on a blustery pre-spring day, i list a few notes on how to chase away the lingering winter blues: wander into the woods at the edge of the house and pick the daffodils that are struggling to bloom. bring them inside. place in a random, unexpected place. take photos. do not forget to place the buds back in a lovely favorite vase with water, in the sun. throw caution to the wind and buy a sweet crewelwork pillow with a bird on it for the bed
go to lovely asheville with a cherished best friend on a sunny free day, stumble upon a beloved n.c. potter's mugs with birds on them, throw even more caution to the wind and purchase not one, but two - then fix hot spiced cinnamon tea for two (with a biscuit for walter) the minute we walk back through the door at day's end after reading this friend's post about journaling, i have vowed to her and to myself to pull out a beloved, abandoned hand made journal from new year's 2006 and begin work in it anew. i had spent all new year's eve, both day and evening, embroidering the tiny antique beads onto muslin that i had stamped with words, after assembling the book from scratch with an antique speller cover and ledger pages; three weeks later, my brother died, and i hadn't the heart to continue with it. now, i shall. at least, i have declared that i shall, and that is a start.
these pages are too treasured to leave abandoned. i worked too hard to leave the rest of the book undone.
and so, i am listening to myself this late winter afternoon. i'm paying attention to the need to reconnect with myself, with the book artist that i used to be. that i still am, deep inside. that i'll become, with fervor, once again. i want to write more hand written letters, as well. last night i wrote a two page letter on vintage onion skin paper to my sister in alabama, simply sharing memories and declaring my sisterly love. it was with pride that i walked down to the mail box this morning and tucked the stamped envelope inside as a little rain began to fall. i owe my dear new zealand sis a promised handwritten letter as well, and that comes next. i want to take the time to stain white paper with tea. i want to take the time to write by hand about nothing and everything. and now, i am headed back into the studio, where i am relishing my hours there, sitting at the table that remains uncluttered and clear, pulling this and that out to use in my work, then at day's end putting this and that back up where it belongs, again. i have draped the wrapped pieces of my artistry around a water-worn root or branch that i carted home from the river; when i saw it washed up on the pebble beach, it was my jewelry that i envisioned adorning the weathered wood before i ever even picked it up and brought it home; i saw my jewelry quite at home there on its soft, smooth surface. i saw my jewelry there. xo