i'm always surprised at the variation in colors of the very same thing - jewelry, in this case - that i struggle to capture with waning light. i wait until the end of the day, usually, because no. 1, that's usually when i finish a piece, and no. 2, the light is kinder towards the early side of dusk. roy calls it the magic hour - roy, who as i write this is working a television camera for the tv station that employs him in wilmington, north carolina. there is a hurricane barreling straight towards that city, as if any of you weren't aware. the mother in me worries - does he have plenty of water? batteries? but he brushes the worries off with his young adult cool. i'll be fine, mom. i love you. so, i busy myself taking photo after photo of the same piece of jewelry, this angle and that, a brighter exposure than the last, a different place in the house. nothing matters; the colors shift with every change. and i worry. i worry. i worry.
it didn't even occur to me until just now that the piece i'd been working on all day speaks of matters of the heart. no surprise there - most of my jewelry does. but heart strings? today? makes total sense to me. damn it. blurry, and at this point, the light's too far gone. you get the idea: antique embroidered sari fabric behind antique optical glass, peruvian opals strung with luscious garnet, the color of love. at least for today, it is. and on the back of the focal piece, something i fashioned all the way back in march when i was weathering an entirely different storm (it's not over, folks, but i've developed a stronger stamina), i engraved these words: and something that tugs at my heart tonight: my older son robin, instigator of the entire colorado adventure coming up, is out distributing flyers that announce my visit to The Tin Shop. this was his idea, entirely (this, from the little third grader who asked me to come speak to his class, who jumped up to stand beside me as i spoke, who told the entire class "my mom's famous", seventeen years ago). he seems to think that i'm worth all that, and i'm so touched by his enthusiasm that i don't even know what more to write. so, i'll just say this: i love you, robin. i love you, roy. and that is all that matters, in the end. xo