Our 90 year old 120ft high Blue Spruce came down in the wind yesterday. I had to write this eulogy. It was a truly old friend.
Wreaths don’t own front doors. And house doors don’t own front door decorations, either. Why not put a bird house or a bird-i-a-box on your front door? My mother recently downsized to a two bedroom apartment in a retirement community, so she has an apartment door in a hallway rather than the outside door she… Continue reading Door Decorations at Berwick-on-the-lake
Every year I get together with my sisters and mom for a long weekend. We hang out, eat chocolate, make art, talk, drink wine talk some more, drink coffee and tea, play games, walk, hike, and cook. Oh, and we eat some other things too. Not just chocolate. 😉 Our Girls Go gatherings have been… Continue reading Annual “Girls Go” Gathering
Seems like I write a new post whenever I’m pressed for time in my studio. Maybe it’s avoidance. Maybe it’s just that when I’m struggling or when I’m jumping up and down with joy because I got over my hump is exactly when I feel like sharing that struggle and that joy with you. I’m… Continue reading Studio Scraps and Feeling Scrappy
I am glad to be alive today. We had Thanksgiving dinner with 15 family and friends — and since our house is tiny, we hosted it at our art gallery. What fun! It was an experience I hope everyone there remembers. Thanks everybody. I am grateful to have had all the experiences of my life,… Continue reading Thoughts on gratitude
As a child, my favorite saint was St. Francis. I think one of the reasons I was so drawn to his story was his profound connection to all of creation: sun, moon, plants, rivers mountains, animals … somehow that way of living and being has always resonated with me. I continue to gain inspiration from… Continue reading Inspired by the Prayer of St. Francis
We start from a dark place before we are born, reach for the ambiguous lightness beyond as if we could see through the window into lighter places, through a cloudy film. It’s always there in winter, for some. A tiny glass basket pulls me back to childhood: its’ candy colors, stacks of rings like playground… Continue reading Memory
Every journey begins with imagination. Even the journey of a life … that path we travel from conception to death, even this wandering begins with the imagination of two souls. Sometimes the imagining is born of love. Sometimes desire. Sometimes rage or passion or indifference. Always, we begin with the wanting. The wanting to be… Continue reading Imagined Journey