I don't know

...what her name is. I have not met her, either. She is the coworker of a friend, and is someone they are all worried about. She is in a fight for her life against Breast Cancer. My friend told me there was a plan to create a basket of gifts, and she wanted to commission a journal. I was glad to, I said, but only if I could donate it. Some things needs to be given, not sold. I created this:


Please take a moment to send good thoughts and prayers her way...whoever she is, wherever she lives. She is one of so many fighting this battle.

And please, take a moment, click here. One click is all it takes to provide free mammograms for those unable to afford them:

And please, lastly, be vigilant. Take care of yourself. Whoever you are, wherever you are.

Warm Fuzzies

I got them today when my grooviest of friends, Holly, gave me this award.

How nice is that?? Here is my favorite part, of course, which is to send you wandering into the blogosphere to see some blogs you might not have seen before...so here goes! (Oh, and for those I have passed the award on to, here are your instructions...)

1.The winner can put the logo on their blog

2. Link the person from whom you received your

. Nominate at least 7 other blogs

4. Link those blogs to yours

5. Leave a message on the blogs of the people you nominated.

:
1) NyteRayn's wonderful ElementalCraft blog, where you will find an array of crafty goodness, tutorials, book reviews and more. Plus she makes adorable stuffies!
2) IkeaHacker...you would not believe what people come up with! (I am extra fond of this site because they showed a hack of mine once!)
3)Deb Silva will keep you Creatively Amused; she is a wonder! Felting, painting, collage...I love her work.
4) Wierd and Wild- check out MsKitty Fantastico!
5) The ridiculously talented Paulette Insall

6.
7.

Ok I know I am supposed to put two more, but I am feeling kind of crummy today, so maybe you can help me out? Please leave a link or two in a comment, sites you like that I might like too, and I will chose 2 for the remaining slots. For now, I am going to grab 40 winks. ;)

2,974/ 24/ 90/ 1

2,974 lives lost.
24 missing.
Citizens of 90 different countries.
One September morning.


I remember.






Remember September Mail Art Call:

Remember September is a mail art project which was developed by Gail Ellspermann to commemorate, on an annual basis, the tragic attacks on the United States on September 11, 2001. The idea is to decorate an envelope with artwork remembering and honoring the victims, rescue workers, and countless volunteers affected by 9/11. Then, bring it to your post office on September 11 and ask for a hand cancel.

The envelopes will never be opened so you may include a private note, poem, or prayer as part of your memorial. The envelopes are being collected and will be exhibited at various venues.

GUIDELINES:
Create a piece of "mail art" on any size envelope which is relevant to 9/11, the victims, heroes, and/or events of the day.


Use any type of media, such as: collage, digital art, crayon, marker, pencil, paint


Address your envelope to: Remember September, PO Box 793, Katonah, NY 10536


Mail your envelope on September 11, 2008, if at all possible. Please mail no later than 9/18/07.


Include your name and snail mail address on the BACK of the envelope to be included in a mailing of posters of the 2008 submissions and to be entered into a drawing for a free CD of all images (100 will be given away)

Greener pastures

Getting into the start of the school year is bittersweet. I know autumn is preparing for her annual visit and summer is looking to move on in a few short weeks. I know we have some time left, and that the warm, sweet days are not done yet, but I do feel a tug of anxiety at letting go of all that green outside.





I spent the last week immersed in it, up it the Green Mountains of Vermont, revelling in the cool breezes up there on the mountainside trails, wandering alone through lush, emerald woods on curving pathways through the ferns.






I spent time gathering up wildflowers by the roadside when traveling, tucking them into a water bottle until I could bring them back to put them by my bed.


I enjoyed an afternoon strolling through the neat lines of vineyard arbors, their branches dressed with new fruit and scores of japanese beetles, who clustered on the leaves engaged in indecent insect acrobatics.


I drew in deep breaths of the fresh wind that danced across Lake Champlain in the bright sun, the blue water dazzling, the blue sky as startling as a happy shout, and I ran my eyes along the Adirondack mountains that line the distant New York coast.


I watched an evening thunderstorm consume the mountain opposite our balcony, rolling in dressed in ominous purple and indigo robes and shutting out the twilight sky;

in the morning, a shroud of heavy grey cloud had been draped gently over the mountainface, and the rain was still falling, softly this time.



All these things I try to fold up and tuck into the corners of my mind like a colorful quilt for when it is cold outside, for when the trees stand naked and the air stings with a frosty snap, and the world is painted in blues and greys.

I plan to take them out and wrap myself in them, a cloak to weather the seasons as they turn, turn, turn.

The Wild Side

Yesterday evening, I witnessed a wildness in the weather that I had not seen here in Connecticut before. I have seen my share of storms; even a hurricane when I lived in Puerto Rico as a child. This, though, was no ordinary summer storm. It churned up in a matter of minutes, bearing down on the neighboring city of Bridgeport, triggering a tornado watch here in our town. The wind barrelled in, lashing the trees with heavy rain. I watched out the window in amazement as the rain turned over to hail, small as lemon pips to start, but soon becoming larger.



Soon, hailstones the size of hazelnuts were bouncing as the hit the lawn, clanging angrily on the air conditioners, and dimpling hubby's car with the impact of their descent.



They splashed into the massive pools of water that had appeared in our lawn, making it look as though they were stocked with leaping trout.



The hail brought with it a fiercer wind, and between both forces, leaves were being shredded all around, torn from the trees and whirling madly in the maelstrom: I felt like we were in some horrible snowglobe-slash-salad spinner, as I watched the thousands of green scraps hurtling in circles through air now white with density of the rain.



The trees down the street became invisible. And I admit, I got scared. This was fury I had not seen in a storm before. We sent the children to the basement and closed all the windows. We watched the lights flicker repeatedly, and hoped the cats had found a safe place to hunker down, since calling them at the start of the storm had proven futile.



In the backyard, muddy water sluiced through from our neighbor's yard, like a frantic river trying madly to outrun itself, and our walkway of stepping stones vanished under the rising water.



When things finally quieted down, I took a look at the astounding mess outside. Shredded leaves clung to every surface like wet confetti, and hailstones had accumulated at the edges of walkways and steps, in the wooded areas behind the house.



They even floated like ice cubes in a cold drink in the puddles on the patio.



Large branches had been beaten from the trees;some hung akwardly from the roof of the shed while others were scattered over the lawn. The air was heavy with the smell of earth and fresh greens; the perfume of pines and poplars, the chlorophyll beaten out of them and into the air.

It was magnificent, and humbling, and had us on the edge of our seats for the whole show (the cats most of all, who were ecstatic to be back in the warm house when the show was over.)

Nature is a grand diva when she wants to be, and when she wants to take a walk on the wild side, sometimes we have no choice but to tag along.

Prayer Flags

This is a swap from the EC that I recently hosted. The creations were incredible! I am sending out the returns today to the players; I hope they enjoy them as much as I have. Here are three of my own, and a few from the other artists. How lucky am I to get to play with such talented women?






Artist: Corrine Davis

Artist: Kathy Ogg

Artist:Pattie Mosca

Guts

Do you know how much courage it takes to put a picture of your feet up on your blog? I questioned myself a bit before doing it, and wondered about my hesitation. What am I afraid of?
My feet have served me well in my life; I should be proud to claim them. They have allowed me to climb trees and fences, to rollerskate and spring from the high dive, to bicycle and run on the beach, tiptoe into the tide. They have walked me across a stage to my diploma, down the aisle to my husband, and up and down the corridor of the maternity ward once, twice, three times for three sons. My feet are worthy of honor, yes indeed. However, they also deserve to be pampered in a brief Photoshop session to preserve their dignity!


All this because I wanted to share what I made. I saw these creations in various Etsy shops and thought that they were a very cute idea. They are called barefoot sandals. Essentially, a bit of jewelry for your feet. They resemble flip-flops, but are soleless, which I love, since flip-flops hurt my feet, and I prefer to go barefoot anyway.

So, a little gift for my feet, to honor them. I will dress them up next weekend, and they will dance around the fire in the forest where my tribe and I will meet to celebrate the summer.

Another one?

I am very honored indeed, to have been given this award. The fact that my blog is of enough interest to even be read brings me pleasure, but to know it is consider worthy of special recognition from my peers brings me no end of happiness. A heartfelt thank you to sweetmango for the honor. She has two wonderful blogs worthy of your time, especially if you love beautiful art, and if standing up for the oppressed, human and animal alike, matters to you. Here is one of her paintings; isn't it breathtaking?
copyright sweetmango 2008

Now it is my turn to pass this award on to 7 bloggers who inspire me, and whose posts and creativity I think will inspire you, too! Go now, and visit ( and comment!):


Mallory Matson is an exceptionally talented photographer and writer. Don't let her age fool you; her blog is insightful and rich with poetry (and if you are lucky, Jeff Buckley or Joni Mitchell will be playing), and her photostream is riddled with picture after picture of evocative imagery and beautiful faces. I cannot wait to see her continue to grow as an artist; her talents already shine so bright.
copyright Mallory Matson 2007
copyright Mallory Matson 2007

Chrysti has long been an inspiration to me; I consider her a sister-in-art. I am blessed to have her art showcased in rooms around my home, and am forever in awe of her ambition, growth and accomplishments. Be sure to check out her shop on Etsy, and here.

My friend, the wonderful and intelligent Debra, makes the most delicious bracelets and shares sparkly bits of wisdom with the world...you can visit her here and see the wrist-candy here!

For anyone who likes a good giggle and a bit of NY meets Hollywood dish, this is the blog for you. Dish is my bestest friend from wayyyy back (think 80's hair) and is a fantastic NYC writer, diva, and all-around goddess.

Recently Rose honored me with a Web Award, so it is nice to be able to bestow one back. Her blog, A Walk in The Woods, frequently leaves me hungry for a fresh repast, and her Etsy shop has some lovely lovelies to browse through.


One of my favorite people and artists, the talented Gene Black lives in the ever-hospitable South where he paints, doodles, and quilts. Like me, Gene is a Sharpie Scout and chocoholic, 2 of many reasons why he is dear to my heart.

And last, but certainly not least, I cannot describe Spike's blog better than she does, so here it is : "a madwoman's lunchbox" -- a melange of colors, textures, or styles that do not commingle gracefully. "Madwoman's Lunchbox" -- a blog about fiber, photos, and stream of consciousness. because, after all, that's just what the worldwide web needs.

So now each of these bloggers gets the pleasure of selecting favorites blogs of their own to honor!

The rules of accepting are as follows:

1) Put the logo on your blog
2) Add a link to the person who awarded you
3) Nominate at least 7 other blogs
4) Add links to those blogs on yours
5) Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs.

Now Go! Read! Comment! Celebrate Bloggodiversity!

The Art of Forgiveness

I am a self-described magpie; I adore shiny, interesting objects. I like to think of myself as a savvy collector of ecclectic items and fanciful objects. There are those in this house, however, who are more likely to say I am a "compulsive hoarder" of piles of "useless crap."

One woman's treasure another man's trash? Fair enough, I suppose.

I had a friend once tell me, "You see potential in everything! I never would have thought to make THAT out of THOSE!" Alas, my skill for seeing potential is not as well-honed as one might think. I have seen what I thought was "potential" in dying houseplants, ugly skirts, broken appliances and unsuitable men. So, instead, I like to think I am some sort of ambassador of Second Chances.

As is with most of us, my life has been frought with moments that really could have used the power of the Do-Over, if that option were available at the time. It has been rife with opportunities to forgive and be forgiven, to give it another go, to reapply for admission, to give back and to recycle.

Second chances (and third, and fourth) are important gifts we give ourselves and others. There is no force more powerful in the universe than forgiveness, and forgiveness is a second chance of the spirit. It is a laying down of burdens. Forgiveness is not condonment or approval when wrong has been done; it is setting yourself free from the weight of bitterness.





The act of forgiveness is simple, which is not to be confused with easy. It can be unspeakably hard. In some cases, for some folks, impossible. The one thing I have found in my own life is that it is a tool I have had to reach for over and over, and it is the one that does the best repairs, yet I am reluctant to use it on myself. Oh, we are hard on ourselves, many of us.

How do second chances apply to art, you say? How convenient of you to ask; I have the answer here. A picture frame for a beloved fellow Circus Freak of the EC, Maggie. Adorned with the flotsam and jetsam of the creative tides that wash into my studio, this piece is a showcase of repurposed ephemerma and embellishments. Broken jewelry, orphaned game pieces, single buttons, used postage stamps, bottle caps, and even a subway token, all share here a common bond: the second chance.

Is there someone you might try to forgive?




Is it yourself?

Humbled

Talk about your nice surprises... I woke today to an email telling me I have been chosen for an Arte y Pico Award, which was created "to be given to bloggers who inspire others with their creative energy and their talents, be it writing or artwork in all medias."


What makes it especially gratifying is it is awarded from peer to peer, creative to creative. Mine was graciously bestowed by Rose of Walk in the Woods.I hope you will take a moment to visit each of the five blogs I've listed below which I have found to be inspirational, and perhaps leave a comment letting them know you stopped by!

Rose has presented me with the award and I would now like to present the award to the following five blogs.
To be listed is considered a “special honor.” The Arte y Pico Award is meant to be paid forward to bloggers who merit recognition for their creative efforts.


Zura's Blog (www.creativeclown.com)

Holly's Blog (www.groovyholly.blogspot.com)

Pattie's Blog (www.pjmosca.blogspot.com)

Lani's Blog (www.artistlanikent.blogspot.com)

Amy's Blog (www.amymasart.blogspot.com)


If you have been selected for the award, please pay it forward, following the steps below:
1) Choose 5 blogs that you consider deserving of this award based on creativity, design, interesting material, and overall contribution to the blogger community, regardless of the language.
2) Post the name of the author and a link to his or her blog so everyone can view it.
3) Each award-winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award.
4) The award-winner and the presenter should post the link of the "Arte y pico" blog so everyone will know the origin of this award.


5) Please post these rules!

The Arte y Pico blog is in Spanish. To read it in English, clickhere. The translation is not perfect.

Happy Creativity to all!

Expect the Unexpected

Nothing feels better than being blindsided by something nice. I mean, life will creep up on us like a thug and knock us flat with all manner of problems, emergencies, connundrums and dilemmas, sometimes to the point where we sit vigil awaiting the next Awful Thing. Which is why the unexpected Nice Thing has such impact, even when they are small gifts from the universe. I wanted to share two that happily surprised me recently.

The first was late in the week when the remarkable Rose of Walk In The Woods let me know I had won her weekly giveaway, and it was a pair of the Spirit Cord necklaces she has in her Etsy shop I had only recently been coveting. They arrived in the mail yesterday. I added a silver lotus pendant I put together to the green one, and love the way it looks. Thank you, Rose!


The other Oh! moment came this morning when, after my walk in the hazy, early morning sun, I wandered my disaster of a yard mulling over my appalling gardening skills. I kid you not, my back yard is like a meadow. I guess nature is ok with the way I let things run amok, though...she surprised me with some out of control wild blackberry bushes that this morning yielded the first harvest. While I was picking them I discovered yet another surprise guest: a gangly Mulberry bush, also showing ripening berries.



Sweet surprise, earth mother; I thank you.

Visitors

" It is June, wildflowers on the table.They are fresh an hour ago, like sliced lemons,with the whole day ahead of them."

- Stanley Plumly

I don't think I could say it better; I won't try. Each morning as I walk, I gather some of the prettier weedlings and herblettes that nod their heads at me from the edge of the sidewalk, or from behind the fences along the back end of the highschool football field. I don't even know most of their names, but am learning. Wild carrot? Red clover? Those I knew. But new to me today: white campion, butter-and-eggs (toadflax), Swamp Candles (Yellow Loosestrife), fleabane, Oriental Lady's Thumb, and Asiatic Dayflower. Identifying these just by online photos is tricky, and some I just have not found a match for. I am grateful though that the internet is giving me the gift of at least some knowledge...to call these by their name is so satisfying, especially now that they are my guests!

Talking to the trees

I sure hope I am not the only one who does it. I may be the only one to admit it.

Each morning I am up at six and stumbling out the door, barely coherent, MP3 powered on, and I am off and walking. The nice thing about six am (some people think there is NOTHING nice about it) is that things are pretty still. By things, I mean, human things. And human beings. Cars and lawnmowers, shouting children; even other walkers or joggers are rare. I like this. I like that most of my town still has its eyes closed. My personal space becomes fantastically large; I can walk backward to look at things longer if I like. I can play air drums along with the music being piped into my ears. I can dance a little, sing under my breath, cross the street in the middle, and do a full-on freak-out if I happen to walk face first into a surprise spider's web, without fear of mortification.

Most of all, I can talk to the trees.

I wish I could find the right words to convey what I draw from the trees. I sense them breathing, almost, their energy permeating the morning, soothing me like a comforting hand. Each one is, to me, like a person, a character. And yes, as I said, I really do; I speak to them. Not outloud too often; mostly in my head. The old-growth elders of the tribe, massive and stately, exuding the wisdom of all that they have seen; I offer them my respect. Good morning, Grandfather Oak. Good morning, Grandmother Pine.

I grin at the young and fresh-faced Dogwoods, their butter-colored flowers open wide like a smile, and the delicate Willow waving shyly. I nod to the elegant Paper Birch leaning nonchantly into the breeze, smile at the dainty Japanese Maples, and almost applaud the scruffy Cedars, because I have a particular fondness for them and their deep, red hearts.

I say their names when I recognize them: Elm, Magnolia and Tulip Poplar, Ornamental Cherry and Arborvitae, Sweet Lilac and Ash. Viburnam, Sassafras, Catalpa, Linden, Grey Birch, Sycamore...I list them like a litany.

I could make poems out of tree-words found in a glossary of tree-terms; to me the words sound like a secret language:
Blade, bract, clingstone, conifer, freestone, midrib, palmate, rootstock...they weave together an incantation of growth.

This morning I approached a grand and imposing tree near the edge of the road, and my steps slowed as I took in the large orange X on its solid mid-trunk. What mark is this? As I neared, I saw a sign, an official town notice, tacked to its bark: Tree Slated for Removal. My heart clutched. Poor, doomed tree. I mourned the impending loss in advance, my hand on its blackened girth. It was clearly ill, discoloration running up its length, but it still radiated strength, solid under my palm. I stood still there for a moment, so I could spend time with this tree, this tree I had been warned would soon be gone. I tried to take a picture with my mind, to transplant it from its roots to its crown, so it could grow in my imagination, not be forgotten, always be honored.

Then, I said goodbye.



I said it out loud.