Soaking up sun, earth, and words.
Discarding the shadows of winter from our corners.
Plans for the neglected sewing machine…imagining cotton slipping beneath forgetful fingers.
Questions without answers of yet – A heart on tip-toe, wondering what’s around the bend.
Hopeful. Happy. Here.
From one window, morning rushes in. Evening lingers long out the other.
Six panes of light are temporarily etched across our path each afternoon.
My grandmother’s birds float quietly overhead.
I bustle and scurry.
She scatters cupcake plates in my shadow and plans another party.
He appears in the doorway as the sun sinks low.
Eyes ever twinkling, no matter how wearying the day.
Strong arms. For tossing her. For holding me.
We race to fall in.
The days stories unfold in familiar fashion.
We light candles, ladle nourishment, and laugh.
Soap and cinnamon. Scents mingle.
Clanging. Banging. Gurgling. Humming.
And this unlikely cathedral, in quieter hours - a sanctuary.
Thoughts rolled and rumbled.
Tears cried and dried.
Prayers whispered.
Dreams birthed.
Washing. Wiping. Kneading. Stirring.
And I am being made.
This week has been the perfect mix of rest, work, and play. And I’ve loved it. I needed time and space to hit the “reset” button on life. Sometimes it just seems that everywhere I turn, things are a bit “off” and the more I dash from one thing to the next trying to right it all, the more maddening it becomes. Such was my feeling at the beginning of this week. But not today. Today, the clutter is cleared, both literally and figuratively. I’m rested…refreshed…at ease.
Over the last five days, I’ve had a lot of time to think about this space…and about that space. I want both to be an honest reflection, not only of me, but of the current season I’m in. Lately, I’ve been feeling this internal pressure to create (another craft project…another tutorial…another something) but I think that most days, rather than trying to “invent” beauty, I’m suppose to simply acknowledge the beauty that already surrounds me and give thanks. And then I read this post and began this project and my mind began to clear. Five days into the thirty and I’m in love.
All of that being said, you’re likely to see some changes here in the days and weeks to come. There will be days when my post here is simply a series of images…wordless. This will be a challenge for me. I like words. I love words. I need words. But I think I need to exercise my ability to be silent more than I need to speak. And I want to learn to take photographs that need no explanation…images that speak for themselves.
Secondly, this feeling that I MUST post every single day is a prideful, self-imposed rule that is counter-creative in many ways and the surest way to end up in a bloggy burnout. From here on out, I will not be posting every single morning of the week. It will vary. I’m not making a schedule (as my type A personality would prefer) but rather just allowing space for it to happen as it will.
The format of the Solstice Letters project will remain unchanged but I will be posting just a few times per week. Keep those beautiful photographs coming. I’ll be using them.
Thank you for reading this rambling of mine. I suppose most of it could have gone entirely unsaid but so many of you frequent here daily and I wanted to let you know that change is on the horizon.
If I disappear from here over the next day or two, know that our power did not survive the first dumping of snow here in the deep South. Yes, I know the weather man said three to five inches but where we live, it might as well be three to five feet. This town is unprepared and giddy with excitement. Well, off I go…there’s much to be done this morning. Thank you for listening, as always.
p.s. As soon as I hit “publish” on this post, I hopped over to Shutter Sisters and received this wonderful surprise…more confirmation that I am indeed on the right path.
I lift the blind and you scatter.
Feather and fluff take flight.
So near, I can almost touch you.
Then far, you flicker and disappear.
Agile, aflutter, afloat.
Song soaring.
Grace gliding.
Faith free-falling.
Celebrating 30 days of beauty…
It seems that February has returned Winter to its rightful place. After January lured us out to balmy sunshine, she crept in and sent us clamouring for hats and coats and cups of warm anything. And you, my spry, chirping little Wren, would happily forgo breakfast for the chance to chase the chill, oblivious to your warm wild breath whirling and swirling like a swarm of fairy bees. And as you go about the merry business of berry-picking and acorn-stomping, Momma clutches warm chamomile and shivers at your heels chiding, five more minutes, my love, from behind chattering teeth. You’re keeping me limber – on my toes and on my knees. You’re keeping me awake. Aware. Amazed. And I’m reminded that behind everything we see, hear, smell, taste, and touch, there is still more. And for that, I love you all the more.
