JEWELRY
at plans and schedules and to-do lists
because life has its own big ideas and when
it comes right down to it
you might just have to stop everything
and lay on the couch for a few days
and if you’re going to do that
you might as well do it
with a smile on your face
.
wishing you a monday filled with smiles
.
focus shifting
back and forth
between what’s right in front of me
and what lies ahead
.
it’s all beautiful
.
we find balance
not too bright
nor too dark
color versus grey
light versus dark
life’s palette
mixing hue and hope
in equal measure
A flock of blackbirds this morning, filling the air with squawk and song. A lovely morning, sunny and not too chilly, making me wish I could spend the day in the garden.
I am still struggling with not feeling well, and finding it frustrating. We take our health for granted so easily. A lesson learned and forgotten and learned again. Back to the doctor I go today, for more puzzling, poking, and pondering.
But just now, I am grateful for the sunshine, these birds, this life.
These leaves that keep hanging on.
Making me look up, outside of myself, at that big expanse of sky.
The trees whisper their tale of letting go, holding on, letting go.
Time passes through bare branches
and I listen.
This past weekend, we went to the Adirondack mountains for our annual family trip. There was lots of reading and relaxing, hiking and golfing, sitting and fishing.
My father went along with us, and even though the fish weren’t biting, he spent quite a few hours waiting for a nibble. I went down to the shore with him a few times, and felt myself returning to my childhood, when often, I would go along with my dad. Sometimes I would fish, sometimes I would read, and sometimes I would do both things at once.
I was never all that into the fishing itself, but it was always great to sit outside, read a book, spend some time with him. And this weekend was no different. He fished, I read, wrote, soaked up some sun (the weather we had was just glorious). The forty or so years in between then and now dropped away and it was just the two of us sitting there, mostly silent, watching, waiting, reflecting.
At one point, he totally cracked me up by saying, “Hey, Kelly, I’ve been meaning to ask you…. do you want to go ice fishing?” A reference to the time when I was maybe 8 or 10 and went with him and my two brothers… (another day when no fish were caught) and for some reason my older brother thought it would be funny to fill in our holes with chunks of ice before we left. By the time we had packed up and started for the car, you couldn’t really see where the holes were, or at least I couldn’t, and promptly fell in one… fortunately one leg only, and fortunately my dad reacted quickly and grabbed me right back out as quickly as I went in.
But, oh my, was I cold. We laugh about it now, but I remember being so mad at my brother that day. We had to stop at my grandmother’s house because she was much closer than home, and I had to get out of my freezing wet clothes and be outfitted in oversized adult apparel. My brother, who was always teasing me anyway, kept insisting that it was my own fault, taunting me for literally falling for it. I was furious.
Oh well, I’m sure that helped me warm back up anyway.
And now I have yet another fishing memory to add to all the others, this one quiet and uneventful, but quite special just the same.
Sunshine and nostalgia and the one that got away.
We caught up with each other, and that was trophy enough.
As of today, my husband and I have walked the same path for 18 years. We’ve gone through the childhood of our relationship, those awkward middle years, the teens.
Together we’ve run through open meadows, plodded through dark forests, meandered along the well-worn path of daily existence.
Most often he is slightly ahead of me, not because he’s leaving me behind, but because I am the daydreamer, always stopping along the way to smell a flower, take a picture, dream a little, and he is the more practical one, walking to get from point A to point B. But if I get too far behind, he waits for me to catch up.
Other times, we walk hand in hand, slowing down a little, taking it all in, together.
He’s into sports and I am an artist, and of course, we are both many things in between. It may seem an unlikely combination, but it works for us, his golf is his art, my art is my sport, and there is room on this path for both of us.
There are picnics and campfires, storms and sunny days, seasons that change and stay the same. Blisters from too much walking, silence after too much talking, and moments when no words are necessary.
He’s always there, on my horizon. We watch the sun set, the moon rise, the sky fill with stars.
In the darkest hours of night I listen to him breathe.
Coyotes call, and in our sleep, we both smile.
Toes touching.
.
Happy Anniversary, Mr. M
A favorite flower for a a quiet Friday, these monkshood are just beginning to bloom, a last-minute flower creeping open just before the deadline. And that is probably why I love them so much, being a deadline girl myself.
They sit just outside my studio window, with a spectacular cacophony of fall color as their backdrop.
I am reminding myself to look up often, absorb some of this color before winter dons her old grey coat.
I am also ignoring the messy part of my garden, focusing on the good parts, the summer flowers still hanging on, these few autumn varieties just beginning their show.
Raindrops and silence this morning. Grey sky, warm tea, still air.
The only sound comes from autumn’s spectrum.
A gorgeous melody, indeed.
.
Wishing you a weekend filled with color.
It’s time to start putting the garden to bed. Time to think about breaking out the winter clothes, packing up the sundresses and shorts. Time to think about pulling out the autumn decorations.
There will be two jewelry shows in November, and from there, time will fill in the rest as it zooms toward this year’s finish line.
And so, I must steal moments from October, both to prepare and to revel. Simple moments. Paying attention to things I shouldn’t miss. A leaf spinning down to earth in the grand dance of release. Monkshood outside my studio window, finally in bloom. A trip to the mountains filled with orange and brown and russet against a sky of blue. (at least I hope it will be blue.)
And in between those moments, chores. Painting to be finished. A new chair cover to sew. Windows to wash and outdoor furniture to put away.
Life, life, life… laid out in tiny squares on a calendar.
Each moment is precious, even those spent doing what needs to be done.
Reminding myself to whistle while I work. Or at the very least, sing.
Look up, look out, stand still and breathe it all in.
Listen.
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