sight~
kimicon’s photos have me captivated in an endearing, far away place that also seem so familiar. her polaroids especially capture and delight me. (why, oh why have they stopped making sx-70 film?) i love that flickr has brought me to see the everyday magic occurring in people’s lives throughout the world. (the one above ismy snack on polaroid.)
smell~
spring air. fresh early morning or cooling early evening drifting through the neighborhood on bike or foot with my boys. note to self not yet fulfilled: obtain a clothesline for drying laundry in the sunshine. inhale.
taste~
some sweet, soft baked, white chocolate chip cookies m brought home to me on a bribe last night. sometimes i just have a craving, and that desire to taste a particular food is so incredibly specific that i enjoy the hunger (the waiting) that’s pleasant with the hope of satisfaction.
touch~
if ever one had a sensibility towards a common object, it would be me and my quilt. soft and well loved, its muted colors takes the title as one of my most prized possessions. run a finger along the seams, notice all the patterns that my friend collected just for me, hide under it on inner rainy days, cuddle with my boys, wrap it around my shoulders on the lawn with my nose in a book, it’s always there. my dignified version of blankie.
hear~
caught one one of my favorite musicians, irish damien rice, on austin city limits last night. his emotionally honest voice, haunting strings and harmonies are so eloquent. he reminds me that “music is what feelings sound like.” listen to him and indulge in longing, bittersweet lyrics and melancholy sound.
(my favorite photo of max, his scribbles and little people i love. the following was found this morning, scribbled on a plain lined paper in my old planner from last fall)
9.12.05
(while driving in the car) mommy? do you want to talk about daddy? ok. if i cry, he’ll be mad. and if i get out of my bed, he’ll give me a spanking.
(at target passing another mommy) mommy, does that grill (girl) have two babies? max doesn’t have any brother or sister.
(looking at his fingers) this is a little brother finger and this is his brother!
elmo’s NOT a monster. he’s just an elmo!
9.13.05
i think it’s gonna rain mommy. the sun eats dinner, then he has a bubble bath, then the luna puts him to bed!
(while playing his toy piano) mommy? will you sing? now sing in spanish!
9.16.05
(after getting out of the bubble bath) can i get a big towel now? i need a BIG towel. daddy’s a really big guy, he needs a BIG towel. can i be like daddy when i get big and grow up?
you’ve got to see this. only shown during (vancouver) daylight, so come back if she’s not on her nest…
decisions, 4″ x 6″ mixed media painting
why do you create? is it because you can? or because you need to?
(((i need to)))
the sun has been out more often, but it’s a misleading light since the wind bites with a courtesy call of the season just left behind. but i’m devoted to let mother nature bring on her charms and unfold the beauty that was dormant all winter. i’m waiting for the right moment to plant some sweet peas from helen’s garden sent to me from new zealand. new spring inspired items are cropping up in my shop. baby lambs running to their mother play in a grassy yard in williamsburg, here in virginia. antique keys are sent to me from france with love for my growing collection and accidentally sit on top of a new buttercream skirt on my dresser. the renewal, rebirth, the fresh air is all contagious and i want to sell all my belongings but what will fit inside a small suitcase and escape somewhere exotic. lately all these travel books have me feeling antsy. other lands and places, anywhere but here syndrome has me wanting to be an escape artist.
jump is now available in 9″ x 12″ prints at my shop!
“time for the unknown. time to answer the question dante faced in the divine comedy: what now to do in order to grow?” ~ frances mayes
somewhere along the way, the routine of life takes over and i find myself craving something unfamiliar. it’s a funny thing, change. sometimes it comes boldly, and sometimes its tiny. but it’s always there, nagging and encouraging me. it’s the only constant thing, change. do the thing that scares you. walk this way. go here. but its safe here! i point out to that silly little voice. and continue retreating in the map of places that i only need to visit. x marks the spot here, here, and no where else. there, it’s settled. and i think i’m left alone again.
but that little voice is tricky, she is calm and resolved and very wise. sometimes i wonder where she comes from.
can you tell i’m excited? i love the library. i’m in charge of planning the sites in rome, but i want to cheat and ask if anyone has somewhere that wouldn’t be in the guidebooks that we can’t miss. places to eat, shop, see?
today my max turns four years old. where has the time gone? its melted into days of laughter, driving little cars and building block towers, tickles, encouragement, happiness. when i think of max, i feel the gratification of living the most satisfying accomplishment and creation yet. being a mother has forced me outside of myself, and given me so many reasons to be content in the moment. the minute i found that he was coming into our lives, the unexplainable rush to become someone stood still. i was someone to him, and that is a miracle.
“in the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” ~margaret atwood
