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.

Magic.

Mystery

for magnificent you.

In letting the years make you pliable and sage

you gain balance and warmth.

Insights.

Wonder.

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 

Metal Shop

later today.

xoxoxo,

Sunny