Goodbye, Summer

School starts next week, and we snuck in a last weekend trip to the lake. It had rained most of the night before, and the morning was overcast when we set out. But the sun came out just after we got to the park. The weather must have scared away most folks, so we had the whole place to ourselves.

I haven't used my camera much this summer, and I enjoyed the process of getting my "camera" eyes readjusted. At first I saw the stones on the beach as an amorphous gray pile. Then my eyes snagged on the man-made debris: a spent gun shell, a bandaid, a bottle cap. The colors and patterns of the natural world finally emerged. Ladybugs flitted between stones (which I didn't manage to get a good photo of). Shells and seaweed formed abstract tableaux.


Shells nestled among the stones and a piece of weathered red brick.


A strand of seaweed framed a stone glossy from a receding wave.



A delicate branch rested on a stone frame.


Seaweed arched across a stone.


Not far away, a caterpillar formed a fuzzy arch across the wood chips on the playground.


It was a quiet goodbye to summer.

Settling In

I have done a lot of driving this summer. Lovely drives down country lanes bordered by vegetation so lush that my car moves through tunnels of green.

Down the country lane that leads to the county fairgrounds, I admire the barn that has been rooted on its Maryland hill for at least a century. Nature and the elements have gently altered it. Trees have grown to tower over it. Its boards have weathered to silver in places. The farmer has tweaked it: a cinder block office has been tacked onto the side; a new tractor parked alongside; a tin awning added to shade stalls. Surface changes only: the barn's frame--its essence--remains intact and functional. More than that, though, the evidence of the slow accumulation of refinements means that the barn belongs.

I have to admit that as I pass the barn I feel envy mixed in with the admiration. Not envy in the sense of wanting to possess what the farmer has. But envy for the barn's quiet, sure knowledge of belonging.

It has been a little over a month since we moved to Maryland, and I am still feeling an acute sense of dislocation, a sense of not being home. This is my 12th move in my 43 years, the 8th move as an adult. I know the drill--how to pack and unpack and dispose of boxes, update addresses, register kids in school, make friends, scout out grocery stores and restaurants and doctors and hair stylists. Those are the surface changes that are meant to take hold and root me in a new place. But the roots are slow in taking hold since I know that this is only a temporary move, a one-year caesura in our life back in New York.

So I'm betwixt and between, and feeling uneasy about it. But I'm also trying to hold on to the idea that this in-between-ness could hold some rewards as well: a heightened appreciation for all of the amazing things in my old home and in my new one. And, most importantly, that what I have right here with me--my family most of all--is all that I need to feel at home.

Il Dolce Far Niente (The Sweet Doing of Nothing)

"Our culture aids and abets us with the expectation promoted by the information and communications industry that more information is always better and always potentially available. Therefore, we must always be available to receive any such piece of information that is sent, solicited or not. If we succumb to this illusion, we cooperate in maintaining a persistent dividedness of mind and heart. We deaden and numb our feelings, we fail to ask the deeper more essential questions. We are so busy sending and receiving fragments of information that we can increase our tolerance for violence, escalate our consumerism, and impair our compassion."
--Janet Ruffing,"Resisting the Demon of Busyness," Spiritual Life, Summer 1995.

I have an internal alarm bell that goes off when I am too busy being busy to pay attention to the important things. What trips the alarm is my driving. When I honk at a driver who cuts off my forward progress, as I did on Sunday, then I know I am trying to go too fast, do too much, push past the pace that's comfortable for me.

This spring with all its busyness and planning has fragmented my attention. I need a little break from the inspiring but constant flow of information and entertainment--blogging, Flickr, Twitter, Facebook, ipod, etc.--to create a few more small spaces in my life for quiet contemplation, for the sweet doing of nothing.

Have a Happy May!

Growth Rings

I am so thrilled that Jackie, paper artisan and photographer--and true friend of my heart--just opened up an Etsy shop, smoothpebble studio, to share her papercuts. Jackie's papercuts were what inspired me to try my hand at the difficult craft, where finding that sweet spot of just the right pressure on the paper is the elusive goal. When you reach that point, it's all bliss and flow, and Jackie's certainly there. It's been exciting to see Jackie's own patterns emerge. She's uploaded a great selection of her papercuts to her Flickr Papercut/paper gallery, which is so inspiring.

Jackie snuck in the opening of her Etsy shop while I was away at Easter, but when I returned I immediately snapped up this tree ring snip that I had admired on her blog. Her careful cuts reveal the heart of the tree, its growth moving outward like ripples from its core. Those rings tell the story of the good years and bad, a layering of wet years interwoven with drought, when growth shows up as a thinner line. Those rings give the tree its strength, a core that is shells within shells within shells packed so tightly around themselves that the resulting strong, upright trunk holds in even its branches thrashing in the wind.

The papercut speaks to me of the parallel path of personal growth that Jackie and I have been on since we both started our blogs. Jackie's post, Self Love, expresses her search for authenticity and self-acceptance with her unique blend of honesty, grace, and humor.

In addition the growth rings snip, I have the honor of having Jackie's book, For the Beauty of the Earth, as my daily meditation on nature's patterns. The photographs are little epiphanies, wordless tributes to color, pattern, and, truly, the joy of life's unfolding. Watch the slideshow of Jackie's 365::2009 photographs, and you'll see what I mean.

Be sure to pay Jackie a visit to congratulate her on the shop opening. Tell her a little birdie says hello.

JOYStone: "Pure Joy Barely Contained"

My friend Zee--who leads Emma's Writing Circle, the weekly writing group I joined last summer--requested a Crewel Stone with the word "joy" on it for her sister Laura. Laura's middle name is Joy, and the stone would serve as both memory and promise.

"I think my sister would most love to have a purple stone with the word JOY on it, and a bit of abstract stitching around it, whatever moves you at the time your hand holds the needle," she wrote in an email. She shared the story of her sister Laura and her library card:

"When Laura was a little girl, probably 7 or 8, I went with her to the new library in our Bronx neighborhood; it was just an apartment in a big building that had been converted into a 'branch library.' We had to fill out forms to get new cards and then we went back the following day and our cards were all typed up and ready for us. Well, even then my sister had a terrible handwriting. So her card read Laura TOY instead of Laura JOY. She thought this was the funniest thing. She almost fell down from laughing so hard. This was a time when she was always laughing so hard that she almost fell over, the power of her own hilarity was that strong. EVERYTHING was funny to her, she was pure joy barely contained inside her skin. The librarian asked if she would like them to type up a new card for her and Laura was emphatic that she was THRILLED with her new identity as Laura Toy. She kept that card for YEARS and YEARS. I wonder if she might still have it; I'm going to have to ask her."

As I sketched some ideas for JOYstone, I thought about the intensity and energy that the word connotes. Joy is an intense physical response; it seems to flare up in an instant and can be gone just as quickly.

As Zee wrote, in its purest expression joy can barely be contained. I wanted the stitched joy to pulse with energy and spill over beyond the margins of the stone.

I chose the colors and beads to capture joy's intensity, transforming the stone into a jewel, which in fact the word "joy" is related to (joya in Spanish has the same Latin root). The ribbons around the stone represent flow and connection, how the expression of joy can flow through our bodies outward and connect ourselves with others, much like the sharing of stories in Zee's Writing Circle spreads joy all around.

The most unexpected aspect of JOYstone is how it feels. The raised crewel stitches, which I outlined with a double line of split stitches and then connected and covered with satin stitches, are soft ridges to the touch. A quick squeeze is a gentle reminder of joy, both the childhood kind that Zee described and the more mature kind that arises from "a sense of well-being or satisfaction" (Oxford English Dictionary) and engages body and spirit. I hope that as Laura Joy holds the stone in her hand, she feels the joy that I felt as I stitched it.

Happy Earth Day!

The land has been released from winter's suspended animation. Sap is flowing, and the crab apple's tight magenta blossoms are on the verge of mass release. Yesterday I noticed the first opened flowers. The delicate pink interior is a surprise. Opening releases their chromatic intensity, I guess.

Sun and clouds were playing with each other. They created a shifting dance of light and shadow underneath the crab apple tree.

As usual my social life seems to have picked up with spring's quickening. People want to shed their winter gear and gather together like the crab apple's branches thick with blossoms. It's tempting to get caught up in that busy-ness. To ignore my gardening duties or hire someone to tackle the tide of garlic mustard that needs to be tamed before it drowns out the more delicate wildflowers.

But I didn't. I spent a glorious morning weeding. And I noticed. The birds sang their conversations as I crouched in the shade of the chestnut tree. The sun warmed my shoulders, melting my muscles to the task at hand. And I caught the first open flower of the crab apple tree.

It made me wonder how many things I fail to notice in my rush to get things done. How many growing things that, in return for a little tending and attention, return that care with flowers that share their intensity for only a moment.

I hope that today you get a chance to dig in the dirt, plant a seed, or tend your garden. Happy Earth Day!

Les cadeaux de Nanou (Nanou's Gifts)

I think that someone has figured out how to package joy. Her name is Nanou, and she crafts the most beautiful gifts from paper, wood, stone, and yarn.



Inside this envelope of handmade paper woven with flower petals Nanou tucked a hand-sewn and hand-lettered card with an eloquent expression of friendship, one offered with a truly open heart. (There is magic sewn inside these cards made by Nanou.)



Each package offered delight, a perfect expression of Nanou's beauty, grace, and sensitivity to nature's treasures.




This serene Flapper Girl stone peeked out at me from a box covered with handmade paper. She sleeps inside a nest of airy wool. She is one of Nanou's many eloquent conversations between paper and stone.




Nanou looks at the natural world with a sense of wonder. She noticed and preserved the rounded lobes of this delicate leaf.




She sees the true spirits of the forest and clothes them as tokens of friendship and protection. She has created a family of Forest Friends whose stories she tells. I am so honored to have two of them come to live here with me. They rest atop the desk in my craft area, where they whisper funny tales of Nanou and her Forest Friends. And when I ask, they tell me that the one true secret to living a happy life is to see the world with a childlike sense of wonder and eyes wide open to its beauty, just like Nanou does.




Thank you, my beautiful friend, for the package of joy. Here is a song that I think you will enjoy.