Wuthering Heights

comments: 86

































When the rain came, we were at the top of the butte, sitting in the burnt grass. The purple clouds had stacked up and marched across the sky. I'd talked her out of wearing two tutus at the same time and jabbing at things with the enormous umbrella. At the top of the hill, there I feel free. I would rather be on top of the hill than almost anywhere, everywhere. At home, down the hill, our houses pile up on each other, with fences and hedges and trees and houses and wires and houses and trees so close they block half the sky. On the hill, she runs, stretching her legs, twirling her skirts, chasing seed angels. He blows them out of their pods for her, and I wonder what flowers will bloom next year from this moment. My heart swells with joy. It's good to sit down and rest. I look out over the brown flowers, the dry ponds. The meadow is lovely in its withering. The sky is hyperactive, changing by the minute, the clouds moving so fast I hardly dare look away lest I miss something. They're different, too, in every direction: This way, they're lighted cotton balls; that way, they're whooshes; over there, it's a solid curtain of gray. Far off to the west the sage-blue hills are covered in ever-more-opaque veils of gray; you can see that it's already raining there, and raining farther back, as well. I've forgotten this color scheme: violet/lighter violet/more violet. I turn my face to the sky in gratitude and relief. This saturated air is pure nutrition. When the drops finally start falling, my skin absorbs each one in an instant. I hardly feel them at all I'm so deficient. Rain. Real rain. There's a sudden scramble involving crying, shoulder sitting, a too-big umbrella someone insists on holding, and then more rain, so it's into the stroller, legs tucked up under the hood, more crying, some juice, then quiet. Quiet. Walking. The umbrella, closed, hangs from the push-bar. There is just rain and wind and the lovely crunch of wet gravel. I imagine what the rain sounds like from inside the hooded stroller, her rolling personal tent. Andy and I have stupid-big grins. We push and walk, getting soaked, in perfect happiness. Home, and dumplings for dinner. There are some days you wish would last forever. Powell Butte, Saturday, September 5, 2015. That was one.


I know this feeling. We had an old cedar tree at our beach house which we nicknamed Wuthering Heights. Come to think of it, Withering Heights would have been better. Your words and images present a beautiful picture. Yes, there are some days we wish could last forever, but how nice it is to have so many of them. Thank you for a lovely post.

....your blog makes me miss Oregon so much!

Your stories always makes my heart happy... and those photos, OH MY.

Powell Butte is a wonderful place to visit and you have captured your time there perfectly, visually through your photos, and poetically through your narrative, Alicia. Thanks for posting. I am so hungry for rain and I can't believe I am typing that here in Boring, Oregon, where I have sometimes worried that the rain would never end and our ponds might flood. Some of my friends and family in other parts of the world assume that it rains all the time in the Pacific Northwest :) I was finally able to post a photo of Mt. Hood where it is not shrouded in smoke or clouds, but it is ready for a fresh new coat of snow. I am relishing this transitional time from summer to autumn! Happy Weekend :) xx

Perfect and very very special. And I know what you mean about the feeling at the top of a hill, you feel you can stretch and stretch and still have space, such a wonderful feeling 😀

What fun to read about this day on top of the world with the weather putting on a big show! Love the joy on Mimi's face as she sees the seed helicopters go flying! We are facing another brilliant sunny day.. I never thought I'd miss the rain.. but I do. It will come. ((hugs)), Teresa :-)

karla caldwell says: September 12, 2015 at 11:21 AM

a beautiful and elegant post~
here in northern california it is white-hot, still, and oppressive, and the air is charged in a very negative way.
your words and pictures stir a deep longing...here, too, it will rain.
someday soon.
and then, we too, will stand out of doors to be refreshed and replenished and thankful.

So beautifully put, thank you.

I love this blog!

Oh my, such gorgeous photos! Your little
one is just soooooooo cute!...you are teasing us with
a glimpse of the crocheted child's poncho in one of
the photos (beautiful!)...hope you will share it with us
soon in all of its glory!
Thank you for sharing your beautiful life!

nancy schofield says: September 12, 2015 at 12:36 PM

Lovely words, beautiful pictures. seed fairy pictures. . .priceless!

Belle petite poupée..

Rosebud lips..flaxen hair..flowers in her pigtails..

Oh the bliss of rain on parched earth, wonderful. You've captured it beautifully Alicia. Before you know it the grass will be as green as can be again. CJ xx

Aww! Everything! the hill, the outfit, the poncho, the story.

Absolutely beautiful writing....

I've only been a reader for about a year, and I was firmly sucked into your beautiful craft, photos, but to be honest, what keeps me really enthusiastically reading is your sweet girl's face and stories. She's such a darling!!

A beautiful essay. I loved every word. Flowers tucked into the hair ties made me smile.

All so beautiful. Thank you.

Sometimes I struggle to understand your love of gray and clouds, but today, wow. I feel really close. This was utterly beautiful.

So very beautiful, my heart is transported through those photos into the summer gold-brown, into the rain.

Your little lovey reminds me of a Carl Larsson painting. So beautiful!

Dear Mrs P,

I love the way you write. I know there's little time in your life right now, but one day I hope you have time and space to sit down and write, because I can't wait to turn the first page of your first novel.

Fran x

What a day! One that will last forever in your photos and in your heart. Love.

The combination of your photos and your musings...I could practically smell the rain hitting the ground and the sound of raindrops hitting the cloth on that umbrella. How cool to be perched atop of a hill with clouds like that. Blissfulness :) And...her outfit is so darn cute!! I love the boots & tutu(s)/ruffles and the calico prairie dress on top of it all! These are really, really cute pictures! And then there is the serious poncho one :). Good stuff!

Beautiful! Some of the images remind me of paintings from Andrew Wyeth. Your writing as usual takes us on your trip with you :)

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About Alicia Paulson


My name is Alicia Paulson
and I love to make things. I live with my husband and daughter in Portland, Oregon, and design sewing, embroidery, knitting, and crochet patterns. See more about me at aliciapaulson.com




Since August of 2011 I've been using a Canon EOS 60D with an EF 18-200mm kit lens and an EF 100mm f/2.8 Macro lens.