“Your vision will become clear only when you look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”

~ Carl Jung

Monday, March 25, 2013

Is It Spring Yet?

It was a another cold, rainy weekend in the North Georgia Mountains.  I just knew that Spring would be popping, but not so much.  The rain did let up long enough to let me walk in the woods and check on my little spring ephemeral wildflowers.

 Unfortuately some of the little Trilliums are up.  Snow is predicted for tomorrow and Tuesday; so, we will see next weekend if any survive the week.  Thankfully some of them are still tucked in tightly in the ground.

Since Spring was not showing itself outside, I created a colorful bouquet filled page in my art journal.  This will have to hold me for now.

Sunday, March 17, 2013


One of my favorite images is the Live Oak tree.  I grew up in Louisiana and there is nothing more beautiful to me than an ancient oak with gnarled limbs covered in Spanish moss.  In one of my favorite pictures of my children, they are sitting on the limb of a huge Oak tree in Audubon Park in New Orleans.  For me the Live Oak represents strength, permanence, and being rooted, grounded in my heritage. 

The very thing I love about Oak trees is also a problem.  Their strength creates an inflexibility that makes them vulnerable to the winds of change.    And in Louisiana the winds of change often come with hurricane force.

I realize as I grow older that I am like the Oak trees I Iove.  I prefer being solidly rooted in this moment, this current reality.  I don’t like the winds of change.   I like to live my life with a long term plan.  I want to know where I am going and how I am going to get there.  My body reminds me of this preference in the arthritic stiffness I am beginning to experience in my joints. 

And so, currently, I am trying to build flexibility.  I want to be able to bend with each moment.  I need to be less like the Oak I love and more like the willow - rooted yet able to be resilient and supple.  In my physical life I am trying each day to exercise, breathe and stretch,  to build flexibility.  And in my spiritual life, I am stretching myself to accept and rejoice in what is now, to trust that tomorrow will take care of itself if only I will get out of the way - living my life in this moment with trust and faith that there is one greater than I who is watching over me with love.   

Saturday, March 9, 2013


I started a novel this morning as I was taking my morning walk on the treadmill.  I didn't get very far into the book.  It started with a young woman's description of her home.  I was immediately lost in my own thoughts.  First memory triggered was of a speech I had to give in front of my seventh grade English class.

I was an shy, self-conscious 13 year old.   Not helped by the fact that I had curly (sometimes down right frizzy) red hair and freckles.  Creativity was not a part of my fearful nature.  So the 3 minute speech was a dry walk through of our nice, but not very special home.

This morning as I thought of the concept of home, my mind went in another direction completely.  Not that I don't love the physical spaces I call home; I do.  But, ask me to describe my home and I will share treasured sights, sounds, smells, tastes and sensations.  The smell of coffee in the morning; the sound of laughter and, yes, sometimes tears; the comfortable feel of snuggling under a blanket with a three year old; the taste of wonderful food prepared with love, the faces of the ones I love.  Treasures.

Currently I am working with a number of folks who have had to leave their homes.  Some have become too fragile to live independently; others have lost their homes due to the economy.  I wonder what treasures of home they carry in their hearts?

I think that's why I love to put pictures into altered books and scrapbooks.    It reminds me, and comforts me somehow, to realize that the most treasured aspects of home will be with me always.

What treasures of home are you carrying in your heart?


Sunday, March 3, 2013

What are you longing for?

Why is it that February is the shortest month of the year and yet it seems to go on forever.  I feel incredibly impatient the last couple of weeks of February and the first couple of weeks of March.  I am ready for Spring.  In the North Georgia mountains this is the coldest part of our winter.  This weekend it didn't get out of the thirties and for most of today it was in the twenties.

Now I know many of you endure a much more difficult winter.  Some of you even enjoy snowy days.  But this southern girl's soul longs for warm days filled with sunshine and the beautiful blooms of spring - starting Red Bud and Forsythia and soon followed by the Dogwoods.

My bouquets of the moment are limited to daffodils and Lenten roses; and, they are giving me their best in an effort to cheer me along through these last weeks of winter.

 Longing for more, last weekend I got out my flower press full of little pieces of last years garden and made collage bouquets.

This weekend I finished up a canvas to hang with these botanical collages.

Spring is coming.  In the mean time, I guess, patience and finding the beauty in the present moment is sufficient.

What are you longing for?