Friday, November 22, 2013

Unexpected Fruits

I have never realized until this year how gloriously seasonal my work is: if I've not collected enough seed pods in June, they'll not be more than a certain number of seed pod earrings.
These are my last gentle little slips of seed and I'm feeling strangely satisfied by that. Nostalgic
for the days when you could only eat artichokes in late spring
or get cherries in July.

This week has been a beautiful and bittersweet one, lots of healed tiny cracks
and revelations about boundaries within and without.
I sketched long and light to find the perfect design to illustrate the fine art of 
surprise endings.

unexpected fruits:

you plant a jacaranda
and end up with maidenhair ferns
or a scythe for the harvest...

you set out to find self-reliance and you end up with more discernment
and compassion: once you sign up to grow there is really no way to guarantee
what gifts the earth and the universe have to give you.

You pluck a golden feather
and a flower grows in the empty place.



for magnificent you.

In letting the years make you pliable and sage
you gain balance and warmth.

The point, mostly, is just to keep planting.
Just to keep opening your heart against all odds,
against all sharp and hard things that wish it closed
that profit from your fear and unwillingness.

Always be willing.

Never stop at hate, at 'won't'
but instead walk on by them. Water and shine on what you've set out to discover

and you may just grow a gift that was never on the seed packet
to begin with.

Unexpected Fruit Series of Three Pairs
in the 

later today.



Brandi said...

Your writing is often so timely, and always good for my spirit to read.

Allisunny S. said...

Brandi, What an honor to have your eyes reading those words. Sending you the fondest thoughts from California! xoxoxo

Cat said...

unexpected fruits indeed
and aren't those the most treasured...the most appreciated...the most packed with goodness

this is some kind of wonderful work and beautiful words

you're amazing

love and light

prairiegirl said...

Your words!
And your work in seeds and golden feathers.
Telling a story has never looked so beautiful.