musings on the little things

this is what i see if i turn my head to the left and take a glance sideways to my front door:  a simple but effective sturdy old screen door that opens out to a narrow porch.  every morning, the sun spills across the wooden floor boards, if it isn't foggy or overcast or raining, and do a little dance if the breeze is blowing, or if the resident wren happens to be jumping about in the branches (or, on my wind chimes, and if that is the case, i'll hear her presence with an instant tinkling of the glass).  it is a pleasant sight, and wonderful thing, this screen door, that lets in the sounds of the katydids and birds, the breezes, the sun.  aspen flakes out there in these insufferable dog days of late summer, where the entrance tiles are cool and he can snooze until he sees me wander into the studio - and then he follows me and plops down in the one remaining square empty spot of floor space so that i'll have to step over him, bless his aging heart, every single time i have to get up and down.   that studio, thankfully, is the coolest spot in the house, which makes for leisurely productivity these august days; i can sit with a tall sweating glass of iced lemonade at the table, the rotating fan's breeze hitting me every few seconds, and ponder over a necklace design without wanting to leave that little room for the bulk of the day.  thank goodness it isn't in an attic space, where my past two studios were tucked away.

i found this lovely poplar leaf (click for closer detail) while walking aspen out back yesterday, and was touched by the tiniest amounts of green still left there surrounding the dark spots near its center.  the yellows have overtaken the bulk of its body, and traces of brown lace along the veins.  it is a thing of truest beauty, but one that saddens me in a bittersweet way:  here comes fall, right smack dab in the middle of august.  i love autumn - love the changes of the seasons, and they are so very magnificent here in the mountains - but i want to be able to extract the fullest amount of sensation that i possibly can from each and every day, and season, before they begin to fade into the next.  where has the time gone?!  it has looped, i tell you, and twisted itself, and blown this way and that, and through me and around me and way up over the mountains into whatever's coming next. 

lately, i feel that i write about nothing.  that i tell you about my quiet days here on firefly road, where i pick up leaves at my feet and beetles on the screen, or toads at the foot of roy's door, and prattle on in so many words and photographs that may or may not matter to anyone but myself.  many of you have written me to say that you've begun to stop and look at the moments surrounding you - the quiet things, the details of life - with a different eye, now that you've begun reading Ornamental.  i can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment with that, then - that if anything, i've taught a few of you to not take the little things around you for granted.  they aren't little, or insignificant.  they are what make our life what it is.  i always remember a story from a time in my life, just after i had graduated from college, in my early 20's.  i had moved back to my parents' house, and with an english degree, had no idea where i wanted to go with a career - so at the time, i was working, of all places, in a hospital laboratory as a lab clerk, from 3-11pm.  i grimace as i write this, for i was the poster picture of utter misery.  but - one of the med techs was attempting to get her pilot's license, and invited a couple of us to join her one early, early morning  at sunrise to fly, in a cub plane, over to calloway gardens for breakfast before returning for work at 3.  when walking out to the plane, we were crossing some gravel, wet with morning dew, and i commented on how lovely the wet gravel sounded crunching under my feet.  this woman, the aspiring pilot, turned to me, and with a sneer on her face, stated that i seemed to find pleasure in the most ridiculous things.  i've not ever forgotten that comment, yet can not tell you what the ride over in that ridiculous small plane was like.  i took it as a great compliment, this statement that i knew she meant as a piercing insult.

i don't know why this passage from alice sebold's incredible novel The Lovely Bones comes to mind, so long after my having read and finished it on a nearly empty plane high above the earth and clouds on september 11, the year after the horrors that happened in new york; but the words did come to mind, and here they are.  now, go out there and smell the air and touch the leaves and trees and please come back and tell me how it made you feel.

"So there are cakes and pillows and colors galore, but underneath this more obvious patchwork quilt are places like a quiet room where you can go and hold someone's hand and not have to say anything.  Give no story. Make no claim.  Where you can live at the edge of your skin for as long as you wish.  This wide wide Heaven is about flathead nails and the soft down of new leaves, wild roller coaster rides and escaped marbles that fall then hang then take you somewhere you could never have imagined in your small-heaven dreams."

i write this post today in the honor and memory of charlie mayer, who would have turned 23 this month. xo 

Comments

[suz]

i have visited your site often - i stumbled upon misty's which led me to yours. both sites are such inspiration...i write this as i listen to the rain fall gently, day is disappearing into dusk, the clatter of beach-goers quiets now...italy has become home - even though much of life over here still takes getting used to and figuring out. it's in these moments...that i truly understand what home means...it's not a place - but more a peace of mind. i so enjoy your beautiful artworks and writings, nina. thank you for sharing. :)

[marita]

such a lovely post nina! peaceful pictures of a silent corner and the beauty of nature's gift.
i love the written words at the end from 'the lovely bones'...
it felt good outside...

[Misty]

one of the many things that makes me feel so close to you, is that you see these things, these amazing little things, and you take them in, just as i do, and hold them tight to your heart. thank you for being how you are.

...and another books to put on my pile.
I am off to touch the leaves, admire the rays of summer sunlight filtering through the trees, and take a drive through the freshly rain covered mountains. love you. xo

[Sue]

OMG Nina, what beautiful pictures you paint with your words!!

Folks who don't stop to appreciate the small things truly don't know what they are missing....here's to shower bubbles and cool evening grass on bare toes! I'm sipping a glass of wine, it's early evening here in England it's been a beautiful sunny day and i have four whole days off work - yay!
Cheers Nina, have a wonderful weekend. x

[Sharon at Norah'S]

You give color and texture and I feel as though I actually touched it.
Thank you

[Lori]

It is so important to slow down, to take time to notice the color and texture and shape of things, to see the calm beneath the activity and the activity beneath the calm. So many people plod through life, skimming the surface of everything without really taking in their surroundings, not feeling the breeze on their skin or really tasting the tart or the sweet of the lemonade.

[kim]

beautiful post that brought tears to my eyes....xoxo~kim

[Jennifer C]

I've sort of been a lurker for a long time here but wanted to say thank you for your wisdom, depth, strength, and honesty. I love coming to your site every day, new posts or not, its still wonderful! What a gift you give all of us who are blessed enough to see you here. I count myself among them ;) I see you, too, enjoyed "the lovely bones," what a fantastic read! xox

[Jess]

You definitely have helped me slow down and look around in my life. I find it very hard to slow down since I am always doing more than possible. It is hard to find time to sit and drink tea or notice the little things, but your posts always remind me of why I should make the time and the benefits that will come my way if I do.
Thank you!
Jess

[kateri]

Nina... I have never read the book The Lovely Bones, but now I must. There are several sentences, (seems like such a dull thing to call them sentences!)that I have lived in my heart. And maybe even in real life. Or is the heart real life afterall? (I like to think it is)

oh....

"places like a quiet room where you can go and hold someone's hand and not have to say anything. Give no story. Make no claim. Where you can live at the edge of your skin for as long as you wish."

Oh such places. Why does even thinking about that place make me shiver to my toes with bliss and yet ache for it at the same time...

I've felt a little lonely last night and today...and so maybe the ache is right there.
I must read this book.

Thank you :-)

[Adrienne Berry]

I love that you write about these things, that every day as I sit at my boring office, I get to escape to the mountains for a little jaunt. I've been inspired by both you and Misty to look at all the things around me. I leave for the Outer Banks this weekend and can't wait because this year, I know all the familiar things will speak differently to me this year as I look at them with a different eye. Thank you!

[Lesley]

Your lovely post reminded me to tell you that until 2 nights ago, I had spent all summer not walking barefoot in the grass as Lea told us to do on our NZ journey. It felt amazing, letting the power of the earth ooze up through my feet and into my heart. What a shame I had forgotten. Do you remember?

[Kate]

Nina,

I have a dog who follows me around and then plops where he can. sometimes I feel bad moving around and want him to just stay, since I will be right back.
I love what you post about, it helps me reflect on my own life. I have been spending time at our local river this summer. The Snake meanders throughout Idaho and we have beautiful places along it to sit and ponder life. Your writing always reminds me to take time and notice it all again. Many thanks,

Kate

[Mim Stella]

Your posts really do mean alot to people. They are lovely and soothing in a way. Please keep blogging - I find that most people don't leave messages, perhaps they are embarrassed to just say "hello, like your blog" - so..."Hello there - I really like your blog!"

[Leau]

Dear Nina, I always feel like saying "Ahhhhh" after I ready your posts. They comfort my soul and calm my mind. Soothing, delightful, and thought provoking. Thanks. (heart) leau

[Mary]

I, too, love the quietness of your blog. I know it always reminds me to stop and look around a bit more. Life is all about the details sometimes. And your jewelry is just so lovely! It is amazing how each piece you make is so like your writings. You bring whole stories to life with silver and stone. What a blessing, what a gift.

[shirleymcc]

Oh, The Lovely Bones - how I loved that book - it was sort of like reading "Our Town" but for a dear departed girl. What a poignant post - a reminder that life is so much sweeter when we stop just for a moment to soak it all in.

[Leslie]

Thank you for reminding me.

[ro bruhn]

Thanks Nina, our lives are so hectic, it's nice to be reminded occasionally to stop and smell the roses along the way.
Ro
xo

[Nita]

Simple but profound. I read the book Lovely Bones a couple of years ago, it is hauntingly realistic. I find profound pleasure in the simplest acts performed daily. The sight of a dragonfly landing to drink water on a freshly sprayed leaf in the garden. Finding crow tracks set in mud dried by the sun. That is my little piece of heaven. Nita

[Jo Stables]

I have been rushing around all morning with opening the shop, netball and getting Samara to work and back, picking kids up from parties. Then finally, I gratefully sink in to my desk chair and read your post, perfect timing as usual. I stepped outside and the sun is shining brilliantly after days of rain. The air is cool, but the sun is warm on my back, the birds are flitting around with renewed energy, a touch of early spring fever maybe.
Thankyou sweetest Nina, for making me stop, and breathe in all that is truly good around me. You have made me appreciate how fantastic my life really is!
Love you,
Jo xoxox

[Jacquelene]

I love your blog. It is soothing and comforting and it eases the frazzles away. I live in a huge city in an apartment. Your writing gives me beauty and nature and peacefulness when I need it most. Your jewellery is absolutely beautiful works of art.

Thank you for your blog, exactly the way it is.
Jacquelene L.
Toronto, Canada

[Jen Crossley]

Your blog is amazing Nina,,Not only do you inspire me with your art work but also in your words a rare gift in this busy world
Jen Crossley

[Star]

I so enjoy coming here to read about the things that have meaning in your life. Momentous occasions have their place, but the small joys to be found in each day are the things that sustain us.

Thank you for drawing our attention to the beauty that surrounds us no matter where we are.

[annie]

love you...xo

[cheryl doran-girard]

Nina--
I drop in daily to read your lovely and loving thoughts. It is so easy to get away from the appreciation of the small things (that really are the "big" things) in the crush of everyday's worklife, errands and chaos. Thank you for taking the time to post and remind us all that there is more.

[dDENISE]

Very nice, it reminded me of one night when I was about 27 years old and I was walking my little 5 year old neighbor boy home. My girlfriend and I each had one of his hands, as we were waliking across the street that night, he suddenly pulled on both our hands and said "STOP" " look at the moon". We all stopped and did what he said. Then after a little while he said "now we can go". Then he said. "didn't that just make you smile" And we did agree that it was a beautiful moon and it did make us smile.
I always remeber to look at the moon now, and all the things under the moon.

[kelly rae roberts]

i am loving how you have inspired so many people (including me) to take a deeper look, to stay a little longer, to soak in the meaning a bit more, to just be in the given moment with quiet and gratitude and knowing. thank you for getting it, nina. like your creations, you are soulful, unique, and beautifully detailed in thought. love that photo of you looking out into the wonders. xo

[Fledgling Poet]

Your blog is like unwrapping a wonderful and unexpected gift...pure delight. Thank you!

[Denise]

Thank you Nina.

I have sat here quietly and read and looked and enjoyed the words you write and the pictures you post for the weeks that have gone bye since I wrote you before my knee replacement surgery in May.
Slowly I am returning to life. The fear that gripped me for months giving way to gratitude for a good outcome and healing.

I came home after 2+ weeks and my first visits were short. I didn't have the energy to even read your entire post. My visits have become longer and now I feel have been part of my healing. So I want thank you.
This has been a long & very difficult journey for me on many levels. You have helped me reconnect to so much of what I value & many of the things that I forgot bring me joy...the catbird who brings a smile trying to covince me he really is a cat just before sunrise, the light as it reflects on the crystals I hung to see rainbows at 7am all through each room and more then I can express now. But I want you to know how much you mean to me and I'm sure many others.
Denise

[wendy from NZ]

If the sight of the blue skies fill you with joy, if a blade of grass springing up in the fields has power to move you, if the simple things of nature have a message that you understand, rejoice for your soul is alive......

[lucinda]

your new title, the droplets on mothwings, is delightful. i enjoy your blog almost daily, thankyou for all the time, thought and beauty that you put into it.

[Vickie]

Amen, Amen!

[carol]

what a beautiful post! every time i read your posts, I can't help but imagine them as a collected work - a book of musings and wisdom and observations. your style is so comfortable and conversational - kind of lulls the reader into a place far removed from work or finances or whatever is troubling to them.

[Connie Govea Stuart]

THAT BOOK IS WHAT DID IT FOR ME nINA..
CREATED BY YOU--IT HAD
SO MUCH INSPIRATION,
AND KICK-STARTED MY LOVE
FOR ALTERED ART..
TAKE CARE! XO