Kuriosities

I have finally added a new image gallery/ portfolio to the site. There are a bunch of metalsmithed pendants uploaded already today, but I have soooooo many more pieces to add to the galleries, but very limited time at the moment. I will be adding new photos to it daily, so check back often. Most of the photos will also have descriptions that will give you a little bit of insight into their inspiration, the techniques used, and the meaning and symbolism behind each piece. I will also be getting the new collection together as a cohesive group very soon, with a new webstore. In the meantime, just email me if you see something you like in the galleries – or better yet, contact me about making a custom piece just for you. I am working on many, many custom pieces at the moment – some of them quite exciting. I am always amazed at what people come up with, and it is a joy to be able to transform those ideas into the tangible. I can’t wait to share them with you!

I am becoming drawn in further and further by these magical little discs of loneliness. I came across a quote by George Orwell, that I think summed them up for me:

“We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.”

And to that effect, I have been creating new scenarios of connection and isolation. New ideas to represent longing and loneliness, new characters. And each disc will have a quote, part of it at the top of one side of the disc, and part at the bottom of the other side of the disc, so that when spun together you see the whole thing.

I have been scouring google images for old engravings to use to create collage scenes for the thaumatropes. I have found several so far. It is in the wee hours of the morning though, and I really have to stop working or I am going to run myself ragged. Short post today…hard to balance this new passion, with my daily orders for jewelry, and the flurry of custom work that has come my way this week. But it is exciting and that seems to be my current need. Maybe that is what my travel dreams are telling me… this need to reach new mythical places – all within reach.

My new passion….Thaumatropes! A little Victorian optical illusion toy that works on the theory of persistence of vision – that the retina of the eye retains an image for a fraction of a second after that image is gone. It is a little disc made of cardboard. On each side is a different image. A string is attached at opposite ends of the disc, and when it is rotated quickly the images on both sides of the disc combine to create one image.

I think the train of thought that led to this new obsession was something like steampunk interest, victoriana obsession, with a focus on themes of isolation and loneliness, and connection, and then add in all the recent stop animation stuff that the Raconteurs have done lately and suddenly I am in love with these archaic little toys.

So… I started to make one that was based on a tshirt from the recent Raconteurs tour, that had an image of George Washington’s life mask layered under the Raconteurs swirly “R” logo. So I went into Photoshop and made the lovely R image for one side, and then took an image of the George Washington mask that someone had found for me and altered it so that it looked exactly like the tshirt image, and put that on the other side. But when I put it all together (- and I did such a lovely job of it – all on cardboard, with gromits riveted in to hold the string and everything! ) and went to spin it, well, it was a huge failure. <sigh> It just turned into a complicated looking mishmash, and messed up Mr. Washington’s face. And nobody that tested it for me could see the image.

Soooo back to the drawing board. I took images from one of the loneliness theme posters that Rob Jones had created for the tour that had a small Brendan Benson in the foreground with a giant owl in the background, and made line drawings from it. I put Brendan on one side, and then the scene with the owl on the other…then spun the disc and SUCCESS! Hurray! The image became one. So then I took the image of LJ in the rowboat from the Consolers album inserts and made a line drawing from it. On one side I had him rowing the boat with his arms forward, and on the other side with his arms back. When you spin it, it looks like he is rowing the boat. Whoo! Excitement abounded.

Then as I was looking at one of my thaumatropes and pondering it, I started to think about the little figure in complete isolation on one side of the disc, and then the scene on the other side and how that was really quite significant. How that figure can be completely alone, but then joins in a scene when the disc is spun due to this “persistence of vision”, and this seemed rather hopeful. That is what started to enchant me most of all. But then I started to think about it more…and that figure does become an active part of the scene, true, but it is really only an illusion and in the end, when the big spin is over, they are alone again after all. And maybe we all are, really. And that is where I am at with that right now. So, I will be pursuing these ideas and themes over the next little while, and when I create a more polished version of my loneliness thaumatropes, I will post them here.

I found some images of antique Thaumatrope sets from the 1800’s. Some of them had little riddles on them. One side having the question, and the other having the answer, which was also solved by the combination of the images. I quite like this idea of the captions for them. They were also packaged so neatly in these cool little round boxes. And I can see quite clearly in my head, how my own little set would look. Fun!

Speaking of Raconteurs and all that, I did promise to write the whole story of my Toronto trip – but for some reason – I don’t want to. I guess I want to keep it for myself, either that, or I am lazy! So I will just give the condensed version of events. I flew to Toronto to go and see the concert with my brother. I unfortunately ended up going alone. As you know from previous blogs he was diagnosed with testicular cancer and had had surgery the week before. He was still going to come (bad idea), but then got ill from the dye from the CT scan that he had. (he is btw, now cancer clear and mending ) So I went alone. I went early as I am only 4′11″ tall, and figured that the only way for me to actually see the show would be to be in the front row. So while I was waiting outside the venue (all day), I saw the band walking to and from the tour buses and the doors. I managed to catch Patrick Keeler (the drummer)’s attention and he came over to talk with me, and I gave him my stamp pendants (see other blog posts), and talked about the album art – which I was much impressed and inspired by. I was really nervous, and hopefully didn’t act too goofy, though I am sure I likely did. I asked if it would be a possibility to meet the other band members, and Patrick said he would see, and that he would give me aftershow passes. Which he did later on in the day. The show was incredible. Just amazing, and everything that I hoped. Utterly inspiring.

I stuck around after the show, and saw Patrick again – who is, by the way, probably the nicest and most genuine person I have ever met. And I’m not saying that because he is some rock star guy, he is just really nice and kind and incredibly generous. The other band members didn’t come out, which actually was far less disappointing than I would have thought because…they wore my pendants on stage for the whole concert! Jack White, Brendan Benson, and Patrick Keeler, on stage with my pendants! Best night ever, really. And it was really so nifty to get to just talk to Patrick, that I kind of ended up not caring at all that I didn’t meet anyone else. I honestly wouldn’t have known what to say to the others (at least Patrick and I had art and metal work etc. in common), and I was nervous enough as it was… In fact, I don’t think I would change it, even if I could, it feels like it was just how that night was supposed to be.

And that is the rushed condensed version of events, and the story of why Brendan Benson has been wearing my necklace around the world, and why Jack had it on in Detroit (and I think, though I do not have any super clear pics to prove it, that Patrick has also worn it a few times during the tour). Anyways, here is my one and only pic of the night…I was kind of scared to ask for a picture, and felt silly (ie. stupid) really, as at the age of 35 I don’t usually really go out of my way to meet bands or get autographs and such anymore, (though Patrick was super nice about it) but kind of glad I did ask for one in the end. Though I look a bit of a mess (ok, a lot of a mess!)- I hadn’t slept in about 48 hours at that point…

(Click to make bigger in another window…)

We went to the beach today, at Panting’s Shore. It always has seals there, and sure enough, the first thing I saw was a seal in the water, which instantly made me happy (thus my often used online Selke). It was just a perfect beach afternoon. The tide was on its way out, so the water was calm, and warm, and shallow. We explored all of the little tidal pools and found assorted creatures – tiny shrimp, blue starfish, rock crabd, and hermit crabs. We climbed the huge red rocks and felt like kings and queens overlooking our watery kingdom. I felt the ocean breeze blow away all of the week’s stress. As I was wading through the waters though, I came upon a part of the shore where the sand was a bluish black. As I sank my feet into it, I felt the ground shifting under my feet, and then it sank suddenly as a huge release of gas erupted from beneath them. Ugghhh. It was a cloud of sulphuric gas. The kids thought this was funny to no end, and promptly dubbed that part of the beach the “Bog of Eternal Stench” (a reference to the David Bowie movie Labyrinth), and proceeded to find as many yucky gas pockets as they could and then laugh at my nauseated reaction. Which was kinda fun!

Also today, as I was looking out my studio window, I saw that the horses were sleeping – but that my Lyrical pony was running around as if she was terrified. So I went out to see what was the matter. The second she saw me, she came barreling towards me at top speed, nostrils all aflare. I had no idea what was wrong at this point, but she started towards me like she wanted to throw her whole body on me – which was not really a good idea seeing as she is about 950lbs, and I am a mere 106 (yes, thats right, two more pounds just disappeared this week). But she was desperate, so I just kind of danced around her attempts to throw herself into my arms while I tried to figure out what was happening. Suddenly she hit the ground and started thrashing around madly, rolling back and forth, and I spotted the troubles. A bot fly. Yes, a fly. But they are wretched horrible beasties that look like they are out of some horror sci-fi movie, so I understood her fear. They buzz around horses and deposit their eggs on their fur, one by one, and it was driving her bonkers. So I spoke to her and told her to get up, which she did, and promptly started trying to launch herself into my arms again. But I just kept talking to her calmly and asked her to whoa, and she finally listened long enough that I bravely splatted that disgusting fly, and then crunched it into the dirt. I have never seen a horse look at me quite the way that Lyrical did after that feat of bravery! I was her hero, and she then did put her head, gently, into my arms so that I could hold her and comfort her after her scary fly ordeal. And then I was her best friend, of course, and she didn’t want me to leave her side, and spent quite a while following me everywhere like an adoring puppy. I am so glad that I found that pony – she is just the sweetest girl ever. A trusty steed for adventures!

Here’s a picture of the villain, about life size (a smidgeon smaller in real life), and it has these awful eggs that it squeezes out its back end. Just, yuck:

Psyche By Proxy (an independence day tableaux of morning repentance)

i wanted to peek
the candle glow at midnight upon
your sleeping skin, to know that
you were you, to silent watch
the flicker of dreams
cross your lids, to cup
them in my hands, the way
you held mine
just here.

i wanted to peek
because i knew, because the
sheets were still warm with your
presence at dawn when
I woke alone. again.

i wanted, i want
the candle smolder held aloft
my wish whispered, spilled careless
from my lips, the hiss of
wax drops as you fell back
fell away
forevermore
forevermore 

I wanted… 

the sea holds my heart
holds the candle that still smolders with shame
rocks them tenderly to sleep, each night
pickled in brine and patience
each dawn the sun struggles
to pierce the weight of your
absence. to find the task that
earns your return.

forgive me.
forgive me.
forgive me. 

I was working on a new necklace today with antique keys and such, and was quite pleased with it. But I wanted a photo of it actually on a person so that it would show the way that the necklace fell. Me being the only female type person in the vicinity I elected myself as model with the caveat that no faces should appear in the photo, just my neck and bosom. My elected photographer, G, had just returned from a day of errands in town and was a little less enthused with the photography project handed to him upon his return. I was less enthused with the sun beating down on my head and didn’t think that my face was showing anyways – so the end result was a very grumpy and impatient looking bunch of pictures that were not as artfully wrought as they could have been had either of us not been moody as hell. They also do not show the necklace off at all either. We’ll try again another time. In the meantime, you can enjoy my scowls…

It is late and my eyes are tired. I am resigned to go to bed, but also wary of bed and all my muddled dreams. The recurrence night after night, the flights, the landings in cities I do not know – or maybe it is the same city night after night – some nights it is Paris, some nights I do not know,  the strange streets and buildings. These shadowy people, the way their faces cease to be clear. The searching. The oceans and their strange coloured waters. Come back to me. Again.

This Sunday past was filled with ponies. I took my Lyrical girl out for a ride, and despite not having been able to ride for the past many weeks, she behaved herself quite sweetly and did not try to toss me headlong into the meadow – for which I was very happy. It felt so good to be back up on her – but today it rained and there was no chance to go out – maybe tomorrow. I gave her a bath when we got back to the barn – she immediately went and rolled in the muck and turned her rosy grey self a deep rusty brown. So I gave her another bath, and this time she consented to remaining clean.

Wrestled with the little Sophie rotten pony – who reared and twisted with me in tow as I tried to trim her hooves. Playing blacksmith is not so much fun some days. I put her in front of a big bunch of green grass and she then behaved herself nicely, but not before a few bruised were scored ( score 1 ~ pony, score 0 ~ K). But in the end her little hooves were done.

The mosquitoes are frightening at the moment. We went to let Portobello in and also let in about 1000 mosquitoes that were clouding around him. When I wiped his fat self with a towel, the dead carcasses of hundred of the bloodsuckers fell to the floor and the towel was all bloody. Yuck. And poor piggie. He really cannot stay out past dusk any longer.

the way an atom is
everywhere at once, existing in multiples
vibrating simultaneously, but
altered
 my thoughts
 are your thoughts. in at least
one universe anyways. your
words spill wholely formed
crystalline marbles that tumble from
my mouth one
 by one.
 

The dream again. The plane as it lands slowly, the overpass climbs outside the window as it descends, the skid and the bump, the roar of the engine. A twilight street, stones underfoot, and someone familiar, yet also unknown, blurry around the edges. The ocean this time has turned blue. Was it always blue? Was I remembering wrong? Did green somehow distract me? A blanket, and a nest to rest my weariness in, to keep me safe and warm. And a longing for that (what? I don’t know, is the thing…) that could break my heart upon wakening – just – that feeling the same as the others, that there is something in this to know. If put to music this dream would be of Angels and Angles, that is the feeling of it – that space between time, “the purr of a pigeon to break the still of day” , “here’s a hand to lay in your open palm” as on we go drowning…But still, just a dream, that lingers long into the day and then fades out. One day I will stop its dreaming, or one day I will know where it begins. I hope the latter.

Yet another clockworks piece… This one entitled “Lost Time is Never Found Again” , a quote from Benjamin Franklin. I stamped the quote into the back of the pendant. It is all riveted together with sterling. I think my next pendant I may rivet with copper. I like sorting through all of the gears to find ones that may be pieced together, the contrast of metals, and working with areas of different elevation. I have tried to take photos that show these depths. Ta-da!

I have altered the pendant slightly from the next photo, I managed to carefully overstamp the letters where the rivets are, so now all parts of the letters are present in the engraving on the back.

I am waiting for only one more shipment of supplies to arrive to finish my necklace with the little Robin. Hopefully within the next couple of days. I am selling more and more gold pieces – which has been lovely. I love working with yellow gold, the way it feels under file, and the sheen when I polish it is just unrivaled. I hope to do more and more…Also was contacted by another large organisation to design custom pieces for them, which is lovely. They will also be carrying my retail lines in their different branches and storefronts – which is exciting. What also excites me is that I have never sought any of these clients out to date, they just keep finding their way to me…

Guitar playing is going along slowly but surely…though I am practicing like a fiend. I am determined to present myself this week at guitar lessons much improved over last week. I noticed a marked improvement today in my finger picking, which I have been practicing. The scales are helping my fingers to know more intuitively where to go. I played “Of Angels and Angles” today for th first time in a while, and because of the scale practice and the finger picking in House of the Rising Sun, I played it better than I ever could have dreamed of after such a long time without. It was like I had been practicing that particular song, when really it was just that my fingers are FINALLY becoming more educated and less ignorant and clumsy on the frets.

My fingers hurt though. Really hurt. I know I sound like a sissy, and maybe I am a little (then again not so much, I have a 6 inch diameter deep purple bruise on my thigh from my giant beastie of a horse wrestling with me while I was trimming her hooves, and I didn’t complain about that at all, and I didn’t complain when she slammed me accidentally into the fence either so…in fact, I went back and wrestled her again until she behaved herself, so there!.) So I have taken photos of my poor fingers to show you that there is in fact something somewhat worthy to complain about. They are, in a word, yucky. All blistery and calloused and seemingly perma-dented. I am hoping this will go away and I will not be left with horrible fingertips forever (please tell me I will have nice fingers again, even if you have to lie).

 Of Angels and Angles  by the Decemberists

There are angels in your angles
There’s a low moon caught in your tangles
There’s a ticking at the sill
There’s a purr of a pigeon to break the still of day

As on we go drowning
Down we go away
And darling, we go a-drowning
Down we go away
Away

There’s a tough word on your crossword
There’s a bed bug nipping a finger
There’s a swallow, there’s a calm
Here’s a hand to lay on your open palm today

As on we go drowning
Down we go away
And darling, we go a-drowning
Down we go away
Away

There are angels in your angles
There’s a low moon caught in your tangles 

I feel like the title of this entry. Full of just…bluck. That residue that lays thick like sludge on your skin after interacting with a not nice person. The kind who smiles a too bright smile, who makes their voice all insincerely sweet, all the way making sure that even though they seem to be being pleasant, that you leave feeling like poo. My daughter B was with me for this particular meeting, and picked up on it right away, and so keenly. And if an 11 year old child can pick up on the fact that your social interaction was anything but kind, then why bother with the pretense of niceties? Why bother at all? Anyways, I wish this person well, and told them so. Sincerely wished them success and congratulated them on their accomplishments, not because I had to – but because I meant it. The work they had done was impressive. But that being said, I’ll not be going back for more “pleasantries”. And although they were interesting to work with in the past, that is where that will be staying. Adieu, sans regrets. But it did remind me of why I love art – there was so much that was beautiful and inspiring there – but not the art scene. I’m not made for games of one- upmanship, they rub my heart the wrong way, and leave it bruised. I go in open and full of hopeful possibility, and leave feeling closed up tight. Just blargh.

New song this week at guitar lessons, House of the Rising Sun,  and a nifty pentatonic scale to practice. And practice this week I shall, as life got in the way this past week and I did not practice the much needed time and have become clunky and awkward. My teacher showed me all sorts of nifty stuff that can be wrung out of that one scale so I am inspired to learn it, and give it the time it deserves. Listening to someone play though…it just transports me. Sometimes during my lesson I want to close my eyes and just listen – really listen- but then I would miss all those tricks and watching fingers, and how they move, and how to make those sounds myself. And that is what I really want – to make the sounds, to be a part of those sounds. I want that very badly, so instead I stay very focused. There is a blues fest in Ch’town this weekend which I will be looking up and see what I can see. And that will be when I can close my eyes and just listen, not my lessons!

A silly little song for an eleventh day, which means very little if anything at all, but I am reading Alice (again, outloud to my little one) and very much in the mood for riddles and nonsense rhymes- and maybe this will actually become an odd little song. I will go fetch my guitar now and see if it can wash this blucky feeling from my soul, return me to where I was before I walked through the door, return a little song to my heart so that maybe I will sleep, and dream of oceans, green and deep (and pure), and me in their midst, afloat and intensely content.

A Waiting Song

Eleven boats will sail before
grounding on this shore, eleven
days I hold my breath until my
heart rubbed sore, will see you back again.
Will see you back again.

The eleventh day will find me
gazing at the sea, the waters blue
then green, then black by turns, reveal
a truth to me, and I will wait till then.
I will wait till then.

Hmmm….also another clockworks record player pendant sold, and before they are even on sale yet! Hopefully this bodes well of things to come…

Some pics… rustic talisman bracelet:

I was shown these this week, and thought them beautiful. When erotic images left something to the imagination, and held something left of the romantic…also, the girl in the picture’s feet are smudgy with dirt, which is somehow so human and tender to me, and infinitely endearing.

PS: If you didn’t read yesterday’s blog, don’t bother. Most of it is incredibly dull (although the stanza from JW’s poem is lovely), but I am leaving it there as a marker, that some days are dull, some days I completely lack in anything interesting to talk about, or I am prone to talk about interesting things in very uninteresting ways. More likely the latter. I am imperfect. (which is good – my feet are also smudgy at the moment, which means that they have tread places today and felt the earth beneath their soles - all good)

PPS: Tomorrow I will also FINALLY write about my visit to Toronto, and the adventures found there, and the lovely people met, some infinitely more so than others (lovely, that is). But tonight I am too tired, and soured from that earlier encounter, and the evening of tomorrow seems a better time somehow. A new evening not yet traveled and waiting for a tale…

After an excruciatingly long day, a new van was found and purchased. Well sorta new anyways, a 2007, new to us van. Sooo glad that that is done! It is lovely to live in the country and know that you can get back to civilization. It is another feeling altogether to live out in the country faaaaaaarrr away from any stores or people and to know that you have no way at all, aside from saddling up my pony, to get anywhere. And although Miss. Lyrical would gladly treck the 45 km to Ch’town, I am not sure my bum would thank me for that long of a ride, especially in its new improved reduced size.

I am shrinking. But in a good way – though I don’t want to shrink too much more, as I am fond of curves. I have lost a total of 14 lbs these past few months by doing only two things… no bread at breakfast or lunch, and no junk food. Well, actually a little junk food here and there, chocolate must be eaten every now and then, and today I ate a creamsicle, but on the whole I am snacking on things like strawberries and apples, carrots and hummus – stuff like that. I never ignore being hungry, I eat whenever, I just make sure that what I eat is going to be good for my body. So far, so good! I am now only 108 lbs. , and down to a size 1. Which sounds skinny, but as you can see from yesterday’s pics, I am not scrawny at all. I am, however, only 5′ tall (well, ok, that is exaggerating slightly..I am actually 4′ 11 1/2″ but that half sounds so silly, so round up, I say! ) But the best part is not the new small size of jeans I get to buy, but that I feel so good! So much energy, and happier too.

I feel younger, in body at least. 35 I have to say is pretty damn awesome. People always seem to want to stay in their 20’s, but I am so happy in my 30’s – so finally well rooted in my bones, in my soul, I wouldn’t trade it for anything, this knowing of who I am, and knowing what I want.

Someone kind and brilliant recently recommended the works of Ray Johnson to me, and I was instantly enchanted (and thankful!). I won’t get into a whole summary and critique of his work, or all that pretentious stuff where I want to appear so clever. I’m just not into that, and truthfully, I have only scraped the tip of the iceberg in terms of research.  What I will say is that Ray Johnson has intrigued me with his mail art, and collages. One reason being obvious, that I have been working with all these themes of letters, and using the mail to connect people’s lives…and that is what Ray Johnson works with – mail art. These wonderful spontaneous creations – and what was even neater is that he would often ask the recipient – who he may or may not have known – to add to the art and then send it on to somebody else or return it to him. A sort of communal creation. I love this idea. I have yet to see the documentary “How to Draw a Bunny” that details his life and work, still trying to find it actually, but I hope to see it soon. I will write more about him, as I learn more – but check him out.

In musical news, somebody told me today that it is Mr. Jack White’s birthday, so Happy Birthday,Mr. White. If you don’t know who Jack White is, holy smokes,  look him up! But don’t read the articles or gaze upon his photos, just listen to his music because that is what is truly important to know about Mr. White. Not that he might not have other lovely things to know about him, he likely does (having never met him, I wouldn’t venture an opinion on the matter), as we all do – just his music is extraordinary.

Apparently Jack has written a poem in honour of his hometown Detroit. I think that is a lovely gesture! But the sites that I found it on were so negative, and awful. I can’t imagine the need for people to be so publicly spiteful. It’s an ugliness that I do not subscribe to, and one that makes me so glad that my chosen passion can never make me famous in a way that I am open to such public scrutiny. The poem itself seemed heartfelt and sincere to me, with some stand out stanzas that were lovely, like the following:

“I sneak through an iron gate, and fish
rock bass out of the strait,
watching the mail boat with
its tugboat gait,
hauling words I’ll never know.
The water letter carrier,
bringing prose to lonely sailors,
treading the big lakes with their trailers,
floats in blue green chopping waters,
above long-lost sunken failures,
awaiting exhumation iron whalers,
holding gold we’ll never know.”

excerpt from : ‘Courageous Dream’s Concern,’ by Jack White

Well that’s it for tonight, I am tired and weary from work. I will endeavor to post more photos of new works tomorrow. I have a lot of custom orders recently, which is inspiring.

PS. BB is still wearing my pendant! This is silly of me, I know, but I check the previous night’s concert pics every morning before I start work to see if he is, and every time I see it, a smile crosses my face and I just feel happy. I mean silly because people wear my jewelry every day, thousands of them in fact, and I get lovely letters from many of them, thank-you notes every day,  which also makes me very happy. But this is just, I don’t know, much more nifty in some way – and because I admire his work so, that he might also admire my work is just somehow smile worthy over my morning tea, and a nice way to start the day. I’ll take it while it lasts anyways!

Not too much to write tonight. Life is exceedingly busy. Lots of orders and chaos with some supplies mix ups, where I was sent something that was inferior to what I had ordered, but already had about 25 customers waiting for. I somehow magically (read with some diligent sleuthing) found a new better supplier within an hour of the supply crisis, ordered new pieces and had them shipped speedily and averted  a disaster. Hurray! The previous supplier apologised, and will take back the crummy pieces too. Stressful yes, but fixed in no time flat. And now I have another supplier to add to the list -AND even better they will do small run custom castings for me (as well as large runs) so I am set for some future projects that I have.

Also, the van died. It didn’t die a nice slow death where I could go out and buy a new one. It just died, suddenly and altogether. The transmission has cracked open. <sigh> I do not like cars much, and I like car shopping less. And worse is that we now have no car to shop for our new car in. Luckily  friends have come to our rescue with the offer of their van for the day. So hopefully, we will have a new van tomorrow – but a lot of pressure for one day’s shopping. I am not looking forward to it at all.

Some photos to post and then I am off to beds…

It’s all about the skirts and the boots…oh, and the sexy dodge ram pick-up! (nothing is hotter than a 20 year old farm truck. seriously. nothing.) I love this picture.

Laughing on the truck…

I think I am getting better at jewelry photography…I am liking how these are turning out lately – and the fresh flowers from the garden are so lovely. Just a simple silver ring with a tiny little rustic heart.

Home is where the heart is… (or alternately ”just looking for a home” ) copper bird’s nest pendant with blue lace agate eggs and a sterling silver heart bead.