My husband tidied up the living room yesterday; all the magazines are sorted and stacked on the coffee table. Looking at the edge of the stack I saw more potential inspiration in the pattern of line and color — narrow strip quilting? free-form embroidery?
Another exquisitely beautiful autumn day! I decided to take the long way between buildings at work on a path that winds through acres of meadow. Along the way: silken-seeded milkweed pods in their final, ethereal glory.
A close-up view into a bouquet of dried flowers I purchased at farmstand along a country road in western Massachusetts on the Significant Birthday Weekend. As unlikely as I am to paint a realistic version of this, I am definitely thinking about what I can do with the pattern of color and texture as inspiration.
Six-month-old Shetland sheep alongside the Rhode Island Spinners Guild demonstration at the Johnny Cake Festival, in the tiny village of Usquepaugh, Rhode Island. This first coat of wool will stay on through the sheep’s first winter until shearing next spring in April.
We’ve had a perfectly beautiful autumn weekend — sheer beauty wherever we turned. This, the millstream at Kenyon’s Grist Mill, Usquepaugh, Rhode Island, where we’re thoroughly enjoying the annual Johnny Cake Festival.
At some time in the many years we have lived 1200 miles apart, my brother and I decided we could avoid some unnecessary stress and established a tradition of remembering each others’ birthdays in a purposefully belated fashion. It’s kind of nice to know that a little while after the Big Day yet one more surprise will arrive. This stack of sweet treats topped with a big golden bow arrived yesterday, not quite a week not-really-late.
Returned home from work to find the kids from across the street had filled the entire driveway with their chalk drawings. Someone (looking at you JayZee) must have told them that I’d wondered what they’d drawn last time — this set came with lots of little captions. The head at the top of the picture is “a sun with many rows of teeth and is wearing sun glasses;” just below and a bit to the left are small hand prints, labeled “hand prints.”
I haven’t yet discovered a label for the curlicue line, which meanders down most of the length of the driveway. There’s a big part of me that hopes it’s just that — a wandering, curly line that went wherever the young artists decided it wanted to go.