A Happy Challenge

"But before that I have to tag five other bloggers to go forth and produce their 10th photo post!! So if they'd like to participate, the goal is to find your 10th photo in your 1st photo folder and discuss what you were thinking when the photo was taken. I'm passing this tag onto ;
Suzan at Old Grey Mare "

I have mentioned my friend Julie before. Besides being just plain wonderful this gal's talents blow me away! Saturday I see she has a new post, and I scroll down through each photo as always, devouring every one and what's this?
I've been tagged.

My first reaction was panic, because after I peeked at the other gals she tagged, I felt my photographic abilities paled in comparison. But fully engaged in the spirit,
I went to my archives and with much trepidation looked to see what my 10th photo in my first folder was. That's the deal, you have to take your 10th photo and talk about it.
I thought with my luck it would be another of my "before" client pictures and I'm sure they would not be happy for me to post any of those. For those of you who do not know this about me, I organize for people and if they've hired me it is to help with a shall we say "mess?"

Bless darling daughter! The 10th down in 2008 was one of hers, (and mine).
My very first assignment for the local magazine "polished" was being discussed and I needed to send over some ideas and photo suggestions. I asked darling daughter to take some quick shots of some of my memory bowls.

I had never used iPhoto before and after several hours of
playing around with effects and adjustments this is what I ended up with. Not only did I get the job, they used our photos and Hannah was given her first photo credit!

I was lucky enough to contribute to six more issues
before the magazine fell to poor economic times.

I still make these memory collections for clients.
They're always very personal and always a big hit!

Thank you Julie - you're the best

Please visit Dash, Jeanne, Cecellia, and Sharon

to see what they found for their 10th post, and meet some new friends.

Please visit all the other WW hosted by Kathleen @ Faded Charm

link over there to your right----------->

If they wish to participate and if they have time;

for these are very busy women

I wish to tag:

Erin at Erin's Art and Gardens

Carola at Boxwood Cottage

Kathleen at Faded Charm

June at Laughing with Angels

Carole at Maynard Greenhouse

Suzan

They Got Me

They got me.

Over several years I watched and listened with interest
and great admiration at all the creations that came
forth from their studios.
I bought a few beads and trinkets here and there over the years,
but proudly maintained my single shelf of bead paraphernalia,
vowing never to start another hobby.
I occasionally produced a pair of earrings here and there,
a necklace for darling daughter, but nothing of note.

I don't know what happened.
I was invited to a a gathering of the evil bunch to create
that bird necklace remember that? It was fun and we ate after.

Shortly after that, there was a glass and bead show in town.
I attended, spent a considerable amount and we ate after.
It was loads of fun.

A couple nights ago, another impromptu gathering of the devils
and they worked on bracelets and I worked on these three.
We ate while we worked.
Now, understand these gals are true artisans, real designers,
their stuff is PHD level and I'm in pre-K.
BUT

They got me.

I also never showed you my finished bird necklace.
Not as involved as Heather's original design, or Jan's
version, but remember I'm a newbie.

Now they're telling me about the great bead show in June.
They're evil I tell you, evil...but they've got me.
Sarah, Heather, Jan, Suzie, even you Tanya.
Lead me where you may, just be sure we
get to eat after.

Water under the Bridge

That's what he said. Water under the bridge. Thirty seven years ago he walked to his car,
drove away and we never spoke again. Today we are exchanging emails
after finding each other on Facebook.

A college love affair - crazy, confusing, youthful mistakes and regrets.
All those shared memories of that single bubble in time.

Trying to condense 37 years into an email. Marriages, divorces, births, deaths.
How do you make your life sound interesting yet be truthful. Do you tell all?
Do you embellish? Keep it lighthearted, or spew out all the grit and grime?

Summing it all up, your failures, your blessings, a balance of both,
trying to leave an impression of contentment, a good life.
Why should it matter? 37 years later, someone you have thought of,
but never contacted is suddenly in your address book,
their letter waiting in your email.

It has thrown me off kilter. Forced memories long buried. Why did I? Why didn't I?
Forced examination of self. Not always a comfortable exercise to be sure,
and in this case, quite difficult for me.
That last year we knew each other, was one of my most tumultuous.
I was not always kind to those who loved me
and Karma quickly smacked me down in return.

I struggle with the benefits versus the negatives of all this technology.
Being on Facebook and having a blog, I am still under the impression
that the benefits are in the lead. But all this goes deep, the intimacy we share
with virtual strangers, the risk of judgment by others. Scary stuff.

You are not assured of happy outcomes when you reconnect. Living so far from
my home town and having no family left there I have never attended a school reunion.
All those friends, long lost, are frozen in time in my memories.
They have not aged, they have not changed.
With FB, suddenly their photos are there and I study them with intensity,
shocked at first at how they've aged, ignoring what they would think
if they were able to see my photo, which I do not post.
I am awed by the bravery of all those who post their not always
flattering images for all to scrutinize. I am not that brave.

Bravery is required. To honestly type out the truth, with it's shame and triumph.
To face yourself on this Facebook as well as put your best face forward.

It IS all water under the bridge, these histories,
but those currents can swiftly take you somewhere
that you are not always prepared to visit. Keep your life vest handy.

Suzan

Garden Visitors

My garden is showing off. All the blooms bursting open,

teasing with color mixes never before seen around these parts.

Roses boasting with size and abundance.

This morning's sunlight spotlighted a garden visitor.

Tucked tightly into the bottle brush blooms, a home

of twigs and strings and paper. Last year this was the nesting spot of
a mockingbird family. Not yet sure whose home it is this year. This is a
brand new nest of different shape and size, and obviously,
like all good real estate it has
location, location, location.

This visitor showed no fear of me, intent on a cool sip of water.

Going way down for the slurp

Begin the head tilt

Bring it way up, so it trickles back and down
Open for the big swallow...

HEY! Are you looking at me?

There Are Moments and Miracles

There are moments.
Aha moments! I'll never forget the look on her face moments.
My world will never be the same moments.

Darling daughter has many assignments in her studio art classes.
She was welding a hot air balloon earlier this week.

While video chatting last evening she said "Mama, I want to show you something."
With the sweetest of smiles she pulls a large canvas into view and there I am:
17 years old, my Senior Year photo painted onto canvas.

Darling daughter had taken to college a coveted old sewing tin from my Great Aunt.
In it were small treasures, mementos from home,
and squirreled away in there I suppose was this picture.
In the photo, I am a year younger than she is now and it is not difficult to see
that she is my child, my likeness, and yet, not me.

Of all the images in the world to paint for an assignment, darling daughter chose this one,
and even added a few letters of my HS nickname Rennie in the corner.
Peculiar she would do that since it was discussed pre-birth as a possible name
for her ...along with Paisley, a paternal name, also considered.
I have been thanked many times for NOT using that one.

I will never forget this moment. Her peeking behind the canvas,
holding it up so I could see the entire piece on my computer screen,
all the while saying "it's not finished, but I wanted you to see."

What I saw was,
my darling daughter seeing me.
Not just as her Mom, not just a middle aged, often poorly dressed,
occasional authoritarian figure, with jiggly bits and double chins.
She saw me as we all can see ourselves with eyes closed and hearts open.
17 and beautiful, bursting with dreams and plans.
That summer of 7o I don't yet know that
many of those dreams will come true and many of them won't.
I don't know that I will be so blessed with my children
and will mourn both parents passing way too soon. I am frozen in time,
unaware that hearts really can and do shatter, but keep on beating out a new rhythm.

There are moments when you feel your children inside your heart
as you felt the movements inside the womb.
Tangible, thumping, beating, a living part of you.
I see my child as the young woman she is, as the little girl she was,
as the woman she is becoming. The miracle is; she sees me.

She told me as she worked on the canvas there were difficult areas
she struggled with and she was able to go to a mirror
and study the length and breadth of her nose, of her brows, to copy.
The miracle is; she sees me in her, and wanted to capture the moment.

Must Be the Rain

There is a large birdhouse trellis under there.

Can you see it?

These little white charmers are new this year.
They seem to like their new home.

New cilantro and parsley garden being invaded

In 2 months this baby will be over 4 ft high and equally wide.

Love the metals in the garden

Roses hidden in the shadows. So much foliage this year.
We've had a full year's worth of rain in 3 months.

Dozens of these babies ready to burst into bloom

I have been blogging frequently about the garden this year, much to my surprise.
I don't think of myself as a gardener, though I've always tinkered.
( and cruelly sacrificed many a plant in my day)

But lately everything is doing so well; the deep greens, glossy leaves,
larger and fuller blooms are everywhere.Perhaps the grass that I recently removed,
absorbed too much water all those years and starved all the other plants.
Something has changed, because I can still be neglectful.

It must be the rain.

It's Not about the eggs

Several years back, darling daughter had a friend visiting over

the Easter weekend. Dearest son had already
moved on to college so it was just the girls and me.

One of the Easter traditions I began pre-teen
years, in order to reduce the amount of
sugar overload in the baskets, was an Easter Egg hunt
in the back yard.
Since the kids were long passed wanting to dye the eggs,
I had resorted to the plastic kind with the twist of filling them
with coins from the "change tin".

Although the girls were not expecting it, and would have preferred
to sleep in after a very late night before, I rousted them out
and shoved them into the yard for "the Hunt".

I was sure that the thrill of competition would take over and
soon these girls "much too old" for an Easter Egg hunt were running
and giggling all over the yard looking for a glimpse of the
yellow, pink, green and blue eggs.


Once all the eggs had been discovered each girl twisted
open the eggs and began to pile their loot onto the
porch table to count. Every year,
including this one, a surprising turn of events. No matter
how uneven each egg's number and value of coins; no matter
the disparity among number of eggs collected by each hunter:
the amount of coins always, every year, would be
within one dollar's difference of each hunter.

Darling daughter who was to be home in a month, has been
accepted into Tisch, the film school of NYU. Although we are thrilled,
this requires her to stay on for a class in summer school,
and delays her arrival home. Dearest son, residing far away
in Oregon may not be here for a visit as soon as I anticipated.

I miss my children every day, every hour, but the Holidays seem
to deepen the intensity for the longing I feel to wrap
them in my arms and hold tight. Will we ever do another hunt?
Will I repeat this with grandchildren some day? If I am long since gone,
will they repeat it with their children on their own?

Easter- it's not about the eggs.

In my Garden

Wishing a safe and Happy Easter to everyone!

My friend Julie did the first photo for me. Is that the coolest or what?
What a sweet, wonderful and talented gal.
I ADORE her blog. Go see it here. Right now!


My cup truly runneth over. Look at this one!
I am bouncing in my chair I'm so excited!
I have to learn how to do this or maybe I'll just send all
my Pics to Julie for her MAGIC touch.

Julie, thank you so much, I am thrilled!

Garden Whites

Spent Monday and Tuesday in the garden, cleaning up the winter debris

and putting down new mulch. I still have two more afternoons of planting,

(if the winds behave), and I should be ready for the warm weather.

I didn't shoot the full view of the yard, because I still have tarps, bags of soil,

and upended pots scattered everywhere, so I just shot little snippets.

I have old decrepit items scattered all over the yard.

I put this brick path down many years ago. It took me days,

but it was worth it. It was always a little soupy there after the rain.

The assorted birdhouses and containers extend the length of the wall.

Love my wheelbarrows. I have two in the yard.

One of my favorite birdhouses. It is huge.

Yep, it works. I replaced the 16 year old pump yesterday,

after it died on me last winter.

It sits below my living room window and the sound is wonderful.

I am perhaps the only country garden in this city. I have never

heard of another or seen any others around here like this. It is the

only way I can tolerate desert living.

This has a five foot stand and is also a favorite.

No, maybe this is my favorite, see the little door?

Too many empty pots, so much more to do. I had better get crackin'.

Please visit all the other WW's over there at Kathleen's link-------->
You must enter Kathleen's great giveaway. Click the Faded Charm link
to get there quick and enter!

Bird Necklace by Heather French

Here is the original necklace and the companion necklace
designed by Heather French, that I mentioned in the prior post.

They're just, well, dreamy... SO pretty and delicate.
Heather's designs are just wonderful, with perfect wraps,
(that I might perfect in the next 2 years or so.)
Heather is so generous with her time and her knowledge, and her
enthusiasm for this art form is contagious. Uh oh.