon, each one a dream. 

Gracie loves to lead our hikes. She also loves to double back, walk in circles around us, and tie us up in a life-size cat's cradle. 

The original plan was to combine forest and beach in a single hike along the beach access trail at South Whidbey State Park. But due to beach erosion, that trail has been shuttered indefinitely. So we shifted our sights to the Wilburt Trail, an easy .8 mile stroll through old growth.

Approximately once every 2.5 seconds, she swivels her head back to make sure we're still coming. 

And what a tale these trees could tell, if only they could talk. Back in 1977, this lovely glade was slated to be clear cut until a local small-scale logger named Jack Noel recognized the value of rhis place as one of the few remaining stands of old growth on the island, and vowed to protect it. Noel rallied the community to help him, and together they formed a group called Save The Trees.

One key feature of an old growth forest is the wide spaces between the towering mature trees and plenty of leafy ferns on the forest floor in which the Ewoks hide.

Yes. You've heard the slogan. This is where it all began. 

Way, way over our heads, the trees' canopies nearly block out the sun. Which on a rainy February day in the Pacific Northwest is a particularly funny joke. 

The Wilburts, for whom the trail is named, joined the group and were apparently particularly stalwart defenders of said trees. 

I'm no expert but over the years I've learned to tell most local evergreens by their distinctive bark. The Western Red Cedar features smooth, even lines that are just begging to be harvested by a Coast Salish native and woven into a delicate basket. 

Fast forward to the happy ending: these majestic old trees were indeed saved, though not without being encircled by humans holding hands to protect the trees against chain saws and bulldozers. 

Try as I might, I failed to convince my dog to pose for me inside this cedar tree. 
She has her own mind. 

I am not kidding. These woods gave birth to the tree-hugging movement and forever changed the way Washington manages its forests. 

I
If a group of threatening loggers suddenly burst from the brush, I have no doubt that my birthday girl would hug the Ancient Cedar for all she's worth.  

This particular tree, known as the Ancient Cedar and revered as the Queen of the Forest, dates back at least 500 years and was one of the favored trees protected by the tree-huggers. Visiting just a week after Valentine's Day, we noticed that the ground around the trunk was strewn with red rose petals, which led us to theorize that someone used this magical place for a marriage proposal. Brilliant idea. 

Pretty feet. Good thing we brought plenty of towels. 

We cruised the full length of the Wilbert Trail, then followed our steps back again. A great trail for little kids, though we saw mostly dogs with their humans. 

Gracie explored thoroughly and repeatedly demonstrated her fearlessness of oozing black mud. 

Which was all well and good. But now our muddy princess was in desperate need of some beachfront playtime and salt-water bathing stat.

She marched right into the water, well above the line of mud on her legs, and I breathed a sigh of contentment and relief. 

Happily, our old friend Double Bluff Beach waited for us just a few miles down the island. The mud didn't even have time to dry before Gracie was romping across the sand and into the chilly water. 

"Ducks! I see ducks!"

Plenty of dogs and their humans at this spot too, though even at high tide, the beach offers plenty of room to spread out. Gracie greeted a handful of dogs her size in a subdued fashion, then found a poodle wearing a turquoise fleece vest who really captured her fancy. Their joyful romp set us all to smiling. 

The sky was filled with waves of  rolling grey clouds, straight in off the Pacific Ocean. We filled our lungs with snapping cold air till we felt renewed; raindrops fell but not hard enough to threaten our fun. 

Gulls soared through the air, ducks floated in platoons across the waves which always delights Gracie, and we saw a bald eagle at the top of the bluff, watching us staring back up at him. 

My husband came along and so we had binoculars. He's the type who always remembers to bring the binoculars. 

We hitched a ride on the MV Tokitae, the older of Mukilteo's two ferries. launched in 2014 to carry 144 vehicles across the water more than a dozen times a day. 

And then, with the afternoon well spent, we headed home. 

Okay it's not Palm Springs but I love this place. 

Just a few miles back across the island, and then a hop, skip, and a jump across Possession Sound, and we're home.

On both of our crossings today, we were one of the last cars boarded, affording us a lovely view from our mirrors. Here's looking at you, Whidbey Island. 

And while this marks the end of another splendid birthday outing, with not one but two satisfying adventures, we will soon be back, Whidbey Island. We've always got our sights set on you. 

Safe And Sound

Crossing the street toward home, Gracie's mind is on one thing: dinner. 

When I heard the unmistakable sound of a dog barking up ahead, my brain sounded a red alert.

Gracie and I were about to round the corner of our secret building on the back property of our local high school. Surrounded by woods and a wide, smooth, and rarely-used paved lane, on weekends and school holidays such as today, this is a perfect place to let a dog off leash for a romp. 

Which is fine. As long as the dog is friendly.

I pulled my dog's ultra long leash up short as we approached the turn, and sure enough, we stepped around to find a thirty-ish year old couple and their two big dogs. Both pets were off leash, and the woman was holding one of those plastic ball-flinging devices. I shuffled and stamped enough to make sure they heard me, and sure enough, all four heads snapped in our direction.

Which might have been fine. 

Before the walk, I fill her bowl and have it ready to go upon our return. 
She wastes no time in digging in. 

Since my dogs have been attacked a handful of times over the years in what appeared at first to be friendly encounters, I now go to great lengths to avoid meeting dogs I don't know. When both dogs are leashed, I keep my dog well out of the other dog's range and that does the trick. But when the other dog is off leash, my always-leashed dog and I are at a serious disadvantage. 

The English sheepdog showed no inclination to meet us, but the Black Lab mix, who stood a bit taller than Gracie, took a bee line toward us.

"Zeus! Come!" Mama called, but guess what. 

Zeus did not come. 

He continued his march toward Gracie and me.

I quickly assessed Zeus's body language:

Eyes locked in on my dog,

Ears back,

Teeth slightly bared,

Tail frozen,

Stiff legs, 

And prickling black hackles standing up along the full length of his neck. 

I recognized the classic signs of a dog in aggressive mode. 

Which was definitely not fine at all. 

Her nose does not come up out of the bowl until every last bite is gone. 

With Gracie pressed against my left side, clearly intimidated, I began to slowly back up.

Zeus continued toward us. 

His people were standing and watching, apparently oblivious to their dog's obviously aggressive posture. To be honest, I was terrified.

In the next instant, I was utterly surprised to hear myself speak in a calm yet commanding voice:

"Call off your dog. Now."

Finally the woman acted. Still not seeming to read her dog's behavior, she walked over to where Zeus was backing us up along the lane, and after what seemed like ten minutes rather than ten seconds, grabbed his collar and hauled him back. 

Both my mildly panicked dog and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and booked it away from them as fast as we could. 

Which was absolutely wonderful.

While I get ready to prepare the humans' evening meal, Gracie settles into her favorite post-dinner spot: directly in front of the kitchen sink.

While part of me wanted to give those two a good lecture about the perils of letting dogs off leash who do not come when they are called, I decided instead to share this story with my fellow dog owners as a precautionary tale. 

Please learn the signs of potential aggression as well as the signs of a playful pup. This article provides a nice summary.

Watch your own dog's reaction too; in an unfamiliar situation, our beloved pets can change gears quickly and it's our task to take them out of any encounter that isn't going well. 

Even though we humans often enjoy the social interaction of meeting up with other dogs and their humans, it's worth remembering that these moments can quickly turn from fun to fatal. What matters to me, more than any lovely dogs we may meet along the way, is getting my dog back home, safe and sound. 

Valentines For My House

For my money, Valentine's Day comes just when we need it most

The sparkle of Christmas holidays has faded into long, bleak weeks of grey, and our senses have become dulled to the monotony of heavy coats, waterproof shoes, and rain, rain, rain. 

By mid-February, I'm definitely feeling like something has got to give.

I take my first shot at heading off these doldrums by leaving my white and shiny holiday decor in place throughout winter. A few festive touches bring my house a joie de vivre that certainly boosts my spirits and keeps me in a holiday mood. 

Even so, by Valentine's Day, I'm ready for something more

Which is why I'm a big fan of Valentine decorations. 

Doesn't take much. Just a couple pops of red and pink, a few strings of hearts added to the mix, and I feel my blood starting to pump again. No need to spend any money - past years' paper creations give me all the satisfaction I need. 

Here are a few examples of what I'm talking about: 

^ XO garland from maybe 2014, guarding the last half of the carrot cake under glass. 

Garland made from: 

+ gold spray paint on brown paper grocery bags,

+ shades of red and pink acrylic paint on printer paper

+ red and white baker's twine. 

^ Another paper garland, this time using quilled hearts, and an origami ball made by my fourth-born whose fine-motor skills are off the chart. 

Garland made from:

+ printer paper, some white and some watercolored pink

+ pink embroidery floss

Origami made from:

+ colored printer paper

^ Everyone in the family makes some sort of Valentine creation for the others, and we use this family mailbox as our card delivery system. One year, my surprise was the small wooden boxes on top, which were designed to hold a sweet candy stash.

Mailboxes made from:

+ cardboard box that our kitchen light bulbs come in, with the top flaps cut off

+ kraft paper painted in white acrylic paint for mailbox liners

+ printer paper cut with scallops and hole punched for trim
See tutorial here.

Candy boxes made from:

+ wooden trinket boxes found at Michaels

+ heart tissue paper applied with Modpodge

+ sparkles, sequins, and glitter

^ Hearts on a string blend effortlessly with some lingering Christmas baubles and look like I planned them this way all along. 

Heart garland made from:

+ printer paper, some white and some watercolored pink 

+ pink embroidery floss

+ pink pompoms 

^ And just to prove I'm not above grabbing a few things at the store, I wrapped the ends of this purchased garland around the maple tree branch / twinkle lights /paper star configuration that I rigged up for Christmas in my dining room window.

Garland made from:

+ a stroll down the Spritz aisle at Target

* * * * *

My Valentine decor is basic, for sure. Neither expensive nor elaborate, still, it's just what my spirit needs for a mid-winter pick-me-up. Giving my house a little extra love is well worth the effort, and my home sweet home will always be my Valentine. 

* * * * *

More sweet whisperings of Valentine love:

I Love You To The Moon And Back

Valentines For My House
2019 Valentines

My 2018 Handmade Valentines 

Share The Love

Valentine Inspiration
I [Heart} Valentine's Day Food
Valentines From Home
Sweet Valentine Treats
Valentine Mailbox Love
Valentine Garland Update
Valentine Mailbox Makeover Mania
2012 Handmade Valentine Love
A Valentine Message from My Heart
Valentine Postscript
Art With Kids: Learning By Heart
2013 Valentine's Day: Take Heart
Draw This: Watercolor Valentines
Valentine's Day Musings

Tulalip Tribes

Not so many years ago, Native Americans lived on the land where my house now stands. 

The Coastal Salish tribes spread up and down the Puget Sound, along the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and up into the Strait of Georgia to the north. Settling near the ever-present coast, the people thanked the land for the bountiful food that sustained them: shellfish, berries, roots and greens, and of course, the salmon. The majestic cedar tree provided housing, boats for fishing, clothing, baskets, mats, and most every other essential of daily life. The Natives lived in abundance and peace, sharing a common language called Lashootseed, living communally in longhouses, and teaching their younger generations through songs and stories. 

That life changed forever in 1855 with the Treaty of Point Elliot. The United States government laid claim to the lands around Puget Sound and backed the tribes onto reservations. Along with the presiding government dignitaries, Chief Seattle and a couple dozen other tribal leaders signed the documents with an X, and that was that. 

Point Elliot lies in the heart of Mukilteo. The treaty that robbed the Coastal Salish of their home was signed a few miles from my home. The natives who lived here in Mukilteo, the Snoqualmie Tribe, were moved to the Tulalip Reservation about twenty miles north of here, along with a handful of other local tribes. They live there to this day. 

Look, I'll be honest. I'm completely ashamed at the way my ancestors, my countrymen, treated our native people. When I first learned about treaties and reservations in grade school, I couldn't believe what I was hearing.I felt sick to my stomach to think how the United States set out to systematically obliterate the culture of these people, without ever taking the time to learn from them or even understand them. 

So when my fourth-born proposed that we pay a visit to the Tulalip Tribes' Hibulb Cultural Center, the old familiar queasiness rushed to my gut. I dreaded the stories I would encounter there, the ugly truths about my people. But after a bit more thought, I decided that the best way to show my respect to the local natives, who since time began guarded the place that would become my home, would be to learn more about them.

So. Last Friday, off we went. 

^ Sitting under the green spires of evergreens and alongside a healthy creek, the Cultural Center looks quite at home in nature. Native plants and curving walkways made me feel connected to the earth even as I walked in from the parking lot, and I felt like I was starting off on the right foot. 

^ The cedar tree is central to the Costal Salish tribes' way of life, and is well represented at the Cultural Center. For starters, much of the building's exterior is covered in gorgeous cedar planks. Just like my roof at home. 

^ The heart of the Cultural Center, just as it was in the Natives' original way of life, is the longhouse. This replica showcases the traditional construction of solid cedar. Every inch of the ceiling, walls, framing, and seating are fragrant, gorgeous, glowing cedar. I found it difficult to capture the spirit of the long house through my camera lens, especially while trying to edit out the modern-day additions of speakers, spotlights, and projectors. Even quiet and empty, the room rang with high spirits. 

^ When the U.S. government gained the upper hand over the tribes, they outlawed the long house. Existing structures on ceded lands were demolished; no new ones could be built on reservation land. Well. Correction. None were built until 1915, when a forward-thinking Native named William Shelton suggested to the US powers that perhaps the Tulalip Tribes might be allowed to build a long house in order to properly celebrate the upcoming sixty-year anniversary of the Point Elliot Treaty. He was granted permission. Clever man.

If I've got the story straight, Mr. Shelton constructed much of that first longhouse himself, and lovingly carved four cedar poles to adorn the room. The original structure is gone now, but his poles live on in the Cultural Center's longhouse and I was thrilled to see them.

^ Long boats, another key feature of Coastal Salish life and gift from the cedar tree, line the hallway that runs through the Cultural Center. I could hear the waves lapping at the side of the hull and see the fish flapping in the bottom of the vessel as the traps were emptied to be carried back to camp. 

^ We spent hours poring over the exhibits. I loved the visual displays that focused on two central elements of the tribes' pre-contact lives: the salmon and the cedar. I was also charmed by this photo of Shelton's daughter, Harriette Shelton Dover, dressed in traditional clothing and standing by one of her father's handcarved poles, looking at a 1938 copy of Life magazine featuring actress Carole Lombard on the cover. 

At the other end of the spectrum, I was disturbed to learn about how the U.S. government forced the native children into boarding schools and used that institution to break the family unit and destroy the culture. They almost succeeded. 

The actual Treaty of Point Elliot is also on display, on loan from the National Archives. Protected by a framed case and a thick layer of glass, the words of the treaty aren't legible but the signatures are. All the anger and anguish I've ever felt about the injustices to our native people came to a boiling point as I stood and examined the names of the Native leaders who made their mark in good faith, and the government officials who surely knew that they were making promises that would not be kept. To think this monstrous moment took place at my hometown beach, a place that I associate with fun and freedom and the glory of my charmed life, well, that really makes me sad. 

And mad. 

But as my daughter and I finally left the Cultural Center and walked back toward the parking lot, my mood softened. I hadn't noticed it when we arrived, but towering over my car was a massive cedar tree. Still a youngster by coastal standards, this tree is the embodiment of everything that the Tulalip Tribes, and my very own Snohomish Tribe, stood for, a proud and self-sustaining symbol of their pre-contact way of life. 

The U.S. government stripped the Natives of their land, and tried to take away their culture, their identiy, their traditions, their language, their dignity. 

But just like the mighty cedar, I'm glad to say that the Tulalip Tribes are still standing tall. 

I Love You To The Moon And Back

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, my daughters were little girls. 

Clever little girls, of course, and also artistic, creative, and playful.

That sounds like bragging, but then again I believe that all children are artistic, creative, and playful. It's only when the world drags us away from our true selves and lulls us into apathy that we lose those gifts. 

These Valentines are the product of my second-born's wild genius. When she was in middle school - probably eleven or twelve years old - she came across these photos of the moon landings and let her imagination run wild. She sewed, glued, and stickered them to her sweet satisfaction, and then gave all three to me. 

Today as I was sorting through my stash of old Valentines, I came upon these cards and looked at them with fresh eyes. I'll never part with them, these precious gifts of untamed creativity, and I'll always marvel at the magic of childhood.

* * * * *

More stories for Valentine's Day

I Love You To The Moon And Back

Valentines For My House

* * * * *

Every year, I make my own Valentines and every year, they're just a little bit different:

2019 Valentines

My 2018 Handmade Valentines 

2014 Draw This: Watercolor Valentines

2013 Valentines: Take Heart

2012 Handmade Valentine Love

Three Stories From An Afternoon At The Art Museum

1. Reading the Fine Print

When I walked into the first gallery space at the Columbus Museum of Art, I was seriously underwhelmed. 

Day by Day Good Day by Peter Dreher

To my right, I saw six small canvases painted in monochromatic tones, each one much the same as the next in its snoozing simplicity.

zip: 10.01.03...12.31.03by Yuji Agematau

And on my left, I saw three rectangles, each with five rows of narrow Lucite shelves, on which were neatly arranged small packets of what looked like junk. 

These were not the sort of objects d'art I was hoping to encounter. And I was disappointed. 

Until I read the information posted on the wall nearby.

No. 2631 (Night)

On each one of the canvases was painted a glass of water. In his studio, the artist had painted this same mostly half-full glass of water over and over, day after day, until he had painted it over five thousand times. He's been at it since 1974 and apparently still going strong.

Through this filter of discipline and practice, I now saw the beauty in the work. Whereas before the paintings had all looked more or less the same, I now could see the differences. I noticed the subtle gradations in color, the ever so slightly varying amount of water, and the range of reflection offered in each composition. What had once seemed dead now came alive for me, and I imagined the range of emotions the artist must have experienced on different days, sometimes happy to greet his glass of water, other times bored to tears, maybe even furious with himself for starting this experiment that he now couldn't' bring himself to stop.

And yes, I fell in love with the glass of water paintings.

The grey shape at the top of the image is the shadow of the packet standing on the shelf above. 

"Come read this," my daughter's voice broke through my reverie. She pointed at the information card posted on the opposite wall 

And so I stepped back across the gallery to revisit the weird little things on the Lucite shelves. 

Well. It seems that each rectangle represents a monthly calendar, the shelves defining the rows of the weeks. And each clear plastic packet - which was actually the cellophane wrapping from a package of cigarettes - contained the findings of the artist's daily walk around his New York City neighborhood. What looked like trash had became this man's treasure, and in my mind's eye, I could see our artist picking up each brightly colored bit or bob, turning it over in his probably grubby fingers, and deciding Yes! This one's a keeper.

The ingenuity and stark beauty of his display method simply blew me away. 

Grateful for the fine print that helped me understand these first two pieces and buoyed with newfound enthusiasm, I walked into the next gallery. 

The architecture of the building - part old and part new - lent excitement and drama to my visit.

2. Don't Make Me Choose

As we wandered through the heart of the contemporary art collection, my eye was delightfully entertained. 

An exhibit of pieces from the Vietnam War era

A room full of soaring portraits

Each space edited with a firm aesthetic and playful touch. 

I took a million photos and sat for long stretches on the thoughtfully positioned benches, contemplating just what it was that made me love each work of art. And I played the game that I often use to amuse myself in art museums, I decided to choose my favorite piece. 

Near the back of the penultimate room, I came across this piece and in a heartbeat, declared it my favorite.

I'm still looking for the name of this piece and her creator. She's awful cute.

Vivid color,  sharp geometric shape, three-dimensionality - this little baby made my heart sing the moment I laid eyes on it. Surely nothing could top this. She was definitely my favorite. 

But just when I thought my choice was certain, I turned around and stumbled into this. 

Topographic Landscape by Maya Lin

Filling half the room, this rollicking ocean of fiberboard waves was inspired by the rolling Ohio landscape where the artist grew up. It's a huge piece, and I walked round and round it, mesmerized by the fresh perspective I gained with each step. 

Perfect in every way. 

And completely different from my other favorite.

Well. I sat down in a spot where I could look at both, and I stewed over this quandary for quite some time. 

And in the end, I decided that my game was silly. There's no need to pick a favorite after all. 

We were very happy to be inside with the art and not out there in the raindrops and blustery wind.

3. Hat Trick

I'd been wandering for hours, soaking up the beautiful intensity of the art, and now I were nearly wrung out of emotion and energy. Just one room at the end of the wing to go, and then it was time for a snack. Expecting to find just a few quiet pieces to wrap up what had already been a splendid tour, my daughter and I dutifully stepped into the last gallery space. 

And we were blown away. 

Freefall II by Antony Gormley

Imagine a giant bundle of shiny looping wire suspended from the ceiling. Looks pretty cool. Now notice that the entire contraption is slowly rotating, and as the angles change, suddenly a human form materializes. And get this - the person is upside down, apparently trapped in the midst of the wiry trap. And if that isn't wild enough, he is greeting us with a wave. 

La Vecchia Dell'Orto by Frank Stella

Now envision, if you dare, a giant confabulation of magnesium, aluminum, canvas, and fiberglass. A riot of colors splash across the surfaces of crazy geometric cut-outs, sometimes applies with robotic precision, other times apparently straight from the spray can of a harried graffiti artist. The separate elements seem to be tossed together willy-nilly, overlapping here, gapping there. There seems to be mostly chaos and very little order in this three-dimensional montage of wild. And the piece is huge - almost 14 x 16 feet. But if you sit down in the red chairs positioned right in front of this invention, it will eventually begin to purr like a kitten and calm you. It may even put you right to sleep. 

The side view of the Stella and a glimpse the upside down man. 


Marias by Deborah Butterfield

Look, this one seems easy. It's a horse made out of driftwood. Granted, she has a crazy long neck and the legs are a little slim but this one seems pretty straightforward. Until you go up and read that card on the wall that says "cast bronze." What? No. That can't be right. I can see with my own two eyes that it's driftwood. And then a docent floats by and you hear her explain that the piece was originally crafted from driftwood, but then a mold was made and yes, filled with bronze in some crazy complicated process that bronzing requires. So the finished effect looks like driftwood, but is actually bronze. How amazing is that?

And then the same docent explained that back in the day, not too many years ago, before dear Marias was cordoned off, children used to flock to her and run in happy circles in and out underneath her and between her legs. How I wish I could have seen that. 

We stayed in this magical place for a long, long time.  Other patrons came and went as my daughter and I sat on the red couch and drank in the rarefied air of this trio. 

Then we went to the cafe and I ate the biggest club sandwich I have ever seen. What a perfect way to wrap up our afternoon at the art museum.