Little Coffee Beans

now and then

 

My girl, Fall 2012

 

And just a day old, Spring 2010

Joining my dear friend Jules.

 

{this moment} four years ago

{this moment} four years ago

 

Playing along with SouleMama 

 

special delivery

Steve's birthday was a few weeks ago, but his present just showed up over the weekend. In trying to answer the question of what to get the man who doesn't need or want anything, I found myself daydreaming of our favorite Pacific island, Maui. I was swept away - in daydream - by the smells, sounds and sights of the ocean and lush forests when it came it me: Lilikoi. What if I could find our favorite Maui treat and have it sent here?

Don't you love the internet? Within a few minutes of searching on-line I found an exotic fruit exporter (these are from Florida, I think) selling passion fruit (aka lilikoi). Special delivery - one case please. 

Zinnia was as excited as Dada as he opened the box. Her high pitched squeals were followed by a mouth watering grin as she exclaimed, "Li-li-oy!" It's been four months since her last bite of lilikoi, yet she still remembers. 

For the last two days we've smelled of Maui. I catch a hint of the sweetness as I nestle in Zinnia's neck or hug Steve. I smell the scent on my fingers as I brush my hair from my face. That sweet, tangy, intoxicating smell of jungle fruit lingers. If only we could take a deep breath of damp, salty air, too, the daydream might just seem real.

If you need me today you may want to snap your fingers, talk loudly or let the phone ring several times to snap me out of the daydream.

This is where I'll be ::

Happy Monday friends.

a little trip

It's been more than a month since we returned from Maui. Our tans are fading and I'm feeling a little nostalgic about our second "home", way out there in the Pacific ocean. Last night I was looking through some old photos and videos and felt drawn to share with you one of my favorite places on earth.

This beach is a 15 minute hike through the jungle, just below our house-swap house. When I feel stressed or anxious this is one of the spots that I conjure up. The video doesn't capture the awesomeness - the sound of the water receding through the rocks is a full body sensory experience. It's hard to articulate that, but it is pure magic.

Here's a glimpse ::

I hope you enjoy this little one minute trip to Maui.

Breathe it in.

daydream

Today my thoughts are deep in daydream land.

Back to reality tomorrow. Maybe.

Future Agrarians of America

Signing "Bird", up in the tree.

It's in her genes, you know ~ her love of chard, mud and all things gardening.

Here's Dada circa 1975 at roughly her same age.

photo credit ~ Grandpa A.

She snacks her way around the garden saying, "Mmmmm" as we pick our daily greens.

She comes from a long line of farmers, this flower.  All the branches of the family tree are full of soil tenders, flower planters, corn harvesters, bird watchers, weed worshipers, master gardeners and lovers of all things that sprout from the earth. 

 

Flashback :: June of 1994

Today is an anniversary for me ~ It's been 17 years since I packed up and left Georgia, one month before my 20^th birthday. I was eager to get out of the south - I wanted the great wide open. I wanted it NOW.

I was naive. I was brave. I may have been a little scared.

My 1975 pink VW Beetle was the getaway car. 

(Image taken from my teenage scrapbook - July 1990 - this car was my 16^th birthday present from my dad)

My dad (and mechanic) told me my car would "never make it," as he attached a tow bar to the front axle. "Just in case you need a lift," he mumbled.  That was his way of saying please, don't leave. I had faith in my bug. And in my myself. Though there were a few stops along the way when my car inexplicably stopped running. I'd stand on the side of the road and throw rocks into the fields until she rested and was ready to turn over again. And she always did.  I  loved that bug.

My mom cried that morning as I stuffed the last bag into the hood of my bug. It was early. So early that it was still dark outside. It was unusual for me to be up that early, in those days. Mom knew I'd make it, but her tears pleaded, please, don't leave.  She quietly wrung her hands and chewed her cheek as the screen door slammed behind me. "I'll call you from the road," I shouted from the car window. 

The bug's headlights cut through summer's morning fog as I pulled out of the driveway. I had a roll of dimes and $500 in traveler's checks in my pocket and I was outta there. 

I called mom from pay phones along the way, just as I'd promised.

(Photo taken by Mom during her first visit to Colorado - November 1994)

I made it to Colorado in three days. Or was it four? My bug made the 1,412 mile trip, just fine. Fortunately, I never needed that lift. 

In three years I'll have been here half.my.life which feels like an incredibly long time, when I say it out loud. When people ask me where I'm from I tend to pause before answering. I've always considered myself a Southern girl who fell in love with the Rockies, but that doesn't quite answer the question, now does it?

I guess what I've come to is this:  I was raised in Georgia, but I grew up in Colorado. Half there. Half here.

Half and half makes the whole.

A Rocky Mountain Peach.