once again, I couldn't have said it better...

"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life...Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life...Most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become."  - Steve Jobs

reflection

I've just returned from a two week vacation at a little cabin in the Adirondack mountains. One of my favorite places for many reasons; peace, tranquility, and seclusion not being the least of them. It is a place of great beauty and lends itself to an appreciation of nature that for me, at least, approaches a gentle awe. While the ocean is nice, I am a person of woodlands, valleys, streams, and mountain lakes. Sun-dappled clearings, mossy rocks, and the calls of belligerent crows all unclench my chest, soothe my soul, and bring peace to my spirit.

The cabin has no electricity, and so no television, radio, or electronic white noise to bombard the ear - allowing for a quiet that few of us seldom, if ever, have the chance to experience. Coupled with the location, it is a perfect situation for relaxation and reflection.

There were walks with the dogs, good books, visits to charming shops and galleries, discovery of local farmers markets, and wonderful food at little cafes. I enjoyed the freedom of standing in the sunshine halfway up a mountain and singing out loud knowing no one could hear. I also spent a not inconsiderable time simply staring into space. Reflecting on where I am, where I want to be, and how I want to live my life. There are times I feel the need to remind myself that I only get one. Life, that is. And to not allow it to slip by without noticing.

I renewed my commitment to not live according to other's expectations. To live joyously. To spend more time creating art. To remember to find peace in the cool of the day. To enjoy the simple things: a hot cup of coffee outside at dawn, a walk without a destination, good conversations about nothing in particular, and quiet dinners with old friends.

Driving home, leaving the high peaks, brought tears to my eyes. It almost felt like a good-bye. I hope not. I hope to go back.

a quiet life

"The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind."

Albert Einstein

Impossible for me to have said it better. I've been thinking about this in my own life recently and was pleasantly surprised to happen upon this quote. Living here on the hill for four years now, my life has become increasingly quiet, less complicated, more in tune. With my dogs for company as I work, farm animals for the occasional distraction, a garden for physical exertion, and a good book to read in the evening, I am rarely bored.

When we deliberately slow down the pace of our lives and stop allowing ourselves to be constantly bombarded by everything that screams for our attention, we are able to find the quiet moments to think and reflect. To allow imagination free reign to entertain us. To dream and to ponder the "what ifs". For me, that's where art comes from. That quiet place.

some thoughts on gardening and art

To be perfectly honest, I've not been particularly creative or productive, sculpture-wise, for the past two months or more. However, the garden is looking better than it ever has. Pondering this, I realized there was a correlation. The need to create, specifically to create something of beauty, thoughtfulness, and worth is ingrained pretty deeply. So if I'm going to garden, then it needs to be an aesthetically pleasing garden. Productive, yes, but also attractive to the eye. So combined with my love of being outdoors in the fresh air and sunshine, along with a lifelong enjoyment for growing things, and you have my creative energies going into a garden rather than into sculptures. So all those pieces I've started, along with the ones that are still only an idea in a sketchbook, have been patiently waiting for me to return to them (do they have any choice, really?). And return I will, just as soon as I pull a couple more weeds and admire a few more bee-covered blossoms, and maybe check to see if there are any baby tomatoes yet...

winter doldrums suggestion #5: go antiquing

Suggestion #5: spend some time in an antique mall

Winter is the perfect time to go antiquing because there's absolutely no guilt about being indoors on a perfectly nice day. Yesterday morning I went to Renningers Antique Mall in Adamstown, PA. The place is huge and I knew I'd be able to find good stuff there. That's my haul in the photo above. Not sure yet what I'll do with most of it, but it'll get used somehow. I especially like the red-painted turned wood knob-type thingy. 

I did end up using one of the watch faces for "The White Rabbit's Mirror". I made a new heart - this time out of wood - and painted it red, then attached the watch face to it and hung it by a chain to the frame. Much better than carrots and the ceramic heart that I originally had. Still a bit sweet, but not quite so cute. 

winter doldrums suggestion #4: visit a conservatory!

Suggestion #4: visit a conservatory on a sunny day

A wonderful treat for the senses in the middle of winter is to take a day and go to Longwood Gardens in Kennett Square, PA. They have the most wonderful conservatory. According to their literature, it shelters 20 indoor gardens with 5,500 types of plants within 4.5 acres of glass-enclosed space. 

I hope you enjoy the following photos nearly as much as I enjoyed being there!

the lawn in the main building - sort of makes you want to take off your shoes and walk on it

the silver garden

phalaenopsis in the orchid room

a collection of orchids and bromeliads

a display of spring flowers

hydrangea

the tropical room

carnivorous plants, beautiful but deadly if you're an insect

Doesn't it feel more like spring already?

winter doldrums suggestion #3: bring home cut flowers

suggestion #3: buy yourself a bouquet of flowers

Do this for yourself! A simple bunch of flowers - or even just one - can brighten a room and your whole day. When I was a college student, my apartment was right across the street from a florist and so fairly regularly, I'd go and buy the cheapest bunch they had. For several years after graduating I'd treat myself to fresh flowers, but unfortunately somewhere along the way, the habit died. Too bad, really.

So let's not let practicality rear it's sterile head and interfere with the joy of fresh blooms! Go out and buy some flowers!

*the pot above was made by Amedeo Salamoni, a neighbor, potter, artist, and fellow participant in the southern lancaster county open studio tour.

winter doldrums suggestion #2: visit the pennsylvania farm show!

This is one of the friezes on the older portion of the farm show building complex.

Suggestion #2: visit farm animals and eat good food

What's not to love about going to a farm show in January? Until Saturday, January 17, the Pennsylvania Farm Show is being held in Harrisburg. As stated on their website, more than 400,000 visitors are expected, with the chance to see almost 6,000 animals, 10,000 competitive exhibits, and 270 commercial exhibitors! Every year there's a giant butter sculpture, a sheep-to-shawl competition, and a huge food court that showcases some of the state's most delicious products. My favorites in the food court would have to be the chocolate milkshakes, the deep fried mushrooms, and the lamb stew. The potato donuts are pretty good, too.

Of course, I enjoyed all of the animals being exhibited, especially the poultry. There were, of course, also cows, pigs and sheep - the sheep that were there on Sunday were just the market lambs - who looked like supermodels compared to my rather short and stout babydolls. Even Jack the shetland bears little resemblance to those long-legged ladies. Apparently the wool breeds will be there later in the week.

I also got the chance to watch part of the draft horse hitch competition - very impressive. Can't begin to imagine what it takes to feed animals of that size. 

So if you live anywhere near Harrisburg, PA, I'd encourage you to get out there this week and immerse yourself in the agriculture of Pennsylvania!

*Photo montage above: Narrangaset turkey, draft horse hitch, the crowds, frieze detail, canned goods in competition, angora rabbit, bee display, market lamb, red deer, historical display, old english game hen who was the supreme grand poultry champion, boer goats.

making it through to March - suggestions for the winter doldrums

Winter seems to me to be a dead sort of time. Almost like everyone and everything is in a kind of suspended animation. People and animals huddle in their homes and shelters, sleeping more, going out less, some just trying to get through it. Certainly, I start to miss the life and vibrancy of growing things - green grass, blooming flowers, budding trees. Warm thunderstorms, humming bees and the trilling of spring peepers. It all seems so far away.

January is the worst, in my estimation. At least in December we have Christmas and New Year's to look forward to, and in February, you can almost convince yourself it's nearly March, which means it's almost spring. Know what I mean?

In January and even February, I look for ways to brighten my outlook so starting today and in the next couple of weeks, I'll be sharing them with you. If you're like me and can hardly wait for spring, perhaps you'll enjoy some of my suggestions.

Suggestion #1: start planning your garden!

To get through these coldest months, an enjoyable activity is to start planning the spring planting. Seed and nursery catalogs have arrived, so armed with graph paper, pencil, and lists of desired plants, I sit down and spend a quiet evening or lazy weekend afternoon making planting plans. And for all too brief a time am transported to a place that's warm and sunny, where the air smells of freshly turned dirt and the birds are singing with the joy of being alive.

a foretelling or predestination?

I've been thinking about what makes us like the things we do. Perhaps the things we're drawn to were ingrained in us at a very young age. This photo of my brother and I was taken when we lived in Michigan. Growing up, we would travel to Indiana to spend summer vacations at my grandmother's farm. I adored the sound of roosters crowing in the morning, flowers growing alongside vegetables in the garden, and playing in the barn. After moving here a few years ago, one of the first things I did was get my own poultry, with sheep following soon after - and I still love the smell of a barn full of fresh hay.

So, do I enjoy chickens and sheep so much because I was exposed to them at such an early age, or did I love them from the first, because that's just how I'm made? 

I could go either way on this one. 

merry christmas, everybody

what is normal, anyway?

"Nobody can be exactly like me. Even I have trouble doing it."

Tallulah Bankhead

What does normal mean? Average, run-of-the-mill, common? Or getting along, fitting in? According to Webster, it is "conforming to the standard or the common type; ...regular; ...approximately average." 

It seems to me that thinking and doing things the way most people do is probably the easy road - unless, you just aren't wired that way. Then it chafes like ill-fitting shoes. But while not conforming to the standard might be a good fit for you, it sure does make a lot of the people around you darned uncomfortable. Most folks don't much like different. They don't know what to do with it or about it. Different doesn't fit neatly into a box - at least not one that they have. 

For awhile I figured my idiosyncrasies were just youth. And gradually came to the point where I decided it was time to "grow up" and be normal, fit in, meet expectations (you know, like getting a real coffeepot). But those shoes just didn't fit. The sculpture with this post is one of the first that I did after I began making art again. It was soon after I moved here, real close to my family. Feeling the pressure to conform, it was my attempt to illustrate the desire to break free of both external and internal expectations and limitations, while at the same time celebrating the very things that can hold us back if we allow them. 

And so I have come to the point where I can just smile* when people ask me "how do you think of these things?" - meaning my art - and think to myself, "how can you not?".

*Although inside I cringe because, after all, who likes having to justify the way their brain works?

the path of (re)discovery

As I said in a previous post, I am rediscovering the things that I used to love.

Recently I found my old red and white enamel percolator in the basement. Finding it brought back memories of the delicious smell of coffee that would permeate the house as it was brewing. Why did I ever stop using it? Because I felt (and fell to) the pressure applied by others to just be normal, keep up with the times, etc., and use a "Mr. Coffee" type of maker - not that it makes better coffee mind you, it doesn't. After that, a french press pot was purchased and used for many years. Don't get me wrong, a french press makes a wonderful pot of coffee, but still, it doesn't have that delicious aroma that emanates from a percolator. And so this morning a pot of coffee was put on the wood stove before going out to take care of the animals. By the time I came back in, the whole house smelled wonderful and beautifully strong hot coffee was waiting for me. Ahhhhhh.

It is the simple pleasures, if they are allowed to stay simple, that are so wonderful. 

I remember now

It has been slow in coming. Very slow. 

When I left the world of commuting, offices, and florescent lights to work from home over seven years ago, my chest unclenched for the first time in years. And I realized I had never accurately read the signs. To make up for the office environment I would usually eat my weekday lunch by streams, in parks, under trees, and would dread going back. Not because I hated the work - on the contrary, I loved it - but because I felt trapped indoors. I needed windows, sunlight, air. And suddenly, working from home, I could have all of that. It felt good in my soul. Not too long before I left the land of artificial lighting and recirculated air, I took some sort of a career/personality test and was a bit amused but also taken aback by the results. Apparently I would be well suited to be either an advertising executive (which I was), or a farmer. Huh. It gave me a bit of a chuckle, but also struck home

The next event that increased the momentum of change, was the death of my most beloved dog, Isaac. Frustrated by not being able to create a piece of art that would do him justice, I began to make art again for the first time in years. A little here, a little there, nothing very much, but it was a start. It felt good and it felt right. I began re-using a part of me that I had forgotten about.

Then not quite four years ago, I moved here. Back to the country. Where the mornings are still and peaceful, there is an expectant hush at twilight, and it is quiet and dark at night. Where thoughts are not overwhelmed by noise and bustle. Nature is right outside the door with wildflowers and wildlife in the woods, and birds everywhere. As I began to once again appreciate and seek out tranquility and simplicity, art became increasingly important while other things continued to fall away.

And so I remember now those things that I loved before getting caught up with all the stuff that we frantically fill our lives with. Things like growing cut flowers just so I can bring them into the house. Taking the time to explore my surroundings. Noticing small beauties such as the curl of a leaf, a patch of moss, a tiny mushroom. Really looking and seeing how things are and how they could be. Imagining possibilities. Finding peace in the quiet of the day. 

I feel like I lost my way for awhile, but things are back on track. I am making art, garden plans are underway which will include a large area for cut flowers, and dogs are at my side - just happy being dogs - with no other agenda.