some of you may remember these little fluttery layered pieces of silver sheet and mica from yesterday; some may not. it doesn't matter. what matters to me is that today i'm packing up some of these to send on their way, and before i separated them from a collection, i thought i'd take them out into the sunlight and hang them like icicles on the bare dogwood tree; only, once they were hung and fluttering and twinkling with the sunlight and the breeze, i was reminded more, than icicles, of prayers tied to trees in the eastern hemisphere. seeing them suspended there, just beyond my side porch, flashing their simple words of "nest", "home", "bird", they seemed to me to be tiny little sacramental prayers for the tree, tiny messages to the universe that the bare branches will wait through the starkness of winter for new life to come to its reaching arms again. and that made me smile, it really did, because the very notion of a tree having feelings and emotions seemed a real one to me indeed.
these little sacrements - cloud and song - will be winging their way this afternoon out to the west coast, to seattle, where clouds come in so many different sizes and shapes, so many different colors. i like that they will be worn where they'll be understood, where folks completely know the rain and the grey and the damp quiet of darkened fall and winter. i came to the computer just now to look up the new owner's address, and was pleasantly surprised to find a letter from her explaining just how keenly connected she feels to the earrings' purpose and design. her words mean the world to me right now, and i thought i'd share them with all of you, after checking with her to make sure that was alright: