Little Scraps of Magic

Pretty in Pink

     

Don't you just want to bury your nose in these? You know they'll tickle, but that's okay. They're irresistible!

Novemberis peeking around the corner, and these gorgeous blossoms - photographed just a few weeks ago at a Farmers' Market - evoke summer.

Leaves are falling here...it's like a dance as they swirl and loop downward. It's literally raining leaves of all hues - yellows, oranges, reds, and browns. They crunch and crackle as you walk over and through them. They're October's last hurrah. She's going out in a blaze of glory, and I love that thought.  I love this part of fall, and I dread the growing dark and sleepy gray skies.

It's October's last "Pink Thursday." Life comes at you fast as the saying goes. It not only comes by you "fast," but it's gone before you know it.

My sisters, brother, and I have participated in the Mother's Day Breast Cancer March in Philadelphia the last several years. If you want to see "pink" that's the place to do it. The very first year we marched, we simply stood in a sea of women. Rotating 360 degrees, all I could see were women in pink. Young, old, healthy, frail, but each and every one smiling. Women pushed others in wheelchairs. Other held someone else as she walked...someone so determined to be there, not for herself, but for each and every woman fighting the toughest battle of her life. Women laughed and cried together and it was truly one of the most moving and powerful sights I've witnessed. And, it never grows weaker. Each and every year, I'm moved to tears, for my mom and for myself, for every woman there whose shirt bears a picture of a lost loved one.

So, mom, once more, I'd like to say - Here's to you. I love you and I miss you.

 

Clinging to the Vine, Letting Go of the Monkey Bars

Autumn seems to be a sort of menopausal lady; she runs hot and cold, and is such a mixture of contradictions.You never quite know what she's going to be up to next.

She was out in full force yesterday - mountains painted in a gamut of colors right along side vines withering and dying off.

Tucked here and there yesterday, among all the vines at Philip Carter WInery, I spotted a few clumps of these grapes.  One part of me admired their sheer grit and determination, but another part of me knew they'd never be harvested, never get to realize their full potential.

About three a.m. this morning, their image flashed into my mind, and I began to make connections. It's amazing what a sleep deprived mind can do!

I thought about Patti Digh's wonderful book, Life Is A Verb, and a little section entitled, "Let Go of the Monkey Bars." Patt writes about the letting go that has to take place before the next bar is in your hand...the letting go that leaves us so vulnerable, because we're never quite sure what lies between the two bars.

And, then, I thought of the monarchs on Chincoteague a few weekends ago. I first saw them literally clinging to the yarrow for their life.  The very wind that would literally carry them on their way was just too much for them at that moment in time. So, cling they did.

So, I'm in the autumn of my life, I think. (I certainly hope that it's not my winter!) Parts of me are clinging, and parts of me are letting go and flying from monkey bar to monkey bar! These past two years have been one change after another - changes in how I teach and how I assess progress, in putting my art out there a bit more, in taking a chance with rejection. I'm figuring out technology in the classroom and in my art. I'm figuring out that both math and life are rarely black and white. I had to be dragged into the blogging world, and I avoided trying to link to other blogs like it was the H1N1 virus. Yet, here I am doing both.

Can you picture someone hanging from the monkey bars, one hand on each bar and her body stretched beyond comfort? Someone who can't help but cling, but who is working on getting the guts to let go and fly? Yup, that's me, but guess what? I am having the time of my life! I am determined not to be those poor grapes.

Scenes from a Sunday

We enjoyed so much today...

...a funny little goat,
 

...the last of the apples

waiting for us to use them up...

...trucks full of pumpkins, and

mountains painted with God's colors.

Winding country lanes leading to...

wines waiting to be tasted and

 

family to be enjoyed.

...flowers tucked into unexpected spaces.

I hope your day was just as lovely as ours!
 
 
 
 
 


 
 
 

A Touch of Pink

Today was one of those days. Nothing major...just harried and hurried, and more than a bit wiped out. My camera travelled to school with me today; I wanted to capture some of autumn's glorious color. So, when I found myself just wanting to bang my head in frustration at 3:30, I grabbed the camera and headed outside.

Something happens when my eye frames a bit of nature's magic...be it in the form of plants or kids. (I even managed a few rides up and down Utah's mountains, my eyes firmly attached to my camera. I forgot how high up I was, and all was fine!)

Look what I found:

When I remember to look, I can see these from my clasroom windows. They're a seed pod, I think, and they're utterly gorgeous. They began as a very soft green, and then slowly acquire a touch of pink. By the time they're ready to let go and drop, they're a stunning bright fuschia! The textures beg you to touch them.

I can imagine myself blowing on them, much like you'd blow on a dandelion, sending out hundreds of wishes to women everywhere...to those who have lost the battle with breast cancer, to those who have won, and to all women as we hold each other up along the way. As each wish travels, they're whispering in your ears, encouraging you to nurture yourself.  Go get that mammogram, please.
 
 

Apple Pickin' Time

Aren't these utterly gorgeous? I took this picture last year in West Virginia at their "Applebutter Festival." This past Saturday, almost a year to the day, Phil and I headed out to Stribling Orchards in VA. Rain fell, kept falling, and pretty much just fell all day long, precluding any apple pickin' on my part! We still managed to come home with 25 lbs of apples, a pie, some bread, various jams and jellies, and even some salsa!

On Sunday, our house smelled like one huge apple pie. Apples simmered and bubbled on the stove, while Phil fussed and puttered away in the kitchen.

I've done lots of thinking about this whole canning foray, especially the "whys" of it. It certainly isn't saving us any money, and we seem to be accumulating gadgets at an alarming rate.  There's the obvious benefit of knowing what's in your food, of course, but oh, the work! (Not that I'm doing any, by the way. My purpose is to make encouraging noises and stay out of the way.)

So, why?

I think it's the act of creating. Hanna wrote about this today in her blog. (Welcome back, Hanna!) Hanna believes, and so do I, that we're all creative in some way, whether it's our writing, creating art, photography, or the way we chose to dress ourselves and decorate our homes. She writes that it's our decision to make, to allow time for ourselves to create.

Phil would tell you, without blinking, that he's not creative. I disagree. The man can make a wicked grilled cheese sandwich, and smoke a turkey that's to die for. His creativity pours out through the food he creates.

I'm also thinking that canning is a way to connect with the food that nourishes us. So much of it comes prepackaged. We rush through the supermarket, throwing things into our basket, and rarely thinking about how it ends up on our table. But when we grow it, package it, and stow it away for later use, there' s a connection.

So, the jars are lined up in our closet, ready for winter to bring a taste of summer.

We need a bigger closet!

Sending You Pink Thoughts

It's Thursday again, and I'm sending you a gentle reminder to get that mammorgram, and to bug all your friends until they do so as well.

As I went through my very rainy day, surrounded by exuberant sixth graders, the nagging question of what I would post today was present and demanding to be acknowledged.

We stopped for soup on the way home, and this caught my eye. I love its message, and I hope you do as well.

I hope you have a lovely Friday. I am taking my sleepy self up to bed!
 

Missing the Sun

Just four short days ago, I sat here:

...just soaking up the sunshine and watching these guys -

go about their daily business, while Kim...

made sure that he had the best angle for each shot, and Kara...

laughed in delight, watching these guys...

made known their displeasure at our interrupting their world, and waddled to and fro, quaking their displeasure.

It's 35 degrees colder today, rainy, and miserable with more of the same to come. I've finished typing up a few things that were long overdue, and I'm wishing I could stay home tomorrow and create some art.

I'm missing summer and the long daylight hours.

I'm missing crazy ducks, the smell of salt in the air, and time to do nothing but relax!

Thank goodness for the memories we carry in our hearts. 
 
 
 
 

Butterflies Dancing

Pure magic.

Absolute magic! Toes dug into the sand, I watched them flit and dance their way down the shoreline.

I turned small circles, seeing them everywhere and not knowing where to look first. Pure instinct guides them to Mexico, to a place they've never seen. Science and magic intertwined.

Furling and unfurling their wings, they held me in their thrall. Tiny creatures with a huge hold on me. I wanted to hold them, but just stood and stared. One volunteer's hourly count was over 600.

600 tiny scraps of magic dancing in the breeze!

 

Assateauge's wild yarrow offers them a seemingly unending banquet. Like the monarchs migrating each year, we head to the beach to watch their magic every Columbus Day Weekend. They never cease to delight.

Tucked in among them, these tiny guys flitted along for the ride. I'm not sure of their species, or even if they were moth or butterfly. I loved their markings..oh, those "eyes!"

Butterflies and family.

Steamed clams and crab in various forms.

Sitting on the beach, just talking for hours at a time.

Spirited debates at night.

No internet. No email.

Fudge, chocolate nonpareils, and salt water taffy.

Strolling the shops and galleries at night.

Life is good.
  

Thursday, Again, and Scrabble Stories

It's Thursday, again! I promised the lovely  Christina over at Soul Aperture that I would try to post "pink" on Thursdays in October. So, here we go....

If you've not had your mammogram this year, make that appointment. Please. If I can do it, and Christina can do it, well, so can you.  You'll feel much better when you have.

Yes, it hurts, but it's brief. It's worth it.

I'm sitting here grinning for a completely unrelated reason. Have you noticed the different shades of wood on the scrabble tiles? The flash really makes them pop. Years and years ago...decades of years...my parents played some mean games of scrabble. Mom generally won, but all of a sudden, the tides changed, and dad became the new champ.

Dad's handicap was that he could not spell. No way. No how. But, he seemed to be inordinately lucky.

He never got the "Q" or the "X."

Can you see where this is going?

Yup, dad had figured out that if he glanced away briefly, he could see the differences in the shades and grains of the tiles. He figured out which ones to avoid, and mom got stuck with them all.

He enjoyed himself for several months before "fessing up." Mom did not speak to him for several days.

Here's one more bit on Scrabble. My husband and I can not play this game together. Ever.

His brother, Mike, got us the game for our first anniversary. We nearly divorced.

It seems that we have vastly different versions of the rules.

I play fair. He cheats. (He claims otherwise!) But, really, would a Catholic school teacher cheat? Of course, not. But those government workers....ah,that's another story! (I apologize to all government workers. I don't really believe that. I'm just having fun at his expense.)

The game board was put aside and became a journal cover. The tiles...well, you can see one of the ways I use them.

That anniversary was 34 years ago. We've not played a game since, and we're still married.
   

Quick....Do a Journal Page!

So, I 'm filling up my little book, one, two, three! Or so it seems. While I do hate to see the little book end, I'm taking great joy in filling it with color and random thoughts.

Just did this little page a few minutes ago. Diana Trout's new book, Journal Spilling served as the inspiration. If you're a lover of journals, check it out. It's one awesome book, and it's literally packed with fun ideas to try out. I've been wanting to start drawing for quite some time, but I always end up so frustrated. They never ever come out the way I'd like to. This one doesn't particularly please me either, but it's a bit closer, I think. I hope. As Diana says, just have fun with it. So, I did, and maybe she's not so bad after all. Gotta admit, I'm still very envious of what others out there can do. I created this spread in about 15 minutes...just went for it!

Did this one yesterday, and really, I just don't know where it came from. The skeleton kept reappearing on my art table over these past few weeks. It seems he wanted to be used! The portrait of Andy Warhol has its own eeriness, and the two seemed to belong together. Mr. Warhol appears to be afraid, and I think that maybe that's what insprired the words. I nearly journaled about some of my fears, but decided to leave the page be. It seemed to be complete somehow. Diana's book inspired this one as well - the background, anyway. I played with layers of neopaques and water...applying, wetting, drying, scrubbing...in no particular order. Lots and lots of other colors under that green and orange!

I spent the day in front of a computer, working on entering educational data and beginning to analyze it. My eyes hurt, as does my brain. Too much technology in one day, so ending it with journal play proved to be what just what the doctor ordered.