i was away, as those of you know who are still with me here, most of the summer. there was one quiet stretch when i stayed at home for a good four weeks in a row, and i spent that time focusing on work that came out of the studio, jewelry that was born of quiet and calm and solitude. the rest of the time i was rushing back and forth between wisconsin and home, alabama and home, alabama, alabama, alabama, colorado. i'm leaving again for alabama tomorrow because the worry factor over my mother runs fairly strong right now, and because i realize that my presence down there is (as always) deeply welcome and actually needed. but the time i've had here these past two weeks have been lovely and sweet, paying homage to the last few lingering moments of my favorite season of the year.
i know how glad walter is to be right here at home, to have me right in his sight. he is making that so endearingly clear.
early mornings are spent out on the screened porch, in the trees, sipping french press coffee (italian roast, so smoky and good), reading a book, communing with walter and the lingering hummingbirds. i think he thinks we are holding hands. it's not the gentlest of touches, but i do not move, as long as he wants to stay like that. it is a while. then when he is ready, we rise and go for a walk through what still feels to me like a rain forest, the green is still so lush. these mountains this summer have not wanted for moisture; i know how blessed we are with this.
where are you all? i stay away, i stay quiet for a spell, and you seem to step into the shadows. i understand, i've been the same way. maybe now that autumn is beginning to get a little closer on the horizon, we'll come back in to the circle. it's difficult to tell. for now, i wanted to share a few photographs from my last day in colorado - a place that is forever engraved in my grateful heart. all of these images were snapped with my iPhone, in a little ghost town of a place called Saint Elmo, high up a winding gravel mountain road at the end of the day...
i miss my faraway, rocky mountain son; the gratitude i feel for having loved those moments, for being able to feel the depth of those moments as they happened, is a very big thing.
it was amazing, miraculous, inspiring beyond imagination. i can't wait to see where all of this will lead me, down the road. thank you, beloved colorado, for embracing me as beautifully as you did. my heart feels all the richer, for it.
“As we crossed the Colorado-Utah border I saw God in the sky in the form of huge gold sunburning clouds above the desert that seemed to point a finger at me and say, "Pass here and go on, you're on the road to heaven.” - Jack Kerouac, On the Road