Life is not lived in a straight line

"There isn't one right path for you or anyone else.

And there isn't a set of timelines of milestones ...

You're allowed to backtrack.

You're allowed to figure out what inspires you

at different stages of your life.

You're allowed extra time when you need it.

Life is meant to be a series of zigs and zags.

It should look like a mess, but a beautiful mess.

It shows that you have changed and grown.

You've had your ups and downs.

You went down one path, but decided to change course ...

perhaps on many occasions.

That's how life should be."

~ Angel Chernoff ~

First, I'd like to start by saying  Thanks  to each of the kind folks who've written

wondering where I'd wandered off to and why.

A disappearance wasn't planned, but it began and then it felt totally natural

and right to follow and to somehow trust that'd I'd know where I was meant to go

once I got there,

which wasn't to be here it seemed, blogging.

Except now it  is.

Have I confused you completely already?

To backtrack: I resorted to a few fairly strict measures to bring my body back to

some semblance of rightness, and again, I felt inclined to keep my concentration there

and not out here telling everyone about it.

Which is not my way anyway.

So while that was on the slow road to sorting itself out

I unexpectedly found myself on a new threshold

- literally -

when a space I'd put my name on a waiting list for suddenly became available.

This was a dream come true.

A small space for a textile / beading / photography studio ... at last.

Room to stretch my wings, dive into multiple projects at a time, close the door

on big beautiful messes  without having to clean up first  and then 

return the next day to pick right up where I'd left off.

And one of the best bits is that I can bring my dear doggy.

That's her new sleeping spot over there on the left wall

although I think she prefers the little rug by the door actually.

That quote up top from Angel popped into my email this morning and

as I read it, I knew today was the day to say a little something here.

I'll keep it short for the moment

[in truth, I am feeling somewhat rusty at this]

but I have quite a few tales to catch up on,

many pictures to share,

and I'm greatly looking forward to being out here with you all again.

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bead sketches : month four

April's quartet ...

which felt more like a kind of poem evolving than a

weekly exercise in making;

more like a continuous thought that moved quietly from

one color palette to the next - which I will explain further 

at the bottom of this post.

Without further ado ...

Once again I'll note the source, or the word prompts, or where my inspiration came from

below each photograph (with links, if applicable).    

~ New beads! called 'Rose Petals,' which started as an exploration of mandalas but grew into

a green study revolving around this term  ~

~ I wondered how I might create a different twist on an old tradition ... ~

~ Off-loom bead weaving can be an incredibly meditative activity & a welcomed mental state of

mind it was this month, so I included a short journey with the freeform version of

this stitch in order  to practice mixing bead sizes & shapes  ~

~ In March of 2015, I had rather an amusing *failed* attempt at dyeing with madder and only

achieved apricot colors.  Since then the shade has grown on me & I've wanted to use some of

that cloth in a beaded piece.  A water-inscribed twig of driftwood, some pearls

and a few magic stones later ... 

: : : :

Now, about that evolving thought I mentioned earlier ...

I didn't realize until I took this quartet outside to photograph her that there is a certain

calm

running through this batch that I haven't seen in the others.  This month

feels like one cohesive journey tied together by an invisible equilibrium.  Am I 

making sense?  Its as if I'm starting to work out some triteness, some of those cliches that

crop up when doing improvisational bead work.  There was definitely more of an ease this

month, a kind of level of intention that never left me.  It's hard to explain but let me tell you

what I did at the beginning of the month:

I drew a card ...

a prompt card from my dear friend India's "wander cards for wonderers."

The words were

so

utterly

perfect 

I kept them in front of me on the beading table for the entire month.

It is where I held my focus.

And from that came a great, soothing calm

along with an unmistakeable affirmation to keep paying attention

to that which is most important.

: : : :

To view all of the  52 weeks : bead sketches  posts, starting with the most recent,

CLICK HERE

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Five years ago

A trend has been afoot on the internet for quite some time,

something called  Throwback Thursday

and although I've never participated, I have on occasion enjoyed friend's postings.

Which is what happened today.  After having a good giggle over some ancient history 

I saw on Facebook [it does have its upside from time to time] I thought to myself

 what the heck, let's see what was going on say five years ago

in my own neck of the woods.

A hop over to my photo archives from January, 2011 & it appears

not much was happening different from now ...

I was out photographing a lot of frost,

was taking lots of chilly, storm-ridden walks with this one 

[that year we could have ice skated on our pond!]

and I was enjoying some extremely pleasant hours weaving cloth scraps

which coincidentally, I've returned to a bit of late because of my '52 week project' ... 

but I'll tell you more about that in my next post

 where I'll share my first 3-inch explorations for the month of January.

Stay tuned, I'm very excited about it!

Nope, aside from the aforementioned activities which pretty much echo present day,

the image that has led me to write my first  Throwback Thursday  post

is

the

following...

Our dear Quinn.

Five years ago, right after Christmas, my fella and I drove to Oregon

to pick up this special being.  Black dogs are notoriously difficult to adopt out

and this little girl was no exception.  Malnourished, unsocialized, scared of

everything & everyone, we spent that first January gently introducing her to our world

and showing her as best we could that life had a better side

than living in a chainlink enclosure

by yourself.

Quinn is so skinny in this picture!  Weighing in at 47 pounds she was only

five pounds heavier than my small collie back then.  But no longer - now she is 65 pounds 

and a powerhouse of solid swimming, ball chasing, long distance hiking muscle. 

Best of all, she's found her person to be devoted to

and he has the dog he's always wanted ...

 intelligent, curious, playful, steadfastly faithful & incredibly loyal.

It was a long road - is STILL a long road - training & helping this girl to be comfortable

 in a world she previously mistrusted.  None of that was her fault and we've had many a

discussion about what kind of dog she would have become if she'd had a better

start in life.

It is rarely ever too late to help a dog.

Please consider adoption for your next choice of fur friend.

You may actually inherit an angel in disguise. 

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After the storm

We recently had a whopper of a gale.  A long night,
then an even longer dark day of sideways rain and rattle-the-rafters wind.

The lull that followed meant only one thing - time for beachcombing - so four-paws and I

headed out to see what we could find.  I wasn't entirely sure there'd even be a shore left.

Predictions had been ominous but living as we do on a tiny rock out in the Pacific Ocean

 we know variables can be extreme island to island.  I needed to see firsthand how our
favorite spot had fared.

Thankfully, it was not so bad really.

Bull kelp was in abundance, having woven itself down the beach in dramatic ropes.  A few

boulders that support the edge of the two lane road had been displaced and
one or two megalithic tree stumps (from Canada perhaps?) had been dredged up & tossed ashore
like toothpicks.

The donations from the sea were plentiful.

I left this red one in place.  Figured a heart rock was better doing its good business under

a big sky, near a Big Puddle, than home with me in my pocket or on my windowsill.

This particular beach is in somewhat protected waters, with San Juan Island directly to 

the east & San Juan Channel in between, so it isn't like beaches that 

face the open ocean where lots of human trash prevails

(I'll pay you five dollars if you can even find a piece of sea glass on this stretch),

but it does hold a motherlode of natural detritus ...

driftwood

stones

shells

some feathers

and lots of seaweed ... especially during storm season.

And there was our "garbage" to collect and treasure.  Hadn't seen this around

for a whole year - a reddish seaweed that makes lovely rose-colored marks when wrapped in 

cloth (especially silk) if one is game to judiciously watch temperatures in the dyepot.

Worth the whole walk, was that.

:::

Have you ever heard of the British artist, Jo Atherton?

She weaves tapestries with the flotsam from her beaches & other coasts of the world

and tells some very interesting stories ...

Have a look.

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What do you do for love?

nourish, tend & care

keep watch & protect

bless the ground whereon I walk

make & give away what is in my heart

play, with wild abandon & great joy

nurture optimism with an eye on many fine tomorrows

This is what I do.

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Moon watching

What a moon we've had developing the past few days ...

clear, star-filled nights make for contemplative viewing;

being out late with the dogs, a delight for stargazers like me.

A few days back, while it was waxing,

I posted this image on Instagram

"what night feels like towards the end of winter when spring is on the cusp

but wearing her icy mantle ..."

because although nights still call for two layers of warmth,

daytimes are for shirtsleeves and wide-brimmed hats already.

The full moon last night was glorious and I was extremely grateful for a kind winter

with very few dark days ... both in the weather, and in my mind.

I'd like to share today's "mindfulness poetry" originally posted on A Year of Being Here,

for the record - my record.  My winter of eleven winters here ... the first without seasonal angst.

Because it just might have something to do with acceptance.

: : :

Dear Ezra

I have to confess:

there are abstractions

I no longer go in fear of.

Take loneliness.

I've started calling it solitude.

It feels so new and improved now,

I can honestly say it soaks up time

better than a sponge soaks up water.

The other day I actually washed this poem with it.

Ez, let me tell you,

aging is a Laundromat,

and eventually you find yourself

watching what you spurned

and dreaded for years

spread out in widening gyres,

like sheets fluffed in the dryer.

Life is quite a bit cozier

when you let all the bugaboos-

you know- say, sadness and fear

crawl into bed with you.

Pace them with your breathing

and they fall asleep

fast as a couple of kids.

The other night we huddled together

staring at the moon

as it slid past my window:

big-bellied sail on a wet black sea.

~ by Eileen Moeller. Text as published in Poems of Awakening: An International Anthology of Spiritual Poetry.

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Unimpeded

Thought it might be fitting to wind down this year of posts

with some thought-provoking verse from Maya Stein.  I've borrowed one of her words

for the title of this one.   "a dream" appeared in this morning's mail with perfect timing,

as her poetry so often does, and not only includes a reference to potholes, but arrived

exactly when I am ripe for the reading.

Unimpeded

yes, this will be a fine word to hold onto for the new year ... a heady reminder

that most blockades I feel are actually the ones I've put up myself.

First though, I owe you kind folks a debt of gratitude for your extremely helpful comments

on my last post about a Sweetpea Path makeover.  You've given me much to consider

and I'm so glad I asked!  It's been very  very  enlightening

and heartwarming

to receive your feedback, both on the blog and via private emails.

Thank you so much for taking the time to do that.

My 'idea hat' is now filled to the brim.

~ Mt. Baker view, while riding the ferry across the Salish sea ~

... so without further ado

a dream

For a moment, it all disappeared: the potholes tripping up your stride,

the broken love story, the difficult decision, the rigor of worry about things

you know you can't possibly fix.  Suddenly, some vacuum sucked it all inside

and you leaned back, unimpeded, innocent, casual with your gaze, the stings

of your life returned to their nascent nettles.  For a moment, you were able

to neutralize your place in the world, find fresh buoyancy in the waves.

For a moment, you saw, even, the geometry of loss, each cradle

that holds our grief so steady, each heartbeat threading through the maze.

But this was no sunny island reverie, some implausible and pointless dream.

It was you, remembering where you've always been.

~ Maya Stein

: : :

from "10-Line Tuesday" poetry series

... a backlog can be viewed   here

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Changes gonna come

My little blog is in need of some new finery.

~ deer trail across the front field ~

Just like the deer trail above,

Sweetpea Path has barely wavered  in style, direction or sideline accoutrements

since hopping onto the internet five years ago.

Oh my, has it really been  that  long?

Why, some blog authors I know have changed their look half a dozen times

within that span.

Our time has come.

And I'm so excited !

~ picnic table, weathering ~

Dunno exactly when, sometime early in the new year I expect,

I'll be shaking it up around here.  Gonna stay with Blogger [am comfy here]

but I've been feeling the need for pages/tabs up top [more elbow room to add information],

a little less clutter in the sidebar [maybe no sidebar at all],

and well, just the opportunity to enjoy more template options such as fonts & picture placement;

perhaps even a header with photos in it - imagine that.

My current template is so old, no one joining Blogger in the last few years has had

the option of using it.  It's terribly limiting and I do believe

I've plum outgrown it.

So this is to let you know there may be a bit of chaos

while I sort out my new  *look* 

and

I was wondering, ahem, if I could ask you something ...

~ sun flares at winter solstice ~

You see, nowadays there are SO MANY options for page design/layout

I'm spoiled for choice.  And I'm a bit confused if truth be told.

A few details I'm certain about and the rest are up in the air.

What better way to get a temperature reading than to ask those of you who stop by,

what do you most like to see on someone's blog?

What welcomes you?  What makes you want to come back?

If you can spare a few moments, would you kindly leave a comment

[or write a quick note via the email link on the right if you prefer]

and let me know what blog attributes you like best ...

Meaning, as a visitor & reader, when you arrive on someones blog to peruse a post

what is it you really like to see there and what are the blog functions which make that easy?

Although this blog has served as my online journal - tailored & tuned in a personal way - 

there's no denying how very important you folks are.

I thank you in advance for leaving your thoughts.

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National Black Dog Day

October 1st is  National Black Dog Day.

It's a special day devoted to highlighting the plight

of black dogs in shelters around the country.

Around our place, EVERY day is black dog day

but to put a special note on it since

black dogs are notoriously difficult to re-home,

a warm hearted backward glance might be in order ...
an ode to some lovely mugs & the humans they owned.

~ archive photo, photographer unknown ~

~ Mary Miles Minter, 1917 ~

~ from George Eastman House ~

~ Queen Victoria, by W. and D. Downey, Getty Images ~

~ cabinet card from Germany, c. 1915 ~

~ Jet ~

[ 7/21/42 - 10/18/49 ]

Jet was an Alsatian who assisted in the rescue of 150 people

trapped under blitzed buildings.  Born in Liverpool, he served with the

Civil Defence Services of London and was awarded the Dickin Medal

and the RSPCA's Medallion of Valor for his rescue efforts.

He trained at the War Dogs School in Gloucester at 9 months in anti-sabotage

work and relocated to London.  Cpl. Wardle and Jet were the first handler and dog

to be used in an official capacity in Civil Defence rescue duties.

~ archive photo, Harris-Ewing ~

~ vintage photo, photographer unknown ~

~ Duchess of Fife with daughters, c. 1908 ~

~ Edwardian lady with her dog, French postcard ~

~ girl & her dog, Stockholm, Sweden, by Wilhelm Lundberg, c. 1865 ~

~ Helen Keller, archive photo ~

Whenever it is possible, my dog accompanies me on a walk or ride or sail.

I have had many dog friends - huge mastiffs, soft-eyed spaniels, 

wood-wise setters, and honest, homely bull terriers.

At present the lord of my affections is one of these bull terriers.  He has

a long pedigree, a crooked tail and the drollest "phiz" in dogdom.

My dog friends seem to understand my limitations, and always

keep close beside me when I am alone.  I love their affectionate ways

and the eloquent wag of their tails.

~ Helen Keller

~ Malvina Longfellow by Bassano, 1918

:::

~ our black dog, Quinn ~

... grateful you came home with us, girlie.

You may be a handful 

and a training challenge, to say the least,

but you're all heart and smart as a whip.

It's only your fears holding you back ...

same as with the rest of us.

:::

Can't adopt a black dog today?

That's ok ... it can be a big decision.

Here's something easy:

Click here for an easy and free way to help care for those in need at The Animal Rescue Site!

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Steady on

My last night in Scotland, a very diligent effort was made

to wash every trace of mud from my boots.

Never have they been so clean

as when I had to travel with them!

But it was the right thing to do and although some twinges of nostalgia

crept in for good times mucking about in that great River Tay,

better the remnants gurgle down the guest house drain

then land me in trouble with inspectors on the Other Side.

Since returning home, my head's been down so to speak.  Not too much blogging

yet slow & steady work has been afoot nonetheless.

A determination came home with me; a drive to better understand a few things,

conduct a few experiments, and to continue finishing the great pile of unfinished. 

A good deal of time has been spent

encouraging color from plants

exploring through failures and leaps of faith

without really knowing where all of this is going.

I'm putting trust in the process, following my intuition,

doing the work without knowing the outcome

because the work will take me where I need to go.

I don't need to know right now where that is.

~ inside the glasshouse, Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh, Scotland ~ 

Back in August, I began to post [almost] daily to my Instagram gallery ...

What started out as inspiration from Susannah Conway's daily prompts for August Break

has become a regular editing practice that's proven so valuable, I continue still.

In the beginning it was a way to post a somewhat unruly backlog from the Scottish adventures

but it's become so much more. My addiction to photo apps has found a comfortable outlet

where play, practice - and sometimes downright outrageousness - can be shared

with fellow picture makers.  I learn so much from them.

The creativity within the Instagram community as a whole

is nothing short of astounding.

Remember these?

Slow & steady work is happening within the pantry shelf jars, lots of changes over time.

Seven months and still counting ...

I'm oddly amused to not be feeling the least bit impatient

to view the results.  An indicator, surely,

of a certain kind of faith.

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Out to the edge

When I was a little girl,

I had a big crazy dream

about wanting to become the first woman astronaut.

Visions of walking around the outside of a space capsule while

looking back from the edge of the universe towards earth,

were completely captivating

and compelled me to study the sciences

while striving to be the best student possible.

NASA was demanding.  This I knew.

So it was a good thing I found out early

I was too short for space exploration

[then, the minimum height for pilots was 5' 4"]

because I never excelled in the sciences

and was fairly hopeless in math,

two very important subjects for discovering new worlds

in the cosmos.

~ evening view from Iceberg Point, on the far southwest tip of Lopez Island ~

What has never left me after all these years

is my unwavering attraction to the edges of places.

Funny to think of it this way but

when I look back on where I've travelled

and where I've chosen to live,

I see the pattern ...

still that wannabe astronaut, albeit in disguise.

Instead of space boots

it's likely a pair of Keens [or Blunnies when it's cold] these days.

And as often as possible

there's a certain four-pawed companion in tow,

a bit frowned on within intergalactic travel.

~ view from Spencer Spit, eastern side of Lopez Island, Swift's Bay on one side, Lopez Sound on the other ~

No, there may not have been rocket transport to the moon in my history

nor a glimpse of Mars from a capsule window,

but a simple outboard motor can surely be a 

perfect enough shuttle on a fine summer day when

there's an outer island to explore ....

~ passing through the Strait of Juan de Fuca, outer San Juan Islands ~

Not much traffic in the low-season

aside from the odd floating log

or a few seals just offshore.

~ the signal building, Turn Point Light Station, Stuart Island, San Juan Islands ~

My friend Pat & her husband do some caretaking out at Turn Point Light Station

although often, Pat heads over on her own.  In need of an extra pair 

of helping hands for this trip, Pat offered a ride.

Located way out on Stuart Island ... the farthest northwest point in the San Juan Islands ...

it's still only a 40 minute journey from the marina on Fisherman Bay.

The views are breathtaking.

Still, I can barely imagine living life out there - full time - as the keepers of old used to do.

While reading their stories, carefully preserved & documented in the small museum,

I couldn't help but think how  THIS  would be truly

living on the edge.

Many of the keepers didn't last too long in such a remote spot

except for this one ...

~ copy of photo from Turn Point Light Station Museum ~

Louis A. Borchers, keeper & amateur photographer.

I could relate to his propensity for picture-taking

~ copy of photo from Turn Point Light Station Museum ~

and probably would have spent my own time doing

much of the same.

Although, look at that beast of a tripod !

Good, sturdy legs for Borcher's Putnam Marvel,

a beautiful wood 5 x 8 view camera that would have cost

a pretty penny back in the day.

~ cliff at Lover's Leap [left], southwesterly view from Stuart Island ~

~ view to Vancouver Island, Canada from Stuart Island, USA ~

We ate our lunch on the bluff in front of the signal building

where the rushing confluence of tides was pleasant music

on such a peaceful, windless afternoon.

Sitting there in awe of this beautiful world,

right there on the boundary line between the States

and our western neighbor, B.C., Canada,

I pulled out my little pocket camera [phone]

while expressing thanks to all the explorers that came before.

Fortunately, there's no height restriction for this kind of adventuring

and I'm sure some were short just like me.

It was a fine day out.

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