Lost in a haze of smoke and light...

"What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset" -Crowfoot



The view from my back yard, at sunset. The column of smoke is from the power plant in the city.

I have a sharper picture of it, but I love the hazy look of the first picture.

My Favorite Things Part III

Of all my worldly goods, books are probably what I love the most. In books there can be found so many things. Reading a book isn't just about gaining knowledge. It's the pleasure of it, the feel of the cover between your hands, the weight of it, the turning of each page, the smell of the ink and paper. Books contain entire worlds, anything you could possibly imagine, things fantastic and mysterious and heartbreaking.

Growing up homeschooled was difficult at times. I did get lonely on occasion. I had friends, but my world was something entirely different from theirs. Their lives revolved largely around what had happened at school that day. When you're the only person in your school, there is no drama, or gossip, or wondering what to wear. The bullies, the popular kids, the geeks, the outcasts..none of those people existed for me. I was all of those things, and none of them.

I frequently lost myself in my own imagination. Books were really not much different than that. It was just taking a break from my own head and losing myself in someone else's for a while. There was no loneliness in the turning of pages, in the stories playing out in each chapter. There was no one to judge me or think me strange, which is what often happened when I met other people my age. It was like someone had branded me with a big blazing mark that said "DIFFERENT", and of course when you're a child, and then a teenager, being different is usually considered to be a bad thing. I've never regretted my education, and I don't wish that I'd been allowed to attend public school. I just wish others had been more accepting of it.

So I read. I devoured books. I spent most of my allowance on new ones, and I always wanted more. Fantasy, history, true crime, mythology, fiction...I tried to fill myself to the brim with stories and facts, but my desire to read was bottomless. It's something I have never grown out of. I love books, and bookstores, and libraries. I hoard my books like a dragon guarding treasure, gloating over each new one I acquire. No matter how many I have, I will never have enough.

I dream of one day having a house with a proper library in it. I want every wall to have floor-to-ceiling bookcases loaded with books. My fiance is a smart man. For Valentine's Day, he didn't get me chocolate, or jewelry, or flowers. He bought me books, because he knows that's the way to my heart.

My Favorite Things, Part II

To continue my post series about some of my favorite things, my next subject is: machinery!

I find old, broken-down, rusted machinery to be fascinating. All of those gears and bolts and knobs have always been so interesting to look at. I used to use pieces of old copper pipes in some of my artwork, and the more grungy they were, the better.

Living out in a rural area provides me with a lot of old broken-down farm equipment to choose from. People out here will frequently leave things to rust into nothingness in their fields, which itself is rather shameful for the environment, but provides me with lots of things to poke through.

In Pieces

The owner of the auto shop my car is currently housed in called me this afternoon. He said it was awfully close, but the insurance company opted to fix my car rather than total it. Since the frame and engine were unharmed, and the car is still fairly new, it was considered to be worth fixing.

I was so relieved that my legs started shaking. I've always been an emotional person. I get very invested in things, and my car represented more than just a means of getting from point A to B. I still remember with some measure of regret important things I've lost over the years, like my favorite teddy bear. It wasn't the bear itself, but the comfort it represented that I missed. I place more meaning than I should, perhaps, in material objects. Rather than viewing them as replaceable, I instead view them with sentimental value attached. A replacement is not quite the same.

So in about two weeks, I'll have my car back. Right now it's sitting in pieces in the auto shop, stripped of its panels and bumper, waiting to be put back together. I'll be happy to go get it from the shop and bring it home.

A few of my favorite things

In an effort to cheer myself up while waiting for news about my car, I thought I'd do a series of posts about things I love.

I love fashion. Accessories in particular. Scarves, pocketbooks, jewelry, belts..I am never without some sort of accessory when I'm out and about.

In the realm of jewelry, I have somewhat eclectic taste. I like classic jewelry, like strings of pearls and simple yet elegant rings, but I also like unique pieces that are bold and eye-catching. Keys are a particular favorite of mine. I recently bought two rather ornate sterling key pendants that have low grade rubies set in them. There's something very romantic about them, I think. They look like they ought to unlock something wonderful.



I've had this big silver ring forever. I bought it a few years ago, but I've only worn it a few times. I recently dug it out of my jewelry box and started wearing it more. The only problem is that I keep whacking it against everything. That's the reason why my engagement ring is actually a very small, delicate piece. I was afraid that if I wore a large stone, or one that stuck out, I'd damage the ring. The big chunky silver one is pretty much impossible to hurt, but I can't imagine wearing it every day.



The turquoise band on my ring finger is one that my mother bought for herself, but decided was too bulky to wear, so she gave it to me. It's positively dainty next to the other behemoth.

Now we move on to purses. I love purses. My love affair with purses and shoes didn't really start until I was in my mid twenties. Now I am always hunting for the next Perfect Purse, and that extends to pocketbooks and change purses, too. I found this little gem for $12 on the clearance table at Macy's. I have a particular weakness for Fossil bags, and I could not resist the berry color of the leather, nor the little bronze bird stitched onto it. It's just big enough to fit my mirror and a few tubes of lip balm.

Second Chances

Thursday morning I got up to the sound of my alarm clock and went through my morning routine. Showered, got dressed, put on my makeup, and packed my lunch. I kissed my sleeping fiance goodbye, and headed off to work.

I made it exactly five miles. The roads where I live twist and turn, roll up and down hills, snaking away towards the city where everything finally becomes flat and straight. Going down and around a steep curve, the steering on my car felt oddly loose. One second later, the car was spinning out of control, and finally stopped when it hit a guardrail.

I'd hit a rather large patch of black ice. The entire road was slick with it, so once my car started sliding, there never was a time where it was off the ice. Unfortunately the fact that it was on a downhill curve meant that momentum took over and the car got out of control so badly and so fast that I barely had time to think before it was over.

I hit the emergency button on my OnStar and summoned police. An off-duty officer also happened to be passing by, and he sat there with me and reassured me. While we were sitting there, watching the morning turn from black to grey, another car came hurtling down the curve and spun into the side of the hill. They were able to drive away, at least.

It was over very quickly, really. Police came and went, the wrecker came for my car, and it was extracted from the guardrail and loaded up. I sat in my fiance's car and watched as the police swept away the pieces of my headlights from the road. 45 minutes was all that the entire process took, from the wreck to finding myself at home, stripping off my work clothes, rubbing away my makeup. My car sat in the driveway, its front end crumpled, headlights nothing but wires and smashed bulbs.

I saved for three years to buy that car. The money I made from my first major jewelry sale was the money I opened the savings account with. I researched cars online and drove my old car until it was on the verge of falling apart. I paid over half the cost of my new car in cash, and it felt so good to make that first major purchase in my life. I'd saved all the money myself, not taking help from my parents. I only had to take out a small loan to finance the rest. It would have been paid off this year.

I'm hoping they can fix it, that they don't have to total it. I don't want another new car right now. I want MY car back. The car I saved for and researched and finally drove off the lot in, thrilled at having something that didn't stall or leak rainwater from the doors, something I could call reliable, that started in the cold weather and didn't overheat when it was hot outside.

Of course insurance ruled the accident to be my fault. My deductible is high, but not unmanageable. I'd pay it to have that car back. I'm just waiting to hear if I do get to have it back, or if they'll decide it's not worth fixing. Three years of saving, two years of driving, one second to lose it. I wish I had a second chance with that morning. I'd have taken another road.

Magic Keys

When I was a little girl, I was fascinated by the idea of magic and mystery. What kid isn't, really? There's so much magic in childhood. We believe in more. Nothing is impossible. We believe that we can be anything when we grow up, that fairies might really exist, that one day the path we take every single day through the woods will lead us to a fairyland if we only find the right slant of light to step sideways through.

I spent hours playing in the woods when I was growing up, and I spent hours reading books. I loved the thought of other realms awaiting discovery, and wished I could find them.

Alas, eventually I grew up, and became involved in all of the adult things like bills and jobs and having to feed and clothe myself and worrying about the price of gas or if I'd forgotten to unplug the iron. But I still try to hold onto magic wherever I can. I still love being in the woods, and I still love to read, and all the magic I never did find as a child creeps its way into my jewelry from time to time.

I've been working on a series of key pendants, because keys are something else I've always loved. I collect sterling silver key pendants, and I dream of going round to antique malls and buying old skeleton keys. Keys just have so much potential. There's a certain mystery to a key, especially if it's an old one. Who used it? What did it unlock, or what did it keep contained?

The keys I've been making are meant to be magic keys, to unlock those mysterious, wonderful worlds I never quite managed to find in all my years of prowling the woods. Some part of me is convinced that somewhere out there, they do exist.



The Key to the Heavens is one of the more abstract keys, meant to fool the casual eye into thinking it merely a pretty design. Because one can't have just anyone unlocking its realm, after all...