BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD...

"Life is the art of drawing without the eraser."

~John W. Gardner~

Sometimes an idea seems to come together in a perfect marriage of elements...All neatly tied up in a bow...The idea fanned the flames and sparked the imagination...Of creativity...It bursts into being...A holy moment...Only to be suddenly extinguished...By broken bits...Of empty ideas...Back to the drawing board...That pretty much sums up my day yesterday. Nothing jelled. The idea was there but the pieces were not falling into place. The art kits that I eluded to in my last post may be put on hold until I can get the right feel for them. So, today I will pick up my pencil and try again.

Oh, and in case you are wondering, the photos of the birdcage and candle were a part of the Christmas centerpiece I put together for the dining table. At least this was one project that came together as planned. I hope your plans are all falling into place. It is back to the drawing board for me, thank goodness for erasers!

Have a wonderful day!

Blessings,

Miss Sandy

A Little Bloggy Love...

"There is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved. It is God's finger on man's shoulder."

~Charles Morgan~

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Thank you all for such a sweet response to my last post. Thank you for indulging me in processing my thoughts and feelings and for traveling with me down memory lane. About that book thing, I am thinking and praying about it. Honestly I did think this would be the year I began writing a book, in fact I have been working on gathering ideas and supplies for it for many months now. It was not to be a book about family memories but one about art. Who knows if either one will ever come into being but it is nice to think about anyway.

I was looking at the calendar this morning and thinking how can the new year be only eleven days old and so many strange and wonderful things have happened and been poured into my lap in such a very short time. I can't decide if I look forward with expectation or trepidation. It promises to be interesting if nothing else.(FREE IMAGE)

I was also noticing how fast and furious that Valentine's Day was slipping up. As I was going through some of the papers from my grandmothers I found this...(FREE IMAGE)

A 1969 copy of Good Old Days magazine. I thought the image was sweet and thought you might like to save it to use in your holiday artwork.

Last year about this time I did a few free Vintage Valentine Tutorials featuring the following:

~VICTORIAN BIRD CAGE VALENTINE~
~MIRROR VALENTINE~
~KISSING DANGLE~
~DANISH WOVEN HEART TREAT BASKET~
~MUSSED UP TUSSIE~
~SWEET TREAT CANDY CUP~

All the tutorials have step-by-step photographed instructions as well as free images used in the projects. You can click on the highlighted link above to access them or by clicking on the little birds nest on my sidebar to take you to my free tutorial link page.(FREE IMAGE)

I have two sweet vintage Valentine Art Kits that I will be listing in the shoppe in the next few days if anyone is interested and I have two pieces of artwork almost completed to list also. Can I express my gratitude to all of you who have supported my blog and new shoppe? Thank you so much for the bloggy love and for making dreams a reality.(FREE IMAGE)

I'll sign off today with a few more free images you might wish to use in your Valentine Crafting:

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Blessings,

Miss Sandy

Reflections of the Land of My Heart...

"Where we love is home, Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."

~Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., Homesick in Heaven~

In a series of strange events I have found myself the keeper of my grandmothers cottage in the country. I have resisted the responsibility for as long as I could until last week when Handy Hubby made me pay up on my promise that as soon as the holidays were over and the new year begun I really truly would go up and do the necessary things that were needed to ensure that it did not fall into ruin.I had yet to make a visit back there that it did not overwhelm me with sadness but two years is long enough to leave things unattended and I knew in my heart it was time. The day was beautiful with brilliant blue skies and saffron sunshine warming the wind a bit. I determined I would have a good attitude and prayed to be filled with happy memories in lieu of sadness.As we twisted and turned from one red dirt road to the next and crested the ridge where you can look across the valley and see my grandmothers house, I looked hopefully, fully expecting to see the brilliant flash of her signature red bib style apron as she stood hands held behind her back rocking back and forth from heel to toe listening to the rumble from the upper road knowing we would be arriving in a few minutes as she had so often done. I did see a flash of red but it was from a plump Cardinal who flew alongside us and somehow just seeing the color was comforting.Upon arrival with a deep breath and a big sigh I slid from the truck seat and my feet connected with the land of my heart. I was home. I have never lived there but it is more home than any other place on earth for me. I drank in my fill of sweeping hay fields, distant mountains, and deeply wooded hollows where a singing creek runs.We bypassed the house and garden shed... heading straight for the old iron gate... leading into the back hay field wanting to first see what would be needed to stabilize and repair the old barn. This is the only structure from the original homestead site still standing. It was built by hand by my great grandfather. Timber from the property was cut to form the notched log walls with milled oak siding covering the logs. A side shed or lean to was added at a later date.I walked out to the pond... remembering the summer my cousins and I were so small and the hay so tall we could walk through it without being seen. We proceeded to make tunnels in the hay by smashing it down until our Uncle Charlie caught us. Lets just say our tunnel making days abruptly ended.

I stood on the edge of the pond as the wind whipped my coat open and the ends of my scarf fluttered around me like the wings of a great and colorful bird. I closed my eyes and listened to wind run rustling through the dried grasses, its raspy song swishing sweetly around my feet, a lullaby to my listening ears.I looked at my shadow extended out in front of me laying on top of the grass... and laughed out loud as my coat and scarf spread once more ballooning and billowing out leaving what appeared to be a tiny pin head resting on top. How many times, I though, had I walked these same fields with her shadow cast beside mine? So many sweet memories, as numerous as the strands of golden grass covering just this one filed in which I stood. Each dancing blade representing a happy thought.With one last look at the distant mountains... and still avoiding the house, I skirted the field and suggested we walk over to The Old House site. I knew that time and weather had changed the landscape and that what I saw in my mind and heart would not be there, at least not as they were. As we passed the native stone fences... bordering much of the property, also placed there by great grandfather, I thought of all the hard labor it must have been to haul the stone from the creek bed and fields to dry stack the fence. A necessary labor to keep the cattle in, just as the task before me was a necessary labor to keep the family home preserved. Hard indeed but necessary.

We passed the tractor shed and hay barn... to come to the top of the hill that now looks like a gentle slope rather than the rutted dirt road of my memory. I noted that two of the towering trees that bordered the gate have returned to the earth from which they sprung leaving an odd barren feeling much like the one in the wake of my grandmother returning to her maker.

The giant old Oak that stood sheltering the house had also succumbed to nature but the big Sweet Gum was still offering its stately shelter... As I came to the last curve before entering what would have been the yard I stood seeing not what lay before me but what had been in the past.A big rustic barn stood in the now empty field where dust motes danced, sweet smelling hay was lofted, and the ping of fresh from the cow milk was hitting the insides of a tin bucket. There were pigs in a pen and an old mule braying in the barnyard. Smoke drifted gently from the smoke house where slabs of fresh meat hung. Hens fluttered as a rooster strutted across the bare dirt pen in front of the chicken house.

Turning I did not see the heap of broken rotten wood and tumbled stone but a tiny little house, silvered with age where so many happy memories were made. The giant trees that anchored the corner of the fence around the yard were not toppled... but standing straight and tall guarding the old wooden table that made up my playhouse area.

Granny's old wood burning stove did not lay all akimbo on the lawn but was warming water in the reservoir and baking bread. The old tin cupboards were not empty and sagging but filled with common dishes that are considered collectible today. The beds were not bare rusty springs but bouncy and feathery soft, covered in handmade quilts. The side window in which you would always peer through to see what company was coming down off the hill still held its wavy glass. I did not see a heap of rubble before me... for it was veiled with the sweet stirrings of sights and sounds and seasons of days gone by. All was as it should be with the past and the present intermingling, weaving themselves into the future.

Slowly climbing back up the hill... to face the last task of stepping across the threshold of the home that housed one of the most beloved blessings of my life no longer seemed so daunting. I had faced the changes of the distant past and knew I could do so with the not so distant present with the same vision of not what was before me but of what had been.

With a deep breath and a big sigh I stepped from the red dirt road onto the first of the stepping stones that lead up the front door. My feet once again connected with the land of my heart, my prayer was answered, and I was once again home.

Blessings,
Miss Sandy

A Bit of Winter...

"Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home."

~Edith Sitwell~

It is so good to be back in the land of blog! There is so much to tell about my short one week break but so much I am still processing figuratively and literally that it will have to wait for another day to share. I trust you all had a wonderful Christmas and hope your New Year has started off well.

This morning I woke up to a wee bit of a wintry white world and found that I had company for breakfast...Foraging through the thin veil of snow in search of acorns were nine deer in my back yard. So lovely to watch...I love the cozy tucked in feeling of being blanketed in a world of white. Today I dream of a warm fire, a good book, hot savory soup simmering on the stove, and time to sit and enjoy the sights, sounds, and tastes of such treats. I long to sit in the writing cottage with all the blinds open and watch the birds. But, these are just dreams as this is Monday just like any other Monday with chores galore only this one with more so since I was not home much last week. But, dreams are nice to hold in ones heart when doing daily tasks especially knowing that by days end they are obtainable.

I started a little piece of stitchery last evening and hope it turns out as I desire it to, both cute and useful, we will see... I love having a bit of handwork to do on winter evenings...
I have not had time to get back into the studio since the holidays and my shoppe is all but empty, but, I hope to be back in there by weeks end after I catch up here at home. I hope your Monday is filled with sweet dreams and warm winter wishes that you can hug to your heart as you go about your daily tasks.

What are your warm winter wishes or dreams?

Blessings,
Miss Sandy