Sunday, September 28, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
After hosting a couple of Hurricane evacuees and teaching an altered book workshop, I am ready to start tearing, painting, glueing and sewing a stack of free library books and turn them in to little pieces of artwork to sell during the Antique Show coming up next week...thanks PJ for your encouragement.
With just a bit of a breeze and slight rainfall, we were spared the wrath of Ike. Fortunately we became a lighthouse for the less fortunate who suffered loss of homes, trees, and power as they fled here to our home of safety for friendship, laughter, great food and even some live guitar music! The fullmoon marinated the past few nights as folks gathered under the stars and cool weather to seek shelter from the storm. Henry strummed his guitar wailing and yodeling passionately his best rendition of Hank Williams and George Jones. Kirei and Riun cuddled in the chair together as Matt and I glowed in the soft light of the living room where we all felt a sense of kindness, peace and harmony. Jason and Csssie passed thru town for hugs and their precious kids Cadence and Greenley gathered shells, lizards and rocks for tiny little pockets.
Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure. Helen Keller
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Nine Eleven will be engraved in our memory bank for years to come. But today I am grieving over another tragic memory. Hurricane Rita, aka 'That Bitch" destroyed my Village Creek-house, and the life that began there so many years ago.Right now I live 150 miles inland from the Gulf Coast, yet everyone around me is preparing for Ike. I thought I was hurricane proof, since I have already been bitten. But the frenzy all around me today transcended me into that dreary day when Ryan called me after climbing thru the forest of fallen pine trees, 100 year old, 100 feet tall. Now crashed down on the ground where we used to hike, bike and plant gardens. I remember his voice as it trembled saying to me " Deb, your sewing room is gone." I remember digging in the mud to rescue old buttons, beads and shattered collections of mirrors, fabric and photographs. I remember carving a path to the canoe, smashed under another pine tree, only to find that it was buried too deep in the ground to recognize. Once upon a time, it was a sailing vessel to the moonlit sandbar on so many occasions.I remember standing on what once was my roof, now under my feet to protect me from the broken glass, metal roofing and the shards of furniture that were twisted and mangled.I remember how surreal it was to be walking amongst treetops that used to shade me from way up in the sky. I remember how quiet the forest was, because all the birdies, frogs and crickets lost their homes. Just like me, lost. I remember the blood, sweat and tears Melissa and I shed trying to prepare for the arrival of W.A. I remember the beginning of the end. I remember. MAY EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US BE SPARED THE WORST FURY IN THE PATH OF IKE.
Monday, September 8, 2008
My next door neighbors laundry hanging on the line this morning transcended me to Isla Mujeres, Mexico, where I lived before I came to Carmine. The local 'Lavederias" used the same strong smelling detergent that permeated the air all over the island mixed with Pollo BBQ, taquerias, and Tikin Xic ( traditional fish grilled on a plank on open fire) Funny how a familiar scent can take you so far away to another time and place like it was right this very moment. So have a wander with me down some familiar sights of my old neighborhood, and tell me if you can smell it too...?