exciting news!

I have exciting things coming up in the writing world! I am a long time reader and admirer of Style and Pepper - and the darling lady behind it, Jessie! - and I am so happy to announce that we have been working together on a new project for the blog, a series called "Impact."

I will be writing regularly for the blog about companies, designers and artists who are up to great things in the fashion business - whether it is philanthropic. fair trade or full of hope. It's a creative endeavor I am so glad to be a part of and these stories are totally up my alley! You can see the first in the series here! Stay tuned for more writing from me over there!

life from another perspective.

just a favorite. I'll be back with some of my own thoughts later on, but for now, here are some words that aren't my own but feel so familiar they kind of feel like they are:

"In August we carried the old horsehair mattress,
to the back porch
and slept with our children in a row.
The wind came up the mountain into the orchard
telling me something;
saying something urgent.
I was happy.
The green apples fell on the sloping roof
and rattled down.
The wind was shaking me all night long;
shaking me in my sleep
like a definition of love,
saying, this is the moment,
here, now."

{Ruth Stone, 1915-2011.}

chirp, chirp, clink, clink.

when I start a painting, there is just a big white void staring back at me. velvety paper, thick canvas stretched tight. it needs something big first.  the first step usually for me is covering the entire blank, white canvas with color and adding in the details later.

in a new city, a new life, a new chapter,

there are these same elements. the same colors to start out with.

there are the streets I always take, winding through the neighborhoods and past the museum with it's sweeping oaks, across the busy main road and back into the neighborhoods with ivy vines on the sides of houses.

there are the pathways I like to walk when going to the mailbox...down the street, right at the corner, past the apartment complex with the dog in the window.

there are the familiar sounds of a usual day's end at the tea shop. dinner for the people taking over the shift, eaten while leaning against the counter discussing various meat-cutting techniques and the recipe for asian noodles.

sautee the vegetables in the flavor first, are the instructions amidst the gentle clink of plates in the sink.

there are the carillion bells at the church I have been visiting. every sunday morning, clanging. it makes it feel like sunday.

the sunlight filtering through the trees in a particular way starts to feel familiar. the hum of the window AC and the creak of the hardwood floors feel like home.

I wake up and one morning, I  don't feel like a visitor anymore.