old pick-up on a warm sunny day and the scent of it worked a certain magic.
Eye's closed, it was 1966 and I was headed to the beach for the very first time in my grandfather's 1946 Dodge 2 door sedan...the designated vehicle for such journey's. It was a car that welcomed sandy feet and buckets of shells, its trunk permanently packed with blankets and digging tools. Like a rocket headed for the moon, that old car transported me to a new universe.
I recently had to spend some time at the hospital getting my thyroid tested...nothing serious mind you. If some body part has to mal-function, the thyroid is realtively easy to fix. So, i shouldnt have been scared. But i was....just a little bit.
I mean, people are always going into hospitals...they just don't always come out.
The fact that we live in a time where we describe anything that is functional, well-crafted and beautiful as "art" says a lot about life in the 21st century.
I worry about us. Our need for speed and instant gratification, that we equate cheap with good. I miss T.V. Repairmen...I miss everyone who used to repair things. Our lives should be full of things worth repairing.
Lori and Russell Ford happen to be glassblowers with a flock of chickens and a cow or two. They live about a 1/2 mile from me, with lots of other people's cows between us. Yesterday, I wandered down to their place to pick-up a dozen eggs. Lori has one Araucana chicken who lays the most beautiful greenish/blue eggs. I love opening the carton and seeing 1 or 2 of those magical eggs nestled in with all the other lovely shades of brown. It's not everywhere that you can buy a dozen eggs and a handblown glass to match!
A weaver of hand-dyed wool rugs who loves color. Each of my rugs begins with a color memory. Close your eyes and think of a favorite place or something seen that gives you pleasure....What colors do you see?