Kind

I’m tired.

I know that I always try to find some inspiration in everyday things to pass along for my readers but wow, sometimes life is exhausting.

I’m tired of angry people.

I’m tired of paranoia to the point where everyone is suspect in some non existent crime of corruption.

I’m tired of people so callous about the natural world around them that they would destroy the breeding habitat of endangered birds instead of power washing the building when they leave their nests at the end of the season.  Whose weekly commentary is about getting rid of the birds.  They should see it as a privilege to have them there and take a few minutes to watch them.

I’m tired of policy changes that do not take into consideration the lives that are affected without any input from them.  Changes in policies they know nothing about but because they see themselves in positions of power, they feel a need to micromanage things that have worked for decades.  Stop, just stop.  Walk a mile in someone else’s shoes before making a knee jerk decision based on someone’s anonymous complaint.

I watched the trailer for the new movie coming out about Fred Rogers called “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood”  and wept at what we have lost. I think there are so many fears, so much anger that people have lost sight of the fact that our world would be a better place if they were kind.

Try to be kind, you have no idea what the people you talk to today are going through, a kind word can go a long way.

 

 

Whining

I’ve been sick. Sicker than I’ve been in quite some time thanks to a visit to pick my grandson up from daycare.  I forgot what a hotbed of germs those places can be and the fact that once your own children fly the coop your immunity goes with it.

I had a good nights sleep last night, felt rested and was thankful because I knew there was snow waiting to be cleared.  The driveway was cleared at 4:45 this morning and I have appointments and work tonight.

Peggy called me this morning to tell me some loom tales and offer her sympathy.  Taking care of it all by myself couldn’t be good, I assured her I was fine.

I grabbed my keys on the way out to feed the goats and chickens.  There was a crust of ice on top of the 6 inches of snow/sleet that had fallen overnight.  Heavy shoveling.  I opened the car door, inserted and turned the key – nothing – deader than dead.  I have a little jump box so figured I’d jump it so the car could thaw out.  Had to clean the car off first, my battery is in the trunk.  Put the cables on, go turn the key, nothing.  I called Bill and he told me I should charge the battery with the charger for a couple of hours.

Ugh . . . . . . .

I shoveled through the bank in front of the garage to get the charger out.  Shoveled to the car to get the charger close enough.  Dragged the charger to the car and searched for an extension cord.

At this point I’m thinking to myself – assisted living has never looked so good.

I fed the goats, then cleared a narrow path to the barn.  The boys were causing enough of a ruckus just knowing I was outside.  The shoveling was slow, I was out of breath and thinking maybe I’ll just lie in this snow bank for a few minutes til I feel better.

Again – assisted living never looked so good.

As I was finishing up shoveling out the chicken coop I could hear the thunk, thunking of a pileated woodpecker in the trees next to the driveway, then heard it call from across the road.  I looked around at how beautiful it was with the ice on the trees and noted that the temperature was milder than usual and there was no wind.  Chickadees were in the trees waiting for the seeds I toss out on my way to the coop and I reached in to get the warm egg laid by the only hen that seems to be laying at the moment.  Those eggs are precious little gifts right now.

Okay, assisted living wouldn’t be that good.

My sister and I often talk about how long we will be able to stay in our old, drafty, cold houses by ourselves.  I’m fortunate to have help on the weekends but the weekdays can sometimes be a reality check.  Honestly I didn’t mind the physical aspect of the work this morning it was the mental exercises that had to take place in order to do what needed to be done.  These were things outside of my usual daily routine and my brain just was not in problem solving mode.  Let’s hope the car starts and the day improves from here.

 

 

New Year

To some observers (including my family I’m sure), this may look like a jumbled mess of unrelated items that could easily be boxed up and brought to the transfer station.  In looking at the photo I can see where you might come to that conclusion but every single thing has someone or some memory attached to it.  It’s not a shrine – it’s a catalyst to stories of my life for the past 60+ years.  Almost every item evokes a pleasant memory for me. The purple bear I made while sitting with my husband’s grandfather in the hospital during his last illness, not a sad time at all, but my hands always need to be busy.  The velvet it’s made of came from a fellow bear maker and mentor in England.  There are glass marbles and weights made for me. Vintage sewing objects from sewing relatives – there’s often a lot to learn by opening a woman’s sewing box. A family clock with a child’s plastic dog on it, an old motorcycle license plate, bone buttons.

The objects I hold most dear are the images.  Some of them I must confess are from people I will never know, the small collection in a box made of photographs are vintage prints of children with dogs, not always easy to find but endearing.

Then there are two larger images.  The one on the mantle was one acquired at the memorial service of a dear friend.  There were boxes and boxes of his images that his wife thought would be better off in his friends homes.  It’s a posterized image of a cemetery – kind of ridiculous in a way and says everything anyone could ever say to me about its maker.

The newest addition I hung a little over a week ago.  It is stunning to me in its perfection – the print to the framing to the signature. Paul has now been gone almost 5 years.  This package was brought to my office by his widow and her words were “You’re either going to love me or hate me for this.”  I confess there were some mixed emotions in unwrapping it – strong emotions.  A little like reopening a wound, but I understood the intent behind the gift and after looking at it for quite some time I placed it with all my other memories.

I think the story attached to this won’t necessarily be about the maker, it will be about the giver.  We met at photography school 40 years ago and the only thing that kept us in contact with each other at all was Paul until we began working together about two years ago.  Now I see her almost daily and value her friendship in so many ways . . . so many.

Life is weird.  I think it just get weirder as you get older.  Maybe you have to pay attention but as I age so many things seem to have come full circle.  People you have let go come back in various ways and for me it has all been good.

In thinking about New Year’s resolutions I thought the best I could do was to make more of an effort here.  There are so many positives in an otherwise negative world that I need to bring them to light – for me.  If you find any value in it follow along,  I’ll try to keep it interesting.

2017 in Review

Every year, upon reflection, I realize what a charmed life I lead.  I live in a beautiful place, have wonderful family and friends, a roof over my head, hot and cold running water, good food on the table and the company of a charming menagerie of animals.  Life has been busy and the blog has suffered because of it, at least in the amount of time that has been dedicated to writing.  Something I should work on.  As you all know I am a visual person.  I try to take a photograph a day and my review consists of my favorites for the year.  All for different reasons.

January

 

February

March

 

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

Thanks so much for being a part of all of this and a happy, blessed New Year to all!

 

 

 

 

 

Review 2015

Every year I post a year in review that is largely visual in nature.  It seems that this year may prove to be different.  There have been so many profound changes that the photographs would only just scratch the surface.  I’ll throw a few in for good measure though, I can’t resist.

150830 Morning Mist

After living with my father for a year and a half I put him back into assisted living.  It was a huge learning curve for me – but I learned that I cannot live with negativity day in and day out.  Living under a black cloud only drags you into that black abyss and it becomes more and more difficult to climb your way out.  In my heart I know it was the right thing to do for everyone involved yet on some level it feels like failure.  I’m working on getting over that in ways that feed my soul.

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Living here helped me maintain my sanity.  The close proximity to nature was a balm many times during each and every day.  Being able to see magnificent sunrises so many mornings began my days in a positive way.  It was a summer of rainbows – every day it seemed .  Hiking trails at the park, new trails in old familiar places brought discovery and appreciation anew.  Let’s face it, it’s quiet here, it smells good and nobody bugs you.  What more could the introvert in me want?

150726 Amanda's Wedding

Then there were weddings, lots of them.  My favorite was the marriage of my daughter – here.  Ten people, surrounded by my gardens in full bloom.  My favorite moment – the family humming Pachelbel’s Canon in D while Amanda and her father walked down the little makeshift aisle, thanks Cait for getting it rolling.  Although Amanda and Yusuf have been together for 9 years and we all knew this was coming it still felt like we were giving her away.  It was a line for me, both joyous and sad.

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As if all of this wasn’t enough November 11th was the birth of our first grandchild.  A boy who dear husband Bill never thought he was going to see (and now has big plans for).  Another shift in my life – from mother to grandmother.  I’m not sure how it affects other people but the generational shift has always been a profound one for me.  When Amanda was born it took me a while to wrap my head around going from daughter to mother, I’m still getting use to the idea of going from mom to grandma.  He is wonderful and I’m enjoying watching them grow into a loving family.

150109 Warp

All through this the constant has been craft.  The ability to make and do things with my hands is the thread.  It feeds me – no, it is a necessity. If I wasn’t able to create something, on a daily basis, I would have sunk into that deep, dark hole long ago.  It sustains me.  It seems odd to me in some ways to admit this.  I have been a crafter all of my life.  My modus operandi is to learn a new craft, work it to what I deem the best I am capable of (more of a plateau really) and move on to the next craft.  This year was all about weaving – again.  It was the realization that I’ve been searching my entire life for what my hands knew how to do.  Weaving has connected me to my past, to people I remember and loved the most.  It is something that will probably take the rest of my life to move towards perfection.  Meanwhile it calms me and helps me to reflect on daily life, meditation.  Something we all need and I daresay find in little things we do.  We just need to recognize it.

151021 Baskets

The new year is promising in so many ways.  Growth is what it’s all about.  I’ll keep on sharing my skills and insights.  I’ll watch my family and friends embrace the changes in their lives and hold them all close because really, that’s what it’s all about.

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Projects Ending and Beginning

150529 Krokbragd (2)

I just realized how very long it’s been since I’ve been here.  Life is full.

The room renovation is almost complete – crown moulding needs to go up and to do that I need to learn to cope.  Fortunately there are only really the four corners to worry about.  We’ll see how that goes.  The room is so much better.  The bad juju has all but disappeared.  Funny what a lot of paint will do.

My latest krokbragd is off of the loom, I’m currently doing a woven edge.  It’s slow going – more so because there are so many other things that need attention.   First a couple of comments on this project.  I used rug wool from Brassard in Canada for the weft in this.  It worked up quickly but didn’t pack as well as the last krokbragd I wove using Harrisville Shetland.  The heathered yarn in this is beautiful though.  I thought I planned this project well as far as color was concerned.  I had everything lined up and numbered, bobbins wound, I was proud of myself because I’m such a wing it kind of person.  Well, none of it really went according to plan.  The time came to change over to the next color and I would just pick something different.  I’ve decided that these mats/rugs are to be woven in a more organic way.  They evolve while on the loom.  I planned on 8 colors, bought 11 colors from Brassard, then a third of the way into it picked up some rug yarn elsewhere to work in.  Because of the weight of the yarn this is definitely something I can see on the floor.  All in all it’s quite lovely – I can live with it.  All of you creatives out there know what I’m talking about, that’s really high praise.

My tomatoes, cucumbers and squash plants are at the end of their hardening off period.  I will probably till the garden for the second time tomorrow (around the rows of potatoes) and plant the beginning of next week.  The weather here has been kind of crazy.  Hot, no rain save a torrential downpour a couple of days ago.  I hate to plant things and have to water them everyday.  Other years it’s so wet and cold I’ve planted things multiple times.  It’s never perfect.  How dull life would be if it was.

 

Wise Words

Siberian Iris

I visited with an old friend the other day.  I see her much more often now that I am in Rowe than I ever saw of her in the past 35 years or so that we’ve known each other.  She has gone through some major life changes in the past few months.  She is a wise woman.  We talked about others that we know who are dealing with life changes of their own (myself included).  Some are retiring and moving away from the place that has been their home for over 50 years.  Others are taking care of aging parents, their children are moving out or they’re recovering from the loss of a loved one.

 

She said “You need to learn to love your new life.”

 

Profound words those.  We are all hit with changes – some predictable, some not.  For me, the changes were seen and prepared for in the best way I knew how.  That doesn’t mean there aren’t things that are happening that I hadn’t anticipated.  When life changes are made (or happen) it can take a while to truly get the big picture of how those changes are going to affect you and yours.  It takes awhile to get into that new routine.

I confess to be floundering a bit here.  There’s so much to do and so many of the decisions have to be made in somewhat of a vacuum. The idea of being in a situation where I can work on producing the kind of life I only saw myself doing after “retirement” has been a bit overwhelming.  I think I thought I would have a more concrete idea of what I was going to do than I do.  Things are getting done, not necessarily in the time or way I thought they would.  I just have to roll with it.

In realizing that things are never what they seem or intended those words about learning to love my new life were exactly what I needed to hear.  Decisions were made based on the realities of my life whether good or bad – this is the way life is.  Learning to love it – working on loving it – is probably the most important thing I can do to have things be just as they should be.

 

 

 

What We’re Called to Do

140521 Back FortyWhen I was 18 people told me that I needed a plan, a plan for my life.  My friends went off to college, confident in the choices they had made for their life’s work – nuclear engineer, mechanical engineer, music education, nursing.  I had taken business courses in high school knowing that I wouldn’t be going to college – wasn’t in the cards for this girl.  This was back in the day where if you knew how to type, take dictation and do rudimentary bookkeeping you could land a pretty good job. Yes, I’m really dating myself here.

Although I took and kept an office job for a few years I knew that it was not what I wanted to do.  Little did I realize that taking that path initially I would always be working in an office in one capacity or another for a good deal of my life.  I’m an excellent multi-tasker and can be pretty well-organized.  I manage my time well if I have to.

I went to school for photography when I was 22 and again was told I needed a plan for my life.  “Your days are numbered” said to me by my teacher and mentor still whispers in the back of my brain on many occasions.  Good words, words that really should be heeded.

Fast forward 35 years and I have to say I’m just beginning to formulate what it is I should be doing.  Honestly, I may never truly know but I think you have to look at your history, your ancestry, your genetics. I come from a long, long line of farming and textiles, both of which require good problem solving capabilities. (Although I sometimes think the biggest problem I have is figuring out what it is I want to do).

I think many people (especially in recent years) choose a career based on their likes and capabilities.  Some are blessed with extraordinary gifts and are pushed or sent in a certain direction.  Somewhere along the way I believe everyone undergoes a “crisis of faith” so to speak.  That moment (or moments) when we wonder just what the heck were we thinking.  Upon reflection we either realize that what we are doing is the only thing we should be or know in our hearts it’s time to get out.  Taking action is the next big step and that always contains the fear that you are not listening close enough.  You just have to leap.

My move to Rowe permanently was really precipitated by finance but the reality is that this is what I really should be doing.  It allows me to create on many different levels and that is who I am intrinsically.  To sit in an office, no matter who’s it was, was killing me.  I thought it then, I know it now. I’ve had the slate of Fort Pelham Farm for a few years but now I have the time to form it into a thing of beauty both physically and spiritually.

Following in the footsteps of those I knew and loved makes what I’m doing special to me. I am learning to live much the way my ancestors have.  Growing my own food, weaving my own cloth, knitting my own sweaters. We all create our own happiness minute by minute and I’ve been given a new opportunity. People shake their heads and wonder, at least those in the urban area I just left.  I’m certain the tide is shifting where some will understand but you should know I have never, ever done what people expected me to do.  I’d rather have them watch and be amused.

On Blogging

White CleomeIt was just a little over a year ago that I spent a day with Jenna Woginrich, Jon Katz and Jim Kunstler at Jenna’s house on a snowy day listening and talking about the way of words.  Their creative process, their commitment to producing material that is fired out into the ether for anyone to read.  The baring of souls in some respect.  I made a commitment that day that I would write something on this blog every weekday for a year.  For the most part I did it.

This has been an interesting endeavor.  I have a few followers (more than I ever expected), many of who comment here.  I have cyber friends that are like-minded.  One of the most interesting things for me is the number of people who tell me in person that they enjoy reading my blog.  That makes me laugh a little bit but it also adds another little dimension to what this started out to be.

This has been a difficult year on a personal level.  I have tried to keep everything here positive even when things weren’t that way in real life.  If I keep the story going it will become a reality – and in some ways it has.  It forces me to look at the little things that make up each day and pay particular notice to the gifts that are right in front of me.  I like to point them out here so the blog has made me much more aware of the good things happening around me even if they are very small.  I’m always looking.

It has helped me consider photography in a way that I had not for many years.  Images were the way I made a living for a long time and it seemed exhausting to me to take the camera out to capture a sunrise or the birds in the garden.  I made the commitment to post a photo a day with the blog and it helped me to see again.  Not only do I listen for the little gifts I look for them as well.

So my year commitment is over but it will continue without the urgency of a New Year’s resolution.  I have found that looking for the gifts and sharing them here has become a minor addiction and one should never overlook the good things no matter how small.

 

A Love Letter

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I’ve been given time alone for Mother’s Day.  Doesn’t sound like fun to many people but sometimes being alone can be quite an awesome treat.

I remembered these two photographs earlier this morning and wanted to share.  They were taken in 1990 by a dear friend of mine.  I think I had her take them for a Father’s Day gift.  They are also two of just a handful of photographs taken of me with the girls over the years. I treasure them, they speak of the happiness that was ours all the time they were growing up.

They’ve turned into wonderful, brilliant, kind women.  I’m more proud of them than anything else in my life.

On Mother’s Day children come together to celebrate the woman who brought them up.  I’ve never had a real fondness for Mother’s Day only because I’ve always felt that my children were such a gift to me.  For years they were my photographic muse.  They grew up in costumes, in studios, at parks – always with a camera in front of them.  The yearly Christmas card was what I strove for each year, anxiously waiting for the reviews.

I watched them go through their childhood, teenage and young adult years with joy and trepidation.  We all know how hard life can be and you silently hope that your kids won’t ever go through some of the things you’ve been through.  You try to guide them in a direction that will make them happy and content adults.  You encourage each one of them in their interests, nurturing those little sparks.

I hear many of my younger friends with small children of their own now talk about the annoyances of day to day life and I remember it was hard balancing everything in your daily lives.  I want you to know it’s all worth it, it may not seem so now, but it is.

So my children are now adults, I’ve been through the empty nest, I am growing in a different direction.  My life is actually the accumulation of many smaller lives, I think we are all like that.  I see mine as sort of a pie chart sectioned off, it’s not a whole yet but I can see each section as a different phase – who I was with, what I was doing.  They are all in different colors.  The biggest part of my pie chart at the moment is motherhood and it’s bright red.  It stands out.  It was the best thing ever.

So this mother’s day I’m not celebrating mothers, I’m celebrating children, my own. For without them this day would not exist.

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