hello, new year

i don't know what happens with this blog, anymore.  for 6.5 years, i managed to write posts on a regular basis, documenting actual events not as much as i wrote about the nature that surrounds me, how the changing of the seasons made me feel, how i reacted to encounters and obstacles, turns of events, losses, gains, everything in between.  sometime in the middle of last year, i began to feel the need to bare my soul less and less, bit by bit, and here i am well into the last half of this month without having uttered a single word here on Ornamental.  looking back, i think a lot of it has to do with my love for Instagram, for showing a photo or two daily, telling a little story with a word or two or three.  sometimes without any words at all.  the ease of snapping a photo through my iPhone, always handy in my back pocket, has seduced me into staying away from a medium that requires a great deal of my time and energy.  i don't want to abandon the posts, i really don't; what i also don't want is to feel a burden of guilt and responsibility that sometimes comes with staying absent here for longer than the usual stretch of time.  that's up to no one but myself.  so, here i am with a brand new year, a brand new place to either stop some things altogether (habits, tendencies, worries and fears), or to let some things slide without giving them more than a single passing thought.  sometimes i'll be here, sometimes i won't.  it doesn't mean that my heart isn't into sharing my world with yours, it doesn't mean that the blog has lost its bearing in my life.  i think i just want to let the posts be something you can anticipate and look forward to and enjoy when you have the time to read, when i have the spare time and an inkling to sit down and write.  my life is so quiet, these days; i live in the middle of nowhere alone, as all of you know; i walk the back woods at different times of the day in silence with walter, listening to my footsteps on the rooted and bare earth path, listening for changes in the branches overhead and in the hills that surround me above and below.  sometimes there is a bird or two - a hawk that circles and cries out in the late afternoon, a wren that rustles in the dead leaves searching for a bit of winter fare. 
most times, in winter, there is the hushed silence of woods that have been left to the bare trees and to me.  there is the wind, sometimes, there is the jingling of walter's collar tags; there is the rattle of thoughts bumping around in my head, and sometimes there is not even the sound of those thoughts drifting lazily through my mind and into ether.  most times, it is a soft and blanketed silence, way out here on firefly road.   how do you spend your winter days, your mornings, your evenings and your nights?  you, who live on this side of the world, how do you pass your quiet time?  do you read into the night, stepping into a wardrobe of imaginary places, or do you sit before the fire and write chicken scratches of poetry into a book of leather?  do you, like i, sit quietly in a blue chair pulled up close to the hearth, do you stitch simple lines of red thread onto vintage flour sacking, do you remember special times with cherished friends as the needle slips down through a hoop and pierces the cloth, as it finds its way back up and through again?
   do you spend your sunny saturdays visiting your favorite spot beside the river or the stream?  do you pull on rubber boots and wade into rain-swollen waters, where you can search for treasures of glass and worn bits of sticks and wood, where you can watch the late afternoon sun dance across the surface of the moving stream that rushes on down to the sea?    (photo of my boots and legs, by my beloved friend julie, who was here visiting from ohio for the long days and nights of being stuck indoors as the rain poured down - who caught and succumbed to the treasure hunt bug, a highly contagious thing) 

  my treasured river, the great Oconaluftee, after four days of heaviest rain spilled over its banks and flooded the surrounding woods, and washed the forest floors bare and clean 

  searching for fossils hidden amongst creek gravel beds, walking blindly through overgrown woods with a red-thread fiercely treasured friend that i will have and love as family for the rest of my life

      for four long days and four long nights, a heavy torrential rain poured down last week in endless sheets, saturating every inch of wooded forest floor and sodden moss, spilling over in a gushing, furious mass from rivers and from streams.  the sun finally decided to show up and share its warmth, and i found that stepping out into the yard was like stepping into a natural watery spring.  there was not one bit of dry ground upon which to step, to walk.  pair after pair of shoes were soaked; i was forced to wait until the waters had surely receded.  i waited, and waited, watching first from these windows, and then from a safe edge of the river's higher waters.   in the heart of colder winter months, i am usually fortunate enough to draw inspiration from a falling blanket of forgiving snow.  it hasn't come thus far, this year, and i find myself pulling out heaps of vintage fabric and antique trims, beading, velvet leaves in search of winter creativity;  i hope for words to surface somehow, like little miracles, from the softness of my aimless stitchery.  from strands of ecru embroidery floss, from tattered lace, i summon memories of the dried brown beech leaves that still cling to branches and whisper with the wind.  i see the pale brown meadows that rest in the cold.  i see the trees, grey and strong and bare. 
from old pearl buttons and new drops of moonstone, i see the waxing winter moon, glowing shell-like and white in the sparkling night sky beyond my bedroom walls and through the window just above my head; i see the stars as they shimmer through the branches in the blanket of dark.  i see frost on the ground, and in the steam from a piping hot cup of tea.  i see all of this, on cold winter mornings and from warmer afternoons into the evening and on to the sleepy nights.  i sit quietly, and stitch and think and hope and dream.  i hope that this is how the long january evenings are finding you, too - in quiet and in rest, waiting through the short days and dark, long nights for the first quiet signs of tender spring.

Comments

[Sharron]

So worth the wait, thank you...

[Frankie Kins]

I agree with Sharron. Very much worth the wait.

XOXO

[Jamie V]

It's great to hear from you no matter the time between posts! I love the buttons and the stitching! Jamie V in MT

[Denise S.]

You and your words and pictures are always worth waiting for my dear one!

[Patricia Walters]

What a joy to see a post here. I almost never check in the middle of the day. I'm teaching class in 10 minutes so I'll come back tonight when I can savor your words and picture you tramping through the woods with Walter in the lead, lagging behind or by your side.

You are where you need to be, Nina. Just know that we're here with you when you want.

[Ginger Davis Allman]

What a joy you are, Dear Nina. Your view of the world is such a blessing to us. Thank you for sharing, when you can, as you can. xxx

[Robin B]

lovely nina
i love and am constantly inspired by you, your words & photos. share with us whenever your moved to it's a blessing for all of us.
light & love
Robin

[susanc]

It is always worth the wait! I am always so glad when you take the time to sit down and post photos and words! xxx

[Rebecca Anderson]

Always makes me happy and inspired to stop by your little corner of the world, whenever your name pops up on my blog roll. It's your spot - you post whenever feels right to you. We'll always be happy to see you but you mustn't feel obligated. Just found you on Instagram so I'm very happy about that!

[Sandy]

You know I've been thinking about getting a decent phone so I can access Instagram.

I've heard so much about it.(Mostly the same comments you have: how much people love it)

When I get my phone I'm going to check you out on Instagram.

I really do understand that social media can be a range of things from boring, tedious to overwhelming. So I feel what you're saying.

You have so much here on this blog, I could go back and reread every post and would still learn so much about life, you and myself.

So whatever works for you is cool with me.

There's a reason for this post as there's a reason for everything.

Thanks so much for sharing the truths of your soul.

[Vickie]

yo muchacha, no need to worry. your posts always arrive just when they are meant to! (like Gandalf)

[Terry S. Hewlett]

hibernation is a time of renewal as well as rest. The mind appears refreshingly renewed!!

[Angi eharis]

As another person wrote "so worth the wait", both your words and beautiful jewelry! Tx nina for always sharing and inspiring me, now i have to check out instagram, like you, everyone that uses it is hooked, probally because it is easier. I am still kinda new to the blooging thing and it does take alot of time, i am finding myself putting more hours in to blogging than making jewelry, but i do like the connections and new friends i am making. loooove your stuff and walter! Aloha, angi in hana

[karen]

Happy New Year, Nina. Glad to hear from you!

[Karen B]

I follow you on IG and I totally understand it's draw in lieu of blogging. I've slowed down myself and I think many others have. It is, however, much better to blog when there is something to say and not just because you (or I) feel guilty. I love your collection of leaves, buttons and beads and am looking forward to where your inspiration takes you.

Karen

[Barbara Lewis]

Nina, I'd like to follow you on Instagram. How can I find you? I've tried but no luck ... :-)

[susan]

This post made me smile. Especially that blue glass heart.
My days and evenings are pretty much like yours, more or less. Sitting by the fire in the morning with my coffee. Working on my art. Taking care of my mom. Taking care of my grandkids. Visiting with friends. Walking in the fields and woods behind our home. Listening to the quiet. Collecting treasures. Laughing with my husband. Sitting by the fire in the evening, reading.
Simple pleasures. And I am truly content and in the place I am meant to be. And so are you, dear Nina.
I've been missing your wonderful storytelling, but I completely understand that you need to be doing what you need to be doing. Time is slippery, I've heard. Our lives are always changing - and right now you are exactly where you are supposed to be. So, don't worry about us. We'll always be here waiting. Because you are our friend and we love you.
Just have happy days, my friend.

dusan xo

[Maidi M]

Thankyou, Nina, and blessings.

[Dian Oliver]

dear, sweet blessed friend of mine and of katey's. what a joy to read this story. i have tears in my eyes that you know the importance of the good things. the necessary things. the soul sustaining things that make our life fuller, shiny-er, hearty-er...and these blessings flow into the lives of those you meet and those who are touched by your beauty and your grace. may the peace of our Lord continue to permeate your life, your surroundings, and your gorgeous art. xoxoxo dian

[Katey]

I believe your heart builds up and then must over flow somewhere and we are the fortunate ones to receive your words as they wash over us. Thank you for sharing your gift so freely. It is like unwrapping a treasure. I love following you on Instagram. You share fantastic photos! Love you sweet friend.

[robyn]

I always enjoy your posts whenever you are ready to write them. Your sepia photos of Walter are very touching. You've captured the moment so well that it feels as if I am there. Also loving the images of the river and the scrubbed forest floor. It is hot summer here and I'm biding my time til my beloved Autumn/Winter arrives.

[Dinahsoar]

Silence speaks too Nina. When you don't post I can envision you up there on Firefly road with Walter surrounded by those beautiful mountains with your handwork surrounding you, or on that winding road to Alabama, or at home there with your mamma and family. You've woven your thoughts and all those wonderful images into our hearts and minds and there they will live--treasure to be unearthed when there are no posts. Be happy, be well, be joyful in this new year. God bless you and yours!

[Vickie]

I am a happy person today, to have been able to read your lovely post and see pictures of Walter. Yes, worth the wait. Hope you are doing well.
vickie in kc

[laura]

i'm happy to have read this today and to know that you are doing well. we had the same four days and nights of rain down the mountain but we ended up with a good 3+ inches of snow at the end there. it's so good to hear of how you're spending your time and read the thoughts you are sharing with us. love your wellies! :-)

love & blessings
~*~

[J a n e W y n n]

AH! I feel like I got lucky today!!!

I was taking a moment to stop for lunch So bored with FB and Twitter. Thought I would take a chance with blog hopping. So many have stopped updating. I did for a while but since have returned.

I am always happy to see your posts.

I have changed directions and have decided to do what I probably should have been doing for years-and that is paint. I use my blog now to document my progress. No one really reads it anymore. It doesn't matter that much to me either. It is for me. So I can learn from what I am doing. I am not trained at painting in oils like the Masters-those for whom I admire and hope to one day be. I just do it and pretend I am. Hoping. Waiting for my big break... Maybe in May. Maybe in the afterlife. We shall see.

What I have learned is that in order to be great-you gotta do great things. I am not sure how incredibly Great it is to sit by a window and paint for hours each day. But for me, it has become my greatest battle. My own personal little war. The oil wins from time to time but I keep fighting. I just want to be like those who paint true visions and narratives. I want to paint something that is like music. I want to be good, really good. I know I will be "great" when I can paint what I see. Right now, I am still looking.

That is how most of my days and nights are spent lately. Mostly out of the spot-light of that once busy world I was once in, with teaching and traveling. It certainly is easier than dealing with planes and luggage, but kinda isolating as I see no one at all anymore. Never talk...hardly have any correspondence with anyone from the past.

Its a strange life-interesting, but odd for sure.

Thanks for touching base-it made my lunch a bit nicer for sure...

Miss you
xox

[Carmen Tangherlini]

Physically you might be alone but spiritually you are surrounded by friends, near and far, who are blessed by your words and your art. I'm always thankful for your generous spirit and happy to read your words and thoughts when you are ready to share them.

[Bonnie Moench]

thank you for not forgetting us....your words are always worth the wait.

[A Facebook User]

For me, your poetic way of expression and your experiences come in and fill an empty space in my heart.

[Tina M.]

my word for this year is "intentional"...on purpose, with purpose, for a purpose....with thought and intent. i am awakening to the power of that.
know this, my dear friend...your life is yours and yours only to live. you get to choose all the why's and how's and when's and who's and where's. and you get to choose the not's. and the do's. There is much to be said for being content where you are, who you are. and when you choose to share any of it with us, it is all the better for us. if we were given gifts every day, we would begin to take them for granted, i fear....but if the gifts are eagerly anticipated, it makes them all the more special. hugs..xo

[stacey mattraw]

You are an amazing writer as well as amazing artist NIna!

[Kathryn Stripling Byer]

Nina, I'm glad to see that you are back. I hope we can get together soon. I decided to pull out some poems this afternoon, by the fire, and think about how to make them better, how to connect them with each other and with everything else around me. I've a segment of "River Notes," by Barry Lopez and I'd like to share with you. You may know it already. It sounds like you, and how I would like myself to be more often than I've been able to be lately.
love, Kay

[Katherine Langford]

Nina, Water Wanderer, It doesn't matter how often you post. Your posts are like the fossils and leaves and heart rocks you sometimes find. Rarities. Just the once in a while, "oh, I wonder what is up with Nina" fuels me to look for my little delights too. You remind all of us to be real and to look closely at our world. Instagram all you want! We will always be there for you.

[Lorri Scott]

How very nice to sit at my computer this morning with a cup of coffee and be able to catchup with you! You always paint a picture with your words that makes me feel like I'm there. xox

[Nicola]

I always love it when I'm surprised with a new blog entry from you. Never worry about how often you post - Your words leave me with a sense of calmness and I feel blessed to see what you've been working on. I totally agree with Tina M!

[bev b]

Glad to read your post. It made me feel exactly how you wrote it. I live in the suburbs but take every chance this time of year to go out after a big snow later at night when all is quiet. These are my solace moments and in the summer going to the cottage, sitting out back just listening. This summer I will have to find a creek and search for such wonderful finds as you have done. You are a great inspiration and no matter when you post, the guilt will fade...it did for me at least...after a while. Do it because you want....we will still be here. xo Bev

[Sophie]

Each of your post is exactly like your jewelry, unique, soulful and beautiful. Write as little or as much as you like. I will always be here to read you with a happy heart. Each word you write is a present.

[christinaB]

thank you.........

[Ben]

and just exactly where did you get such cute rubber boots?

[Seth]

We are all here whenever you are!