full of promise
today feels so full of promise. this is probably the first time since i've come home that i did not feel immediately defeated upon waking. so many things have been crossed off my list, i have lots of packages going out today, and for the first time, last night i created something new! i am feeling so inspired and have lots of ideas swirling around like strawberries and cream in my head.
mav has invited us all to show the art in our homes. this is a painting i treasure. it is of my old and very dear friend natalia. an old flame of hers had painted it, and when it came time to move on she gave it to me. now, every morning when i walk out my bedroom door i see her and say "good morning my friend." this is such a wonderful topic, i may have to post another tomorrow...
next week i will be working on the katrina quilt...just a few more things to do first:
~two more packages to send out
~visit the arboretum
~finish Gilead
~grow
~complete the first piece for my new shop
~watch Pride and Prejudice
~breath
giving
I love giving. It really is the best feeling. And when I can combine that with being creative, my level of satisfaction is off the charts! This project was so enjoyable to work on...I had been thinking about it for months. What a relief to get it out of my brain and into real life! And so months and months after the deadline, I am finally crossing back tack II off my list...I am smiling from ear to ear! I hope the recipient loves it as much as I do...time to wrap and send!
spring at last
happy first day of spring!
i'm finally finishing up my back tack II project...my partner has been ever so patient and understanding. next up: the katrina quilt.
and after those are behind me...at last i will be working on some new designs for sale in my online shop (coming soon), in my dear friend holly's shop, and hopefully at the renegade in chicago!
c's garden show entry...an outdoor stone bathroom was a great success this weekend. he won three awards and made the morning news! i can't wait for these types of things to live at our home.
cheese
i've been stewing around this morning. taking myself too seriously. i needed to step away from a difficult project...went to the kitchen for a little nibble of something and this is what i found. thank you universe, for reminding me to smile. i feel better already! the other is one of my brother that always makes me laugh. there is no one else on this great earth that can make me laugh more. and in keeping with mav's post of the day...currently i'm listening to paul simon's kodachrome....and besides, i can't possibly be down. the finale of project runway is on tonight!
on the mend
it has taken some time, but i am back. i returned home to sunny with snow rochester a little more than two weeks ago...spending a lot of time remembering through old pictures, sleeping, feeling the days out as gently as possible, and becoming inspired again...spending lots of time in my studio. ahhh the warm enveloping of one's own private, creative space...it has truly been a haven. my mom passed away february seventeenth in the afternoon, with the sun shining in, i was holding her hand. in her last moments she was to me beautiful, vulnerable, open, and pure. i miss her.
i am slowly getting back into the project groove. soon i will be getting caught up with past projects, and the katrina quilt will resurface...
helping me along...beautiful ...images ...sounds ...escape and words...
Naked, you are simple as a hand,
minimal, supple, earthy, transparent, round.
The lunar markings, the pathways through the apple,
are yours; naked, you are slender as the wheat.
The Cuban blue of midnight is your color,
naked, i trace stars and tendrils in your skin;
naked, you stand tawny and tremendous,
a summer's wholeness in cathedral gold.
Naked, you are tiny as your fingernail;
subtle and curved within the daybreak's pink
you thrust yourself into the subterranean world
a tunnel's length through our duress and clothing:
your clarity trims its flame, unfurls, or covers over,
and again you issue, naked as your hand.
MORNING XXVII
Pablo Neruda
