This evening as a grey rain continued to fall (and will until even after I return from Los Angeles)
a mockingbird sang in our backyard.
When I first moved to Los Angeles 8 years ago
and I was in the doldrums, a strange new voice began in earnest outside of my window;
one bird song, borrowed
then another and another...
I had never heard the mockingbird before, and I was smitten and then some:
besotted might be a better term.
Over the last few weeks I have been stealing snippets of time to create a new bag; it's a huge, deep hobo bag and it takes a million yards of leather and fabric and a thousand hours to make.
Completely worth every second, every inch: it's gorgeous.
Made of all soft leather (and 300 rivets!! whew!) with a few tooled accents, this bag is one fluid motion of slinging, capable of carrying most everything you would need for even the most rigorous and varietal (this adjective is not just for wines anymore, baby!) of days.
On one side, a red heart outer pocket with a mockingbird,
on the other side a turquoise heart pocket, even bigger and deeper, with a bluebird of happiness.
When I heard that mockingbird singing out this evening, I knew he needed to be lauded in leather.
Pictures will come soon, but I just had to share an instance of inspiration because it touched me so completely.