saturday was one of those crisp autumn days with deepest blue skies, the sort of day that insists i get out and immerse myself in the warm sunshine. not wanting to leave walter behind, i piled him into the car with me and took that wild, wooly creature off on a car adventure. up and over cowee mountain we went, ending up finally at a thrift store that sits tucked down some winding road outside of the usual pickers' reach. i like that about a place. after carting an armful of shirts and sweaters to the counter, i noticed a little dress hanging on a corner peg board, a note pinned absentmindedly to its lacy midriff. rough condition. why couldn't it have said "fiercely loved"? well worn? weathered? aged? i snatched it up, last thing, before i walked out the door. we seasoned girls have to stick together, i thought; you come right on home with me. then yesterday morning, i spent a good hour playing around with light on a western wall in my bedroom, dangling some of my words with antique lace around its miniature neck. it wasn't a bad way to spend the rest of the morning.
i wonder what the doll looked like that used to wear this dress. i wonder what the little girl was like. the house. the attic. the trunk or drawer in which it must have been stored. the red splash of paint on the back doesn't show. the tears are endearing. the crumpled little flower where the lace is gathered in front is even more special now that part of it is gone (like the feathered tail of an spun cotton bird, eaten by a cat).
i don't know how anyone can ever part with things like these. but i've moved before, have dealt with piles of unpartable things. there comes a point where objects have to go. i've regretted so many partings along the way; and yet today when i look around at all the many things i've gathered that clutter this house, i understand. take in; let go. take in; give away...
this past week i sat quietly and hammered words letter by letter into silver. there is a limited edition of these "silver lining" pendants, as well as a few "prologue" chains, over in my little etsy shop, which has stood empty for what feels like way too long. here is what i said about the words i chose to use: "after muddling my way through an emotional rough spot these past few months, i decided to open up the truths of how i was feeling to the blog i write. the outpouring of support and encouragement from my loyal readers was a bright light, as well as nourishing balm for a tender, cautious time. i decided to make a limited edition of 'silver lining' pendants that honor those feelings we all experience and weather from time to time. wearing the words "gently polish every silver lining" can be an affirmation for the owner, as well as for those who read them." and this is so true, so very true; you've all given me great support and encouragement, every step of the way, as i've stumbled and walked in circles, trying to find my way. i'm finding it, step by step, sometimes stumbling back into the step i had just made, but moving tentatively forward again without as much effort as before. i can't tell you in just a few words how much you've all meant to me, how much you continue to matter as i come check in here at Ornamental. i've been writing this blog for seven years, come december. i can't believe i've kept it going, all this time. i hope to continue, for a long long time. xx