Recovery

 

This word describes so many things in my world right now. Maybe yours too? Unexpected things happen to us and around us over which we have limited or no control. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to not be in control. It’s frustrating and scary. But it’s a place we all know well and if we can share it in our common space, maybe we can find ways to pull through it all together. 

Seasonal lessons.

I am in a season of recovery. I am home from the hospital successfully put back together. I’ve known for many months I needed help. I knew my body’s pain was a message and while I tried to get help, all I got were bandaids in the form of antibiotics. I went from winter to spring to summer and fall asking why I kept having UTI’s. I got no answers.

 

A few weeks ago, a CT scan showed an abscess from last year had never left my body and was leaking bacteria and causing all those UTI’s. The cure was abdominal surgery and reconstruction. I am now ‘fixed’. 

While the trees drop their leaves and prepare to rest through the winter, it is my time to rest as well. It’s hard for me to drop my routines. Pulling and pushing and rolling out clay. Doing yoga. Lifting weights. Picking up my grand baby. But, to recover my strength, I must rest. 

Color therapy. 

The leaves in the park are falling, layering the grass and walkways in layers of color. I love all the gorgeous red, yellow, orange and purple. And even though I don’t like brown, it adds a base for the other colors to shine. 

Like the trees outside, I let my fears and anger and shock and sadness drop like leaves from the past year. I see the layers of branches unseen before like organs in my body, the structures now strong.

As I walk through the park, I drink in the layers of color. I bend myself gently to pick up a few fallen leaves to take home. I play a little with watercolors and pens and yarn. And I read and rest and eat and nap. 

And just as the trees bud in spring, I feel the prickles of nerves searching to unite and flourish once again. 

Searching for answers

And finding none

Be brave 

Time will tell 

And all will be well. 

Season of Change

 

I can’t believe it’s November already. Leaves have fallen. The garden is harvested. And trees, bushes and flowers have been trimmed. Mother Nature is shortening the sunshine getting us all ready for winter. I don’t know if I’m ready, yet. 

I do love the color changes. Hydrangeas turn from bright blue to burgundy as they dry in vases around the house. Leaves float down in shades of bright yellow, gold and red. I always find this season inspiring which leads to different work in the studio. 

Changing leaves. 

It’s this time of year when I can collect my favorite leaves in the park. I admit, I don’t know the species of tree. Maybe it’s a Maple? But I love the shape and size and structure of these leaves. So I carefully collect them and carry them home putting them under light plastic covers to keep them fresh. 

In the studio, I roll out my favorite clay and carefully imprint each leaf on it. Then, I draw through the clay following the leaf shape and place each one on the shelf to slowly dry. 

What starts out as leaf and clay ends as a finished porcelain plate or platter in shades of gray or burgundy. 

Changing life. 

My husband and I are into a new life phase many call ‘retirement’. I don’t like the word because it implies we are not doing anything but sitting around. And it’s definitely not true for us. 

We may not be working 9-5 but we are both still active and productive. We are both taking care of our grandchildren several times a week. We walk every day and we are both producing creative work. 

He’s busy writing and producing new podcasts on Substack. 

I’m busy in the studio making sculptures, leaves and lily vases. And selling my work in a new local gallery. 

Like the seasons, life changes. 

And while somethings fall away, 

Other things can bloom and grow. 

We can’t stop time from flying, 

But we can enjoy the flight. 

Making and Baking and Moving On

It’s foggy outside making it hard to see the partial solar eclipse but that’s ok. Walking through the park, I can admire it anyway. I love the soft blurry light along side the crisp crescent edges. The park is quiet, even the ducks are silent. It’s calm and cozy beautiful. 

And I realize, as I walk along with Michael and Darby, that it’s all good. It’s a surprising feeling after all the unwanted change, grief, fear and frustration of the last 7 months. But somehow, like the fog, a sense of softness and serenity has enveloped me. Quietly.  Slowly. And without my conscious thought, I’m stepping into a new life. 

Making.

I’m a maker and a dreamer who sees things not just with my eyes, but with my hands. I love color and texture and words. I don’t always know what I’m doing but I do it anyway. I started out painting in watercolor when I was 16 and I fell in love with its flow and softness. Wet into wet watercolor is just so juicy and pure. 

Lately, I’ve been experimenting with using watercolor techniques on clay. I’m not quite there, yet, but I’m enjoying the process. Here’s what came out of the kiln this week. 

I’ve also been playing with small clay animals and angels. Maybe it’s the young grandchildren who fill my life right now that’s inspired these colorful characters. I’m not sure and I don’t think it really matters. They’re fun to make and isn’t that the goal?

Baking.  

It’s that time of year, cool and foggy, when I just love to bake. One of my favorites are Macaroon cookies. But now with all fall weather and misty mornings, I’m craving pumpkin bread. 

Baking up a loaf or two fills my kitchen with warm aromas and my heart with comfort. And what could be better than a warm slice right out of the oven with a freshly brewed cup of tea. 

Moving On.

Life changes and it changes us as well. I’ll admit I struggle with change, even when it’s a good change. My body and mind quiver with anxiety. I lose sleep. Sometimes I gain weight, sometimes I lose weight. And I know we‘ve all been through a lot of changes in the past three years, so you might be going through some of these feelings, too. 

Somehow, like the seasons, I’ve moved onward. It happened so slowly I didn’t even see it. But I feel it now. 

There’s a soft, quietness inside and around me

Wrapping around me like a warm sweater

I’m ok now, it’s saying

Breathe in, smell the fresh pumpkin bread baking

Sip your tea with a happy sigh. 

Hello Fall!

Cool air flows through my window. Clouds fill the blue gray sky. Yellow, gold and red color peeps in between the green leaves in the distant hills. Fall is here. Finally. 

I’ll admit, I haven’t always been a fan of Fall. It felt sad to see Summer go and see my kids go back to school. I love summer’s roses and lavender. The taste of fresh, warm garden tomatoes and crunchy cucumbers. But this year, I’m breathing a sigh of relief that those 90-100 degree days are behind me. 

Fall leaves fresh from the kiln. 

It was a delight to fire up my kiln with a load full of new porcelain leaves. I collect the actual leaves from my nearby park so I’m never sure what I’ll find. This year was a great year. I found many lovely leaves in several sizes to use in my studio. 

I roll out slabs of porcelain clay and carefully push the leaves into the soft surface. Once they set up, I cut all the edge details and decide which ones I’ll use as bowl shapes or plates. After slow, careful drying, I bisque fire clay and the actual leaves burn away. Then I add a wash of color. Finally, the leaves are glazed and fired. 

Pinecones and pumpkins.

Changing up for the fall season around my house means adding the delicious smells of vanilla, pumpkin and cinnamon. I love making arrangements of pine cones, acorns from the park and mini white pumpkins. 

As the color slowly changes outside, I always add some color changes inside. 

Ceramic leaves in crimson and black. 

Teal and crimson birds, vases of late blooming hydrangeas. 

Seasonal inspiration. 

In the studio, I’m playing with new ideas. After being forced out of my studio last year, I found creative comfort in playing with an old friend, watercolor painting. I took watercolor classes with a local artist when I was sixteen. I loved how the colors flowed and melded using the wet into wet technique. It was my comfort then and now. 

So I thought I might try taking my love of watercolor painting and combining it with clay. This is my first attempt and I’m  not sure if I like how it turned out.  

But I’ve decided to let fall changes inspire me to make some changes, too. 

Small joys

 

This year I’ve decided to jump into fall. I don’t always love this time of year, but right now I need something to bring me joy. My kitchen is still in pieces. There is still no timeline or schedule as to when the reconstruction will begin. 

Since I haven’t been able to work in clay and I’ve run out of closets to clean, I took out my clippers and went to work outside. I trimmed the lavender and rosemary. I shaped up the Nandina and Hydrangeas. I made herbal sachets for the drawers and closets filled with rosemary, lavender, cedar and lemon oils. Now every time I open my closet, I smell summer all over again.

Fall flowers. 

I love chrysanthemums. But my very favorite are hydrangeas from my own backyard. The colors are so gorgeous. Burgundy. Purple. Deep Turquoise. I had so much fun arranging them around the house in big lily vases and small ruffle vases. Mixing in sculptures and porcelain leaves and witches is a joyful way for me play with nature and art. 

 

Pumpkins!

It wouldn’t be fall for me without pumpkins. This year, we found a treasure trove of white pumpkins growing in our garden. My simple joy: grouping them around the house. 

Another joyous event: a trip to our local farm and pumpkin patch with my daughter, son-in-law and grandchild. The farm had a small scale train to ride and fresh caramel corn!

Splurge. 

I don’t have a kitchen right now, so I splurged on decorating my front porch. The inside of the house might not look very good right now but the outside can. I couldn’t resist hanging a new wreath, putting out our white pumpkins along with a black metal one on the front porch. 

And I found a way to use more white pumpkins, with a white pumpkin candle and a wonderful handmade crow from fiber artist, Teri Grant. 

I can’t reconstruct my kitchen myself and it makes me sad. But my husband pointed out, right now we have to make our own happiness. So everyday I’m trying, one small joy at a time. 

Simply Fall

It’s a blustery day and I love it. There is stew simmering in the slow cooker, fresh rolls rising and a cup of tea is steeping. I’m grateful to welcome this season, yes, even with COVID.

A rainy afternoon with a clean house and cup of tea. 

A kiln firing with new teacups, teapots, bowls and plates. 

A Halloween Raven wreath on my front door, a banner on the porch, a pumpkin and chrysanthemum on the porch. 

A plate of freshly baked chocolate cookies made by my husband and best friend, Michael. 

Spirits of the trees, a mask and pumpkin scented candles. 

A shape-changer sculpture and a crow made by an artist friend.

I’m grateful for all of these warm, creative, decorative, fun, tasty, scented, bright, spirited art and delicious tastes. It’s my simple way of celebrating fall. 

Turning Darkness into Light.

In the northwest, this is the time of year we ‘fall back’ by turning our clocks back one hour. It’s an old law that was meant to give farmers more time to work in the fields harvesting crops. It made sense then, it makes no sense now. And yet, we are still stuck in lock step, turning our clocks back the first Sunday in November. 

No one seems to like ‘springing forward’ or ‘falling back’. We all complain about lack of sleep and it upsets our body’s own natural rhythms. There’s evidence of more accidents and health issues around each time change. Which is why I’m glad the west coast has voted to stop these time changes. 

Why do we try to control time?

Because we are just one species on one planet in a vast universe. We’re afraid. One of the most elemental fears is darkness. As children, we all wake up in the night afraid of the dark. We fear monsters in the darkness under the bed or shadows in the corners. 

And we all know many reasons to fear the dark. There are dangerous animals outside. Violent people on the streets. More accidents happen in the night. So it makes sense to want to create more light when the days grow shorter and the nights last longer. 

Light is essential to our body, mind and soul.

We need light to survive. Sunshine gives our body what we need to make Vitamin D. Seasonal light changes affect our need for food and our moods. More light, well, just helps us feel lighter, too. 

That’s why we turn on the lights all around us 24/7. We want to feel safe. Protected. Healthy. With all these lights, and screens and daylight savings time, could we be missing something?

Maybe we need to honor the need for darkness too. 

Just like the earth needs the change in seasons, so do we. After the blooms are gone and fruit is picked, the trees need to rest. Leaves fall to the ground and create fertilizer for the next years  growth. 

Darkness cools and soothes and cradles new seeds and sleeping babies. Perhaps seasonal light changes not just trees but our very nature, too. 

We can slow down. Tuck into bed early. Rest by the fire. 

Let ourselves look up at the darkness as a place to imagine and dream. 

Bringing possibility out of nothing. 

Finding new ideas in the blank canvas of night.