the gift of light, and a little springtime jewelry sale*

  i don't know why i'm always surprised by the way a little light can change one's perspective on so many, many things.  i snapped this photograph of my studio table and chair one morning around 9am, just after the sun had popped up over the eastern mountain ridge; i live in a sheltered cove here on firefly road, tucked up into the valley that is nestled snugly between two steeply pitched mountainsides, where a stream loudly rushes from somewhere up above to somewhere far below, down down down the road and on out into the river, where i suppose that water is carried to the sea.  to wilmington, maybe.  who knows.  but on this morning, just after i had returned from alabama, i was walking past the studio door with cup of coffee in hand, spotted the way that the light was spilling very briefly across the table and seat of my chair.  this direct sunlight does not last for long, through that northeastern corner of the house, and i knew to grab the camera and capture it before it was gone, a short five or ten minutes later.  not soon after this, i discovered that my camera cord had been left in alabama, the photo was forgotten, and weeks passed.  weeks, and another trip.  click, click, click.  time works like that - in increments of still life memories, in the way that light filters, spills, drapes across the things that we do or don't take for granted every day.
  last evening, i prepared dinner and brought it in here to the living room to eat (i have no dining table, there isn't a place for one, so i eat every evening looking out at the very same view that i see now before me, here at the little sea blue/green wooden table).  i was fascinated by the way that the last of yesterday's light was spilling across the old wood, through the old bottles and jar where this spring's flower bounty has been placed, where the petals have fallen and their spent beauty cast little shadows across the table's surface.  so brief, this light, these shadows.  i cleared the laptop from its perch, grabbed the iPhone and captured there in a tiny computerized box a bit of soft, etheral evening enlightenment.  morning northeastern light, evening southwestern glow - so much to be seen, in the way that the petals and the dust and the bottle water came together for me, just so.  and here, plucked from the shining water and sand surface of a walk along wrightsville beach just before evening darkened, a bit of shell that i had spotted and pocketed because i loved the weathered surface.  in the evening light last night, only then did i notice the wing i held in the velvety mountain gloaming glow.
  i have quite a few containers around this house that hold treasures from the places i have roamed; to keep these trinkets sacred as a collected group from my most recent of adventures, i've tied a weathered tag onto the handle of a small local pottery bowl (mud dabber pottery, over in balsam, just below the blue ridge parkway), so that years from now i'll see the seashell hearts and glass and tumbled stones and know why i've kept them for so long.  for now, i love how they mix with the fallen snowball petals on my little table - the sea brought home to mountains, from water to land, to tabletop that came from a tree somewhere, far away, long ago. 

*i started out this post to announce a little springtime jewelry sale, but when i sat down to write, the morning light spoke louder than the need to speak of business things.    i'll end this quiet post by saying, simply, that for the next three days i'm offering a 25%  etsy discount to my readers over in my little jewelry shop.  the sale runs from today until midnight on thursday, when i'll remove the discount again and full prices return.  there is a little box, when checking out with your purchase, where you can place the code - NBSPRING - and you'll see the discount from the original price. 

now, go to a window and see what the light is revealing to you.  let me know.  xo

Comments

[julie]

the light, the pictures and the pottery all made me smile this morning!!

[Kathy VK]

your angels are always watching over you ... don't you love the little ways they send reminders?
xxx

[Tina in McLeansville]

quiet times, sunshine and angel wings...can't get much better than that. sometimes the most glory lies in the simplest of things. the light here revealed to me this morning that there are purple petunias blooming in the pots of thyme and oregano on the deck. :) hugs...xo

[jan]

Here is Southern Oregon, I see the morning light spilling through the rosy fading saucer magnolia blossoms directly in front of my window ... so very different from the Tx city that I left mere weeks ago.

[susan]

I love the light coming in your windows.
I love your precious souvenirs, especially the angel wing.
And I always, always love your words.
Thank you, Nina.

xo dusan

[Carol Weiler]

Beautiful light, Beautiful words, Beautiful collections. Thankyou.

[sandra]

light is all it takes to turn murky water into sparkling diamonds, into shimmering silk and casts reflections like glass mirrors...

light is all it takes to clear up misunderstandings, to create aha moments and to brighten a mood...

hurry up now, for the light changes as it leaves its temporal marks...

who knows what tomorrow may bring?

[mary]

looking past my computer screen to the outside I see the sun filtering through so much green. the trees are almost full of leaves, the grass is high. so many highlights from rays making their way through so many shades of new, fresh green.

[Molly Vollmer]

I wish I could describe a similiar scene out my workroom window, but all I see is sky because our old box elder had to be cut down a few weeks ago. This room used to feel like part of a treehouse but now the sun beats down. I'm afraid it's going to be hot in here this summer. The garden is going to miss the shade too. I think I'll just pretend your window is in my house:D

[Minnie]

Angels have left you a wing. Omg,

[SusanS]

Sweet post-I'm sitting on my upstairs porch facing east with a cup of coffee and Swiffer competing for the computer in my lap. The desert sun here is bright, the light is clear and sparkling from sun up until that magic half hour before sunset when it mellows and even the air turns orange. This week, we've finally turned the corner toward spring and summer. The days are heating up and my garden is taking off. I don't think we'll have any more cold snaps (she said hopefully).
Have a great day!

[JudyMac]

As I recall, there is a highway marker east of Asheville in the area of Black Mountain which marks the Eastern Continental Divide. Therefore, I believe all streams east of that marker flow toward and into the Atlantic Ocean. West of that marker, which includes the mountain area where you live, streams flow west, into waterways that flow to the Mississippi, and on to the Gulf of Mexico.

Your pictures are lovely, the commentary as well.

[vickie]

At this time of reading your post, the screened open window reveals a still, velvety darkness, with the scent of lilies of the valley and peonies wafting thru; all of which combined with your post just make me feel so good.
vickie in kc

[Robyn Ayaz]

You find wings like you find hearts, miraculous! Nina, you really should write poetry - maybe you already do - you really have a beautiful way with words.

[rusted wings]

love how the light you've received is shining all the way into my heart in NW Montana on this balmy grey day, and filling my space with winged beauty.
thank you nina<3
abigail

[Sophie]

Thank you for sharing your light, your words and your creations with us. Am as always absolutely in awe of your photos and the light pouring through them is a gift for us. Brightened and sweetened my day. Thank you Nina!

[Tammy]

Today it was cold,yesterday rainy a few days before that the weather was great,i remember the light on my face as i look up to fill another bird feeder its so bright i can hardly see the the nail or ring for hanging on my tree.And the wind is blowing like it always does in nd.this was my experiance with the light of spring.I get so inspiried when i hear you are enjoying the new spring light too,and i dont know you in person,but i can read it in your writing the enjoyment you have with this light.Take care Nina,i dont come often,but when im here i so enjoy!!!