So, last night, I lost myself in watching videos over here at Teesha's blog, and couldn't wait to go play. After watching "Dancing with the Stars," I fell into bed, but my brain was just hopping with ideas. Promising myself "just few minutes," I headed into the art room. A little over an hour and a half later, I ended up with this:
Kinda looks like I feel, but at the same time I think she's kinda cute. Maybe because I identify with her?
Right now she's on hold since I'm waiting to see if Teesha shares how she does that awesome writing of hers.
In the meantime, I can share that this was a ton of fun, and it was pretty much just what the doctor ordered. Should be interesting to see what influence creeps into my own art.
And, oh, by the way, her cheeks and nose are not that vivid on the real deal. She's much more subtle, if you can use that word about art like this!
The universe loves to teach me a lesson, almost too much so. She definitely has a warped sense of humor.
A few posts ago, I wrote about letting go. Obviously, she thought this bore more attention. She then provided the opportunity.
I attempted to sign up for an online photography course, just trying to take it up a notch. For whatever reason, I couldn't send my instructor an email without signing up for a gmail account with Google.
With my husband sitting right beside me, for "safety's sake," I filled in all the blanks.
We then watched the entire contents of my inbox disappear off into never never land, never to be seen again.
The email that told me my new grandchild would be a boy.
The email letting me know that my journals would be in Somerset.
The email announcing the night's menu from my husband, ala "Chef Phil."
Emails from good friends.
Off they went.
Several hours with the Cox tech people later...
Several hours of trying to contact someone, anyone, at google. Google apparently employs no humans that have any desire to talk with you.
And, then, I just let them go. I really had no choice, other than to decide not to just sit there and bawl. Or maybe kick something. Hard.
Okay, let's skip the coulda's, shoulda's, woulda's.
I know that I should have printed them out. I just liked to sit and look at them on the computer every now and then.
You see, we can't figure out why it happened, or even quite what happened.
My husband really knows computers. It's what he does.
We both followed instructions.
Off they all went anyway.
I sort of felt like this bird...just turn my back on it all and walk away.
Obviously, the universee had decided that I needed to "let go" of something, or several somethings in that mailbox.
Maybe next time she could just send me a nice note?
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.
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.
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!
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.
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!
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!
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.
