From the description on Etsy:
For every summer of my childhood growing up in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, I remember that late August day.
It was always late August, the sun was busy roasting the grass a dirty yellow and the sound of the first cicada always bore through my ears like a drill.
The harbinger of school,
the dirge of coming autumn, falling leaves and a signal that growing up was immanent.
One summer taller, one summer closer to all of the fears of a sensitive child: change, aging and beginnings.
Here, halfway through my thirties and having developed a healthy (though apprehensive) appreciation for all the things I once misunderstood, I can look back on that dear child with compassion and a click of the tongue:
Oh how scary change is before we realize it's all we can count on! If only we could just stave it off, but every shift reminds us that we cannot cling and in the beginning that feels devastating.
Here in California we don't have cicadas (this wing came from a lovely, talented friend in the southeast) but if we did, I reckon the sound would make me smile. I'd shout,
"Ahoy to the season of pomegranates and persimmons! Hello to the rains that we miss all summer long! I barely know ye, last season's most beloved sweater- hop on!!
Let's take long car rides to the north bay
pick apples in Alum Rock
and sip hot cocoa while my baby grows strong inside of me..."
yes - cicada wings bring change, and signal the seasons of our lives, without which we'd never know our bliss and our pains as well as we do.
It was always late August, the sun was busy roasting the grass a dirty yellow and the sound of the first cicada always bore through my ears like a drill.
The harbinger of school,
the dirge of coming autumn, falling leaves and a signal that growing up was immanent.
One summer taller, one summer closer to all of the fears of a sensitive child: change, aging and beginnings.
Here, halfway through my thirties and having developed a healthy (though apprehensive) appreciation for all the things I once misunderstood, I can look back on that dear child with compassion and a click of the tongue:
Oh how scary change is before we realize it's all we can count on! If only we could just stave it off, but every shift reminds us that we cannot cling and in the beginning that feels devastating.
Here in California we don't have cicadas (this wing came from a lovely, talented friend in the southeast) but if we did, I reckon the sound would make me smile. I'd shout,
"Ahoy to the season of pomegranates and persimmons! Hello to the rains that we miss all summer long! I barely know ye, last season's most beloved sweater- hop on!!
Let's take long car rides to the north bay
pick apples in Alum Rock
and sip hot cocoa while my baby grows strong inside of me..."
yes - cicada wings bring change, and signal the seasons of our lives, without which we'd never know our bliss and our pains as well as we do.
All of the necklaces are in the shop, both those reserved and unreserved
Have a wonderful Wednesday in your part of the world!
xoxo,
Allison
