The Object of Desire
Passing by this high-end Culinary store “Williams-Sonoma” in Vancouver with my husband and son, I stopped in mid stride to stare at this masterpiece of a cooking range.
Slight palpitation and I think my breathing stopped.
My son said what do you think it costs?
I said, Oh it’s got to be $10,000 , I said when I came to. I mean really. Who would pay more? It’s an oven. And $10,000 is a lot of money.
Lets go in and see, he said.
We were approached by the store assistant and I asked about the oven in the window.
Ah the La Cornu Stove, He smiled, Yes that model is $47,000.
Then he continued to tell me that the company started in 1908 and that each oven is hand crafted and made to order in France, shipped and professionally installed. In what would not be a modest rancher.
Well, I guess that justifies it.
I bet it makes a first class Mac and Cheese.
Exquisite solitude of a foggy beach front. Alone in these moments where the plunge into deep self reflection comes easily. Insights are teased out of the congestion of a run ragged life. These moments when we meet ourselves again and remember who we are, and the dreams we once dreamed.
And then there is the solitude from the perspective of a seagull while digesting a large starfish. Very lonely time for him. Cant fly, paddle in the water, nor interact with his cohorts. Must sit alone. Digesting.
I’m sure we all would love to have a rainbow sprouting from ones home. It seems I do. Bragging aside, I think I do live purrty dern close to what could be divined as paradise. (Funny I meant to type described but due to a Freudian finger slip typed Divined.) I think I’ll leave it.
I love this hallowed, hollow corridor that leads from my docks to the road home. Especially in the fall. City crowds trail off far behind in the bay and tensions release when my feet have carried me up the steep hill to here.
Unless I’m carrying 4 bags of groceries, then I’m sweating and breathing hard and a muffled curse could be murmured followed by something like must be nice to drive right up to your door.
That would be my boat waaay out on the end of the dock on the right.
When I’ve gathered myself and regathered my grocery bags (and after the blood has returned to my fingers) I am at once removed from the masses behind me and am embraced by this little divine paradise of a community I’ve called home for 24 years.
My arms are definitely two inches longer since.
Better late than never, having missed the first couple of days of Blog U Photography 101- Just me bringing up the rear. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to post regarding this particular theme about Water. It has quite frankly been my life in every way.
Born in Southern California I not only spent most of my free childhood time at Huntington Beach, we also had a pool in our backyard where at 5 years old I first became a fish. Never swimming on top of the water- always under.
When I was 14 my family moved to British Columbia, our first house was a modest home right on the waterfront. My aunt gave me a row boat to use in the bay and I did any chance I could. I would row out as far as I could and sit and think.
Today I’m living on a small island surrounded by water, married to a man who’s passion is sailing (and being a Cancer makes him a “water sign”)- we bought a 30 foot sailboat a year after we married and have her still – and each other- 24 years later.
And each day when I go and return from work I take my boat 1.5 km across the water, winter and summer, storm, fog or clear and calm.