Wednesday, April 29, 2015

First Bloom and a Trinity

The roses are in first bloom right now
and this evening I had the presence of mind to take my best camera out
and capture some of the vibrant life
right in our back yard.

We blew bubbles and went 'fishing', which consisted of sitting in a tall dirt planter
with tomato stakes hanging over the edge, talking about what kind of fish were 'dowm' there.

Everywhere I looked, Beauty.
Every breath, blessed and weary:
by the end of the day I tend to envision a finish line
and I am determined to cross it.

To be gentle with myself for the less than stellar moments
and smile at the amazing and weird ways my son puts the English language to work.
He is vastly creative
and very serious,
except when he's not
and then it's all silliness and running.

I want to run more with him.
I will add that to my awesomely long list of things to do:
'run more with Orion'
because heaven knows
that list is my Spirit Animal.

In practically french-kissing my studio every time I walked in this week I made some
of the most sumptuous and potent earrings.
Just three pairs, but I like trinities and harmonies in thirds,
so it's just right.

They'll be




Thursday, April 16, 2015

Honoring Tenderness: a collection.

Feathered Nest Necklace. American Turquoise. Conch rose and dewdrops. Draped chain.

Hanging Garden Earrings, Large

Hanging Garden earrings, small.

Jacaranda Seed Slip Posts.

Abundance Necklace. Mother of Pearl. Quartz. Lunaria Plant.

In the



Sunday, April 5, 2015

Begin Again.

Driving and crying

All the way home from Oakland
because the young engraver you so thoroughly vetted (i.e. know nothing about beyond his stellar work)
totally ditched your lesson.

This was the day in which you were going to invest money to learn the use of your Lindsay Graver,
the one you've had since your first mother's day three years ago.
The one that is wasting under your leather bench,
the one that would make life so much easier.
Three years of some day

You get home and you call your mentor, chin wobbling.
You ask if she knows anyone who can help and as always she has answers,

You send a few emails.
Panic hovers for some reason, still.
Your mentor texts you an Instagram picture of the guy who was supposed to teach you today,
half naked behind his girlfriend. Posted this hour.
You feel stupid and suddenly old.

All of this resistance, all of these little pressures,
the doorway.

You gather the manuals.
Your husband reads their Greek and translates them into English.

You are all plugged in. 
Hug his neck, that kind and patient man.
Thank him for this gift given three years ago.

Haltingly at first, you engrave.
Get bolder.
See a ballerina dancing on a crescent moon.
Let it be chicken scratch.
Let it look kinda rough,
with a twisted foot and a crab hand,
please let those things be.
Let yourself get out from underneath the critic
long enough to play.

That smile?
Hard won.
That joy?
Beginner's joy.

Suddenly hungry,
suddenly uncorked.

All of this to say: when things fail, when resistance threatens to keep everything caged
just keep breathing, keep trying and keep taking baby steps relentlessly
and despite.
Don't let things not going the way you think they should keep you from
doing what you've longed dreamed.

Always and forever,


Thursday, April 2, 2015

The Blossoming


is full this afternoon.

It has blossomed,
like our peachy roses,
like my son's flushed and fevered cheeks…

I listed everything this afternoon as he napped
and then spent hours fussing over him and being cuddled.
Now he watches Winnie the Pooh and I write, trying so hard to communicate what sometimes feels so easy.
I have in the past steamed out work and listings like mad: meaningful, friendly work that just flowed…
now everything feels precious, "My God, I made seven pairs of earrings!!" like I 
built a house. A tiny, delicately-strong bejeweled house.

Whew. I ought to make myself some iced tea.

It's the height of clear beautiful days here right now in Northern California,
sweet and frightfully dry, the sun giving us a bit more day to savor.
One year of water left, tick tick tick.

In every area of life the lovely and the hard
are married and so precariously, lovingly balanced.
Or not at all balanced.

I have beauty to share today and that's enough.
More than enough.