Thursday, July 30, 2015

nature of love

This picture is an oldie. It isn't from my stash of photos, shifting endlessly in a drawer. It wasn't taken out of my mother's black paged albums either, nor my grandmother's shoe box of photos. I doubt that it belonged to my great grandmother either although it is a picture of her uncle. Photography was expensive then and I imagine that the picture was given to her parents. It's a photo of William John Haddock, and would have been a very elegant and appreciated gift to give a brother and his wife.
Doesn't my great, great, great Uncle look distinguished? Isn't his hair amazing?
He looks very sober but he was a judge and that is a very serious business.
This photo makes me ponder the fate of old family pictures.
It has been spared the Great Cull that is inevitable as the baton of life passes from generation to generation.
It has somehow managed to survive the turning of two centuries, two world wars, and a yawning gulf of time that has made dear Uncle William a complete stranger.
But he was my great, great, grandfather Robert's big brother.
He was a teenager when the Haddock's made their voyage across the Atlantic to begin anew.
The Civil War was waiting in the wings.
Both brothers fought and survived those perilous times.
I am certain that Robert loved his brother William.
And that Robert's daughter Minerva loved him as well.
Minerva had something in common with her Uncle.
She left all and moved to a new country.
Beginning anew.
Minerva and Rufus C. Ray.
My great grandparents.
Letters and postcards traveled back and forth between Alberta and Iowa.
The tie remained for a time.
My own mother never met or even spoke of this man and yet I feel something so familiar as I look at his portrait.
More than a hundred years have rolled along.
Can love be passed down?
Or the memory of love?
I think it can.
It's in the nature of love.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

be bi bo bangle

starlight bright bangle

shell pink bangle

cobalt blue bangle

like gems

A whole bunch of beautiful bangle-y button bracelets. (in a basket) This post was brought to you by the letter B apparently.

I made the white one one several years ago. I always feel so special when I wear it. All those vintage white and mother of pearl buttons are like little jewels. And it has just the right weight to hang low on my wrist and jangle softly as I move. I love it so.
When a tin of buttons fell out of my cupboard, raining down like a kaleidoscope of hail, it occurred to me that buttons in the cupboard are hoarded buttons, whilst buttons stitched into bracelets are not just jewelry, but a collection on display; a handful of happiness.

I spent a lovely afternoon yesterday stitching buttons onto wide black elastic. I made a pink/burgundy/coral bracelet first. The colors combined have a tension that excites the eye. And pink was apparently a popular vintage color. I had a hard time choosing from many.
I made the blue one next. True blue. There is a VERY old cobalt blue glass button with faceted face stitched amidst the bakelite and vintage aqua's. Blue is one of those colors that is a neutral without even trying.
The tan/cream one came next. I hadn't thought to include those colors but there were so many amazing buttons in shades of wicker that I fell under their spell.
The silver/pewter one came last. Well, last for now. It has an especially wonderful feel on my wrist. So blingy. The dull burnished glow is so elegant. Who knew old coat buttons could feel like gems.
I think I'm going to try to create a necklace next. i don't like anything I've seen on Pinterest but if I slide them around on the table an idea may come.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

well seasoned

We are seasonal creatures.
Don't you think that's true? Plants don't do the same things all year round. Neither do animals.....some even change color.
And I think we're no different.

The seasons march by in their pre-ordered order.
It can be hard to stay in step with the changing of the guard.
To enjoy the moment even while it is shifting underfoot.

When the cloak of summer heat lies breathless and heavy I long for soup and stew days of autumn, air crisp and smoky.
And in autumn, I find my thoughts straying ahead to frosty nights and silent snow.
Then windy wild spring.morns while all around is still and gray..

The circle of seasons stirred a longing almost restless.
Caused my eye to search the horizon.
Sort of seemed disloyal to the moment....

Now I think what I'm really longing for is simply change and the energy that seems to infuse transition.
It's mid-summer but I hear the distant notes of autumn.
Play on.

Monday, July 20, 2015

all around

All around is heat.
And color.
His bright blue pants,
a smolder of purple shirt,
and hot pink T-shirt,
a rosy red electric guitar,
and a couple dancing the samba on the sand.

i felt it

The Harrison Festival of the Arts was as hot as a jalapeno this year.
Maybe hotter.
I survived by darting under the icy spray of the beach shower several times. My dripping hair was dry in a blink and waywardly curled by the steamy breath of July.
The music was pretty hot too with songs like, Save Me For Later by bluesy Suzie Vinnick.
"They say cookin' it slow brings out the flavor darlin' save me for later."
Her voice, rich and sweet and warm.
Drums like hail and thunder.
And bluesy bass.
Big, bad, bluesy bass that played up and down our spines.
And Matuto shouting, "I say feel it...
feel it,
feel it,

I felt it.

Monday, July 13, 2015

it does

I found a piece of my mind.
It was just lying around....
a little scrap of paper that I had written on with a dull pencil

Doesn't kindness break your heart?

It does.
But sometimes it needs to break to let in the light.