the quiet and the plundering of rain

it has rained so much, so much this week.  yesterday was one long series of thunderstorms that brewed and toiled and spilled over the mountains one after the other, rumbling and tumbling and cropping up over and over and over again.  walter and i stayed inside, quiet as mice, while i spent a long day of dark and wind tucked away in the studio, listening to the tail end of Thirteen Moons, removing tiny words from a palm-sized antique book of fragile poems that has been resting on my studio shelf, delapidated, for going on 15 years.  i read through pages of miniature text, cut some out with the sharpest of scissors, placed some here, placed some there.  all the while, the wind blew and the rain fell.  at dusk, a fog rolled in, and still the thunder rattled the windowpanes, through all of that muffling white.
by the time i crawled into bed with a book late last night, the rain was gone but the trees were audibly dripping, and a breeze brought the rich, heady smell of wet, black earth and new spring growth through the barely open window just above my head.  this morning, when i walked out onto the porch and down the wooden walkway, i found the remnants of flower petals dotting the wood at my feet.  snowfall, in april, then:  the last of the snow from the snowball tree.  i eat every day from japanese plates with flowers strewn across their surface, like this.  they lace the plates on branches thin and brown, across palest blue-green mistiness:  flowers in a shallow bowl, across a watery sky, poetry on porcelain.  no wonder the fallen petals felt familiar, there at my feet.  i wanted to thank those of you who took advantage of the jewelry sale, and helped me ready the shop for what comes next.  i've spent a good solid couple of weeks mulling over how to fasten, how to adorn, how to manage and rearrange pieces that can be more than just one thing, can be taken off and added again.  that's what sitting in a quiet little studio for hours and hours and hours will do to one who has nowhere else to be, as nature beyond my windows makes her own tender ornaments.  what a lovely muse she continues to be, for me.
new pieces will be making their way into my little shop, within the next few days....xo 

Comments

[sandra]

The aftermath of storms can be beautiful. There's a flip side to everything. It just doesn't seem like when we are going through it.
I can see you were busy during that storm. I like the idea of versatile ornaments.
Enjoyed your post today.

[sandra]

meant to add: the colors on the jewelry remind me of change...

[vickie]

My sister in Atlanta emailed me about the storms there overnight. (We're having them here now.) But today she's able to get out and garden, and guess what! She found her first ever HEART ROCK while digging up a hosta to transplant. About a month ago, I had sent her pictures of the few I had and told her about your collection. She had never heard of heart rocks(!) and now that she's found one she is on top of the world! Yay!
vickie in kc

[Loretta]

These pieces are amazing! Just gorgeous!

[Tina in McLeansville]

just think how green it will all be after the rain...how fresh it will seem and how wonderfully clear the sky will be! the new pieces look soooo good....hugs...xo

[tracey]

You just reminded me, I picked up some tiny things at the flea market in Raleigh last weekend that you might like, if you will email your mailing address I will send them to you :)
There is no better thing than rain in the NC mountains... sigh.....

[susan]

Oh Nina - to be safe and warm inside while the rain pours down - I love that cozy feeling.
Wish we could have some of those rainy days here in New England. It's been so dry these past couple months. We've had only one day of steady rain - and it was magical how everything turned green with just a bit of water.
Our snowball trees won't have flowers for quite a while yet - so I truly enjoyed seeing yours. I love those tiny white petals when the flower starts to fade.
Thank you for this lovely post (and your new jewelry with the tiny clipped words is just beautiful).
Keep dry.

xo dusan

[Mary]

how I love a rainy day at home!

[Carol Weiler]

Rainy days are the best when you can be in the studio. Lovely work.

[Robyn Ayaz]

Oh, snowball trees! I love them, the shape of the petals, their blousy abundance. What a treat after the storms - I love being safe and cozy inside while Nature plays rough outside. Also liking the words you cut out!

[Farmlady]

The energy of the storm and the silence of new growth in your natural surroundings has produced some lovely jewelry.
Beautiful post!

[Norma]

What a lovely awesome post Nina. Nature, a wonderful life force continues to breathe her self into this world of ours. Love the snowball tree fallen blossoms. There's a haiku there at your feet. *smiles* Norma
p.s. love your design ideas of taking and rearranging elements within the pieces you make. And yes time in the studio allows the muse to really speak. Magical.

[Sophie]

We had moderate rain here and the land is longing for so much more...but rain from my window, pouring down on concrete pavements and tarmac doesn't have the same poetic quality as yours does... or perhaps I just need to see rain through your eyes to appreciate its beauty! I am looking forward to seeing your new creations. What you have shown us here really speaks to my heart. Thank you for sharing.

[diana giambrone]

I love the rain and You and Walter!

[Karen]

My dear Nina, you are such an amazing writer that I was there beside you, listening to the drip, drip, drip of the rain, feeling the deep rumble of the thunder, breathing in the fresh air after the storm. And there are your gorgeous jewels, poems made manifest. As always, inspiring, my dear...
-Karen xo

[kim]

Oh I know all about rain. It's been raining for days here in England. I so long for some warm sun when I can kick off my boots and socks and wear my sandals.