top of the tree

i am slowly learning a little about photography.  the shutter speed, aperture, ISO stuff still confounds me, but i am excited by the way taking photos has changed how i look at things--even what i look at to begin with.  take this tree.  every time i walk past, i am intrigued by the lines of it, its height, the stark, bare branches.  yesterday i tried taking a picture of it.  i only had my zoom lens, so i had to keep backing up, trying to get the whole thing in the picture.  when i put the camera down and considered it again, i thought about how much i especially loved the top of the tree, those branches reaching for the sun like long, arthritic fingers.  and it occurred to me that it would really be alright to take a picture of only the top, the part i liked best.  and i like this shot.  it's simple: the sky so blue, the tree so silver.  i like that it seems eerie, but the crisp, bright background makes it safe.  and i know it isn't the best shot, but this one says something to me.  and that's what i love about photography.

reflections

so i signed up and paid a good amount of money for an on-line course that purports to help you to find your true self, to peel away the layers and find...something... through photography and writing assignments (write your life as a fairy tale...).  not even two weeks in and i'm understanding that, for me,  the money would have been better spent on embroidery thread, beads,  or magazines.  this week's assignment was to take (and share--it's all about the sharing) a picture of yourself as a reflection.  well, i'm done with the class--it's not done, but i am-- and i'm thinking that maybe i can find out more here, by telling and showing and being honest about things.

here is a reflection of me in a beautiful vintage, bakelite mirror that my sweet neighbor and friend, monica, gave me.  because she thought it would be a lovely addition to my jewelry shop.  and because she spends most of her time thinking of other people and what they would like, or how they are feeling.

i am blessed to be surrounded by people who reflect back to me what i need most: love, acceptance, patience, unabashed joy.  thank you, my people.  i will take you over an on-line class any day.

pendants with attitude

i've mentioned that i am loving a long necklace these days, and these big, big beads from sea of glass are fabulous.  i have hung the pendants from 26" diamond-cut ball chain (a little bit of sparkle), so they hit just right on the body and look wonderful with every neckline.

favorites

i think my favorite restaurant of all time is ruby foo's in time square.  i've been there three times and have been thrilled beyond reason with my meal.  the fiery tuna roll is simply exquisite.  and they have ginger mojitos.  GINGER! MOJITOS! and it's not even summertime! this weekend we went to new york city with some friends and saw west side story.  dinner was, of course, at ruby foo's.  a lot of laughs, a lot of great sushi (and a lot of flash in this shot, unfortunately).

and my favorite piece of jewelry right now--both to make and to wear--is one of my new lampwork pendants.  i've used two large, textured lampwork beads on each of the pendants and accented them with bali beads.  i love the way they look on a long chain with a turtleneck.  and i'm anticipating wearing mine often with a t-shirt...soon.

ebullient

he has a heavy step, my brother.  made only louder by cross country ski boots as he tiptoes (lumbers?) up the stairs to wake me for our sunrise skiing.  i jump out of bed and get dressed.  he is already outside and has set up my skiis and poles.  i click in and we race across the field.  the snow is crusty and slick and, as usual, i'm a little wary of falling, but i do my best to keep up with his long, smooth stride.  when we get to an icy, uneven patch, he waits patiently as i moan, "i can't get over this!"  but i can and i do and we sail along,  thrilled by the sun rising warm and brilliant in front of us.  when we stop for a picture, we laugh and marvel at the sparkling snow, the birdsong all around us ("a red bellied woodpecker," he says).  and i am grateful for all these little moments of pure happiness, when everything seems just right.

little projects

 

these little bookmarks are hypnotic to make.  some ribbon, wool felt, a few smooth stitches and you're done.  and then you can make another, different one!  in a different color! with a different design!  i guess there is a lot to be said about making something, from start to finish, in a short time.  and then holding it in your hand and knowing it is done.  so a bookmark is not a novel, or a rocket, or surgery.  but still. 

leslie thompson sutherland 3/20/28-3/2/07

i once read (and i wish i could remember where) that, "your grandfather's coffin is heavier than you think, and your father's coffin is almost too heavy to bear."  i often think of that when i think of my dad and how stunningly difficult it has been to let him go.  three years later, sometimes i am still shocked when i remember that he's gone.

i don't think that i glorify his memory.  he was often moody, obstinate, overly critical.  he could not understand that people thought differently than he did.  sometimes we had to tiptoe around him, desperately trying not to make him mad.   he hated it when his tea wasn't hot, or when you bumped the table, or if you giggled in church. 

i guess, as you get older, you realize all the things people did that were right, in a behind-the-scenes sort of way.  now i can understand all that i never had to suffer because of my dad.  he worked so hard and so long to make sure none of us ever had to worry.  he provided for us and protected us.  he loved us above anything else. he was always there for us, and since we never knew any differently, we didn't know to appreciate it. 

he was a good father.  a good man. and he is missed.