she likes butter

...indeed, I do like butter. Do you remember playing this game in your youth? - where you hold a buttercup under your chin, and if the color yellow is reflected, you are said to like butter. I had forgotten all about the game, until I found this little buttercup nestled in the grass. I love when chance experiences conjure up long-forgotten memories, don't you?


Try looking at the world from a different height - get down low in the grass, and see what you notice. These beautiful Quaker Ladies are multiplying in our yard, just where it meets the woods. In looking at these tiny wild flowers at eye's height, my children and I imagine we are seeing through the eyes of a little wood nymph.


...counting the rings of this fallen tree, felled after it had died...thinking about how it lived here in these woods, for many, many years, before I called this place home, before I was even born.

A few things I am cherishing on this long and languid holiday weekend:

*the scent of dirt and grass on my kids' skin
*the smell of barbecue in the air
*a grill-charred hotdog smothered in ketchup with smores for desert
*a mojito garnished with a fresh slice of lime and freshly chopped mint (be careful, these go down way too easily)
*SUN
*doing nothing

simple

These past few days have been crazy busy, and I am left feeling like I have run a marathon. You know what I am talking about - we all have those kinds of weeks. I am grateful for everything in my life, every opportunity, and often I am at my best when juggling a lot of projects, but in order for me to thrive I also need rest. I love analogies, so don't laugh - but this week felt like an episode of the Iron Chef - running around in a frenzied mode, cooking up creative dishes against the clock, ideas coming quickly, bouncing off of each other, fueling each other...sweat, even body aches... the countdown 5, 4, 3...to the buzzer - time to stop, reflect, and enjoy the meal, so to speak.

I will be trying to do that this weekend.

Some of you may recognize this photo of my apple tree - it's not really mine of course, in fact, it's not even on my property, but just at the end of the dirt road I live on. Something about this tree always resounds within me and reminds me how to be...how to just be.

And before I hit the 'publish post' button, I have some news to share. The incredibly delightful, talented, brilliant Jenny Doh has started up her own blog! Be sure to visit her here. Also, a very big thank you to the talented mixed-media artist and creative life coach, Carla Kurt, for interviewing me on her fascinating blog Wings 4 You Coaching. The interview can be found here. One last note of business: Planning for ConvenZioNE 2009 is already underway. I will be teaching at the 2008 retreat this August, as well as in April 2009. Be sure to stop by and check out all the retreats have to offer - from incredible workshops to dinner events, a vendor show, and gallery night. The keynote speaker for 2009, will be Michele Beschen, host of the HGTV and DIY network television show, B Original.

in different light

There are a couple of old abandoned homes in my town that I am attracted to whenever I drive by - they seem to be softly weeping. Maybe I am imposing living attributes on non-living, inanimate objects...what's that called again? - I know there's a literary term for it...but perhaps I am not imagining things, and this house really does want to be saved. The energies of those who once inhabited it are what I am feeling, I think. If anything, it is a sad thing to see a piece of history perishing, especially when the history of the US does not go all that far back in time.


I noticed that the farmhouse looked very different to me in the context of Spring - with life renewing itself all around the house, from the wild, overgrown grasses, to the fragrant apple blossoms and birdsong...in this light, I felt a sense of hope for the house. When I looked at this same empty dwelling in the context of late Fall, with fallen leaves on the ground, lifeless and brown, grasses turned to straw, and empty tree branches twisting in the wind, the outlook seemed bleak....so perhaps that is a lesson to be learned, however simple it may be, that we can chose to look at all aspects of our lives within any kind of context that we wish to. We can be hopeful or we can chose the opposite of hope.


I do hope that someone can save this house before it is no longer salvageable...one can hope...

“To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.” ~author unknown

“Those who wish to sing always find a song.” ~author unknown

"Hope never abandons you; you abandon it.” ~George Weinberg

connected

Here's what I'm thinkin'. When I read a book that touches me in a deep way, where a passage rings true, I feel like it becomes a part of who I am. Even if I don't remember the exact details, or the particulars of what moved me, I know that they somehow become a part of my conscience...a part of me - leaving me forever changed.

When I come across old, old books, I think about how they must have been passed around many times, changing the lives of individuals in much the same way...and when I handle and read these old books and am moved by a passage or two, nearly over 100 years later...wow...that's so powerful, don't you think? Is that what we call the collective unconscious?

We really are all connected.


I found these books at my town dump this weekend.


This is a French/English translation dictionary. The owner (perhaps not the original owner) stamped ink stars on the outer edges of the pages and on the cover page. He added letter tabs to each section, for easy manipulation of the book and pasted a typewritten page of his frequently used words/phrases on the inside of the front cover. Either he had a stay in France (or was a Frenchman in the US), or he was French Canadian living in Maine - I think the latter, as he writes the French first, followed by the translation in English - fascinating to me.

object energy

I wonder what name was given to this antique doll, by a little girl so many decades ago. Did the child take her to bed each night or place her in a dolly crib? She must have been a part of countless tea parties. You can just tell that this doll has a story to tell. I wonder how she wound up in the antique store, and if her original owner is still on this earth somewhere? - highly doubtful, unless she is in spirit form.


I was intrigued by this old pram in the window. Black is such an eerie color for a baby carriage, but I'm thinking it must have been elegant and expensive in its day.


These baby/child shoes are in perfect shape. I can just imagine a little girl wearing them for a family photo session - I bet there is a cab card out there in the world, featuring a child wearing these very shoes. When I see old things like these shoes, the pram, and the doll, it marvels me to think that these items are still here, and their owners are either very old, or more likely, have passed on. Somehow the objects still retain their energies though, and hint at stories from the past.


Can you just imagine the beautiful, thick long hair that was smoothed by this old brush?...and the face that was reflected in the hand mirror?


I love old country roads and paths - where do they lead to? What are their stories? I found this one close to my house, just off a country road. And down the road a bit, I visited one of the several little cemeteries in my town.


I wonder what Albert A. was like - he only lived to be 18.


I was so attracted to the old metal fence that encased the cemetery - perhaps it is made of iron? The patina of it is textured and thick - beautiful.

moth to a flame

My husband's Mother's Day gift to me this weekend was two days all to myself, to do whatever I wished - he took care of the kids and all things domestic, while I slept in, took long hot showers, lingered over coffee, played in my art studio, and took some trips to favorite places. I returned home on Saturday evening to my most favorite dinner in the whole world - steamers with drawn butter, lobster, a nice glass of chardonnay, and classic white cake with vanilla icing. Is he amazing, or what?


Of course I took my camera with me as I visited a handful of my favorite haunts. I am like a moth to a flame when it comes to antique shops - padlock the wallet! Since I can't afford all of these amazing antiques (plus, we don't have the room in our small house), the next best thing is photographing them. The beautiful lacy dress in the window caught my eye - it looked so ethereal in the afternoon light.


I had a snack at one of my favorite locales, the Frontier Cafe, which is a cafe, cinema, and art gallery all wrapped into one. I had a cup of sweet potato ginger soup - the ginger was so zesty, and complimented the sweet potato. I celebrated with a glass of Chilean Chardonnay - peachy taste with oaky overtones.


Then I took my little relaxed self down the hall to the installation art gallery. There was an installation by well-renowned Maine artist John Bisbee. I had a nice chat with a Scottish gentleman who was overseeing the exhibit - I am always eager to learn more about the lives of people from various countries - it really opens up new pathways of thinking about things.


Here I am settling into the plush cushions of the couch at The Little Dog coffee shop, to enjoy a vanilla cap sprinkled with cinnamon. I gazed out the window for a good, long while, just people watching.


...checking out the art on their walls. Very cool collaged painting by Jo Goiran - but I think she looks like she needs a nice long weekend to herself.


...looking at some more antiques, and wishing I had this particular shelf in my kitchen.


The red chair had several layers of peeling paint - there is something so special about an object that has come to look like that through natural aging.

Could I have asked for a better weekend? No siree.

Moment

Warm sun, sweet grass, and a dreamy pillow for my head made of wildflowers called Quaker Ladies. I could have stayed like this all afternoon, but of course it could only be for a moment..."Push me on the swing Mommy." came sailing through the air.