end.of.summer. those are three words that i never like to hear. summer always rushes past me at lightning speed, and leaves me standing vacantly in its wake with my mouth and heart wide open, wondering how the hours could have gained so much force from simple forward motion. this summer (and last year's, too, when i remember it) flew by so quickly that my sense of inner placement and balance have been altered. i don't know where i am when i wake. i never know the date, or the day of the week. the hours seem off, a little, somehow. but august, oh august. i always know you when you stand so softly, quietly, by my pining side. i do not ever want to say goodbye.
this post, as others from this summer have been, will remain brief. i'm still playing catch up from being gone from home more than i am ever here. firefly road, a place where i live and dream... a place that gathers dust and spiderwebs, stacks of unopened mail and magazines and endless, copius amounts of unordered and unwanted catalogs. such a waste of paper. poor trees... "A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings, while incense is ever flowing from the balsam bells and leaves.” - John Muir
when next i write (in the next day or so), i'll feature photographs of jewelry i made while soaking in the glorious light of colorado. i still bask in that light, through memories that refuse to let me be. sweet memories, all; i won't forget. i'll also be listing in the next few days a grouping of jewelry that i've been making and setting aside for summer's end. so suddenly, that time comes. that time is here.
for now, late in this afternoon, i'm sitting out on the porch with the laptop where it was meant to be - in my lap - with feet propped up on the wicker ottoman, a glass of sparkling lemonade weeping condensation on the little weathered wooden table at my side. i work like this, tapping away on a familiar keyboard, scrolling through images, searching for words. it isn't a bad way to spend a working day.
folks have asked about remaining workshops for the rest of the year. i'll remind you that there is a link to them over in the righthand column of Ornamental; two remain - art and soul in portland/october, and the red thread retreat, also in october, on the border of virginia and west virginia. red thread is full, but there are remaining spaces in workshops i'm teaching at art and soul: a lovely lace/leather/bead nest necklace, a leather/hammered word-metal/bead wrapped bracelet, and a metal/paper page necklace of affirmation: winter nest
and just like that, another year of teaching will have passed. it was a quiet year for me, in workshop regard - playing catch up from last year, when all hell broke loose with the loss of my father, with the aftermath of grief and disorder that always follows. i taught at valley ridge, in wisconsin, and have the upcoming fall venues; then, quiet. winter. introspection.
next february, i'll be returning to artful journey with a mixed media workshop, one that incorporates a blend of collage/assemblage/jewelry making techniques in shadowbox form. this is another of my three day classes, and the only class i've scheduled thus far for next year. last night's dream
i'd love to have you join me in portland and/or in california!