This girl made her annual foray into Tucson for the gem shows last week. It was a weird year, not being a vendor down there after selling in the shows for 22 years. It felt so odd not to work even though I filled in at a friend's booth for a few hours. I had time, lots of time to shop nearly every day until I was worn out from walking and carrying and talking and my brain felt over used and over stimulated making decisions and seeing so many beautiful things.

There was sadness in the air down there as the shows are changing. There are less customers and fewer vendors. Large open spaces in several shows filled with chairs and not sellers.

The desert though is beautiful. Rich and warm and almost inviting. The cactus just beginning to bloom. Female cardinals jumping in the branches of bushes, singing.Grassy areas were green, dormant areas rich golds and browns. The sky so blue, the clouds so white, the air so fresh - I found a picnic bench in a park. Just sitting. Thinking. Contemplating.

Tomorrow, after a shop day, I'll post pictures of my day in the park and then we'll talk stones and gems.

Sweet dreams.

These are just a few, very few of the charms and religious pieces that I cast. My website has many more at www.wynwoods.com and some are on display in my shop in Port Townsend. 

Together.

Treasure tubes.

New piece added into the shop.

Love the colors here.

Playful necklaces.

Just a drop in to say hello to my blog and add pictures of the work I've done this week. I love being in the studio. Alone in my head and playing with so many colors and textures. 

Driving home in a misting yet soaking rain tonight, I had a thought that shook me to my heart's core, making me nearly stop my car. My ex-husband and I were together for 20 years before we separated and divorced. In that time we made memories, had a life together, grew up, grew wiser, learned new things, explored new places and spent lots of time talking, making the memories I always thought we would be able to share even as we were not a couple anymore. To look back on and remember. To share stories with each other and our children and grandchildren. To always have those days of youth, health and happiness. Safely stored where we could reach for them anytime like ripened apples from a tree.

This summer, I learned he is losing his memory. Dementia I am told. Mid stage. He didn't recognize me even as I hugged him at Charlie's memorial service. I thought his reaction was left over anger. I did not recognize it for what it was to become.

There can be no more anger in me for the loss of our marriage. Everything in the life we knew has been replaced with sorrow. Sorrow on my part. Sorrow he is not even aware of. Sorrow he can not recall or place.

He can not remember our stories or how to play the piano, guitar, accordion, recorder or banjo. The banjo I saved my paychecks from the bookstore for one full year to buy. He can no longer build furniture or play cribbage. The person he was is gone and on a Saturday family gathering recently, the first in years, he was a child. Childlike. Lost in a group of people he loved. Searching faces for who they were, searching for answers that even if told, would not stay with him.

The thought that shook me tonight was purely selfish on my part. If I am the only one left to remember our stories, did they happen or in my awayness from him, is there any point in my remembering? I am alone in my memories and I just did not see that coming. For that reason sadness and grief have become my companions.

We are already 3 finished days into the new year and I have yet to wish all of you a very Happy, Healthy, Safe, Lovely, Fun, Creative, Loving, Busy New Year. Love to all and may all your dreams come true. As for me, I promise to stand up straight, meditate more and breathe deeply all the while being kind and loving, patient and creative. Let the good times and a new year begin!

Christmas 2015 - cold, wet, raining

Christmas Eve. If I go to bed, it is admitting that Christmas Eve is over and we have moved into Christmas Day. The hours move forward much faster than I would like. I am missing all that I had in the Christmases of my childhood. My grandparents. My family. Even the " relationships " I had with my sisters. It was a time of peace when we were little kids and all got along. The super fat trees my dad always picked. The ham mom made for Christmas dinner and the homemade chocolate chip cookies we would eat for breakfast after opening gifts. I miss so much.

Making new memories is always on my mind. It is the first time in 33 years there are no children in my house. My sons are grown, with lives of their own. No one wakes up at dawn's early light anymore to open gifts. There is not a mess all over the house as one gift is opened and played with before the next present is claimed.

Tonight, Abigail and Maia were here. A short few hours of company of the sweetest kind. Each and every Christmas now, I am going to make new stories to tell and keep close to my heart. Sing new songs. Wrap new gifts. Pass along kindness to everyone I meet. Happy Christmas and goodnight.

A Turn

I always figured that when I was well into my eighties, that my hands would limit the time I could do craft and art work and I would settle down and write. Be an old woman writer. There are stories in my head that I want to get down on paper. Experiences that have led me here and there that need a written record. If I do not write down things about the 1970's and on into these years, who is to say that anything will be remembered by anyone? I have made it a priority for 2016 that I will begin to write, in this blog, the stories and narrative that wake me in the small hours of the morning. The nighttime grope for pen and paper to scrawl the words upon clean lined pages as fast as they tumble forth from my sleep edged thoughts.

This blog is going to become, or rather I am hoping it becomes, not only a repository of my charms and artwork but of my days. Look out 2016, she is or I am - beginning.