Looking is what we do all the time. It’s how we negotiate our world. But seeing … that’s something special.
Sitting out on my back porch recently, I suddenly saw these incredible shadows made by the hydrangeas and porch railings. I saw a parrot, a rabbit, maybe a dragon, an acorn. Because instead of just looking with my eyes, I saw with my mind, my wider perception.
Not long ago, I’d taken a photo of my kitchen counter, because I became aware of the color of the shadow on the Thermos and the mug – so blue!
I love this photo of the hydrangeas because the shadows are so very soft and blue-grey, but also because it seemed to me that the leaf was in love with the hydrangea flower. Yes, my imagination, but when we really look at things, we see more deeply.
If we stop, we might see patterns all about us, lines and shapes that we casually pass by every day, until one day, we really see them.
I guess what I’m saying here is that our world is so much richer than we know or acknowledge. And all it takes to open that richness is to be in the present moment and see what’s around us.
Trying something new with my Etsy shop – a Christmas in July sale to reach some French Bulldog lovers with my Christmas/holiday cards, and possibly some “everyday” ones as well.
I have some wonderful ideas for a whole new avenue for my art, maybe requiring a second shop due to shipping/mailing challenges. I’m envisioning prints! How about prints! But before anyone in business gets too crazy about expanding, they need to have a good/better understanding of how to attract customers.
And that’s what I’m doing now … research. How to more effectively use social media, Pinterest, Etsy itself, and Google. It seems so simple, but every avenue of promotion is a field of knowledge in itself.
So if you would like to contribute to my research (of course, I’m smiling!), please stop by my Christmas in July sale on Etsy, on the dates above, and take advantage of a 35% off storewide discount! Or send a friend. Or two. I am appreciative of all support!
Do I write this post with a tad of guilt? I do. I feel like I have neglected my wonderful blog and disappointed … who? I notice that many of my contemporaries in blog posting have not been writing either. Hmmmmm …. (* Please see P.S. below.)
An effect of the pandemic? Are we all on to different things? Just not writing?
In the kitchen, keeping Jazzy company while she ate her lunch, I realized how restless I am. I want to do everything, but yet I really want to curl up with a good book and do nothing (but read). Life had been so crazy busy for so long, and then I left my very-often-intense work in the humane field. It was exactly what needed to be done, and along with some of that work was the pandemic. Working from home, staying at home for my safety, getting all too used to being home. Not liking it. It’s very comfortable and I live in a beautiful part of the state, but needing more. Restless.
Now that I can actually think, what do I want to be when I grow up? (You may have read about my ponderings on this subject in previous posts.)
Working on that, but meanwhile … I am always reading and always listening to music. Two constants. So while I work on the direction of my life, here are my 2023 reads so far, and all recommended unless otherwise noted. Not in order of being read.
The London Seance Society – Sarah Penner (currently reading) The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society – Mary Ann Shaffer – Excellent! The Lost Apothecary – Sarah Penner The Lost City of the Monkey God – Preston Douglas – didn’t finish, non-fiction, but not my type. Little Fires Everywhere – Celeste Ng – Excellent! The Book of Longings – Sue Monk Kidd Now You See Her – Linda Howard Night Music – JoJo Moyes Secluded Cabin, Sleeps Six – Lisa Unger
Perhaps you will find something of interest. Perhaps you will share something of interest, as I know any followers of mine are also readers. Whatever you may be doing, I hope you are happy in your days. I am always hoping you are as content as possible in our so-often-challenging world, and finding the small and simple joys that are right there in front of us, waiting to be noticed. Till next time …
* p.s. In reading a comment on this post, and following up, I see that I have not been getting any notices of posts from my blogging buddies. Went into my settings and see something different than I remember. I hope this solves the problem, and my apologies to my friends who may have thought I was not reading and responding. That explains what I wrote above!
It seems that the holidays feel different every year. It’s not a matter of growing older, but maybe of seeing the world through different eyes.
Some years have seen good-sized gatherings, some years, small and intimate ones. Some years bright and merry, others quiet. There have been years where gift-buying was a big deal, others when it barely mattered at all. Years with COVID in play, years not.
The common thread? Change. Everything is always in motion, including how we spend our holidays, where, and with whom.
The other thread? Feeling grateful … for all the experiences the holidays have brought, and those they will bring.
Here’s hoping that you will not get lost in the rush, but lost in the peace, joy, and sweet calm of the season. I’ll be joining you for these.
I had wanted to find this particular photo of my Dad for a quick post on Instagram. I knew it was somewhere among the photo albums my Mom had meticulously put together, and which documented our family’s history from the 1800’s. It was a photo of my Dad taking a picture in our backyard where I grew up.
And there you see it. That would have been his Leica camera, the predecessor to his Nikon F that he bought later on. My Dad was an amateur photographer, and really quite good. He had a real eye for composition, getting people right, and an overall good photograph.
There aren’t that many photos of my Dad, mostly because he was the one always taking the pictures. In looking through the albums, I found more than I expected. But I didn’t want photos of him as a child, or on wedding day; I just wanted him.
My Dad was a kind, gentle soul. He was very intelligent even though he only achieved a high school education, which was pretty common back then. He knew a lot about lots of things, and was skilled in several areas – he was an excellent gardener and had flowers always blooming. He knew his way around all kinds of tools, and finished our entire basement on his own. He did every kind of home repair imaginable.
I followed him around like a puppy, asking lots and lots of questions. And while his green thumb never rubbed off on me, I learned to be quite competent in plastering, painting, and even building simple things from wood – “the right way”, he would remind me.
I’m sure he would have loved it if my brother and I were more sporty, but still, my Dad had us out bowling, taught us how to play tennis and to ice skate. He taught me how to swim in the Atlantic Ocean when I was just a toddler, out past the breakers where it was safe. And to not be afraid of the water. He instilled a love of driving and going places in me, and who knows how many other things I’ve since forgotten.
Maybe most importantly, his love of photography had a positive impact on me. I was given a little Kodak Brownie camera at 9, and was taking pictures every chance I got. When I began my B.F.A, I hadn’t yet decided on a major, but perhaps no surprise, it ended up as Photography. And to this day, I am always, always happy when I am taking pictures.
My Dad with my brother, taken before I was born. I just love this photo.
I think he worried about me sometimes because as I got older I had so many ideas and things I wanted to do that were outside of what he considered safe or sensible. Like owning a car in New York City. But I did, and he adapted. And the one thing he always was, was proud of me. I’m not sure I always knew that at the time as I became increasingly headstrong and wanted to live life on my own terms, but I know now that he was. And I know he’d be the proudest father on Earth, knowing his daughter got published this year for the first time.
If I didn’t say it then, Dad, thanks for everything. You helped me more than you could know.
Still A Dreamer 