I’ve had these photos for a few months, ever since my son Caleb showed them to me on his phone. He does carpentry and construction in the city and this house will be getting renovated sometime soon. And I feel just a bit sad about that…there is something poignantly beautiful about it in its current state. Expressing my wistfulness, he then mentioned lead paint. But I still love these photos, and the way it feels to be in empty, tattered rooms.

It is so easy to picture a shabby, elegant sofa…a coverlet upon it…a fire in the grate…a small table at hand to hold a cup of something warm…and s-p-a-c-e. Of course, there are the bothersome details about how to make that cup of something warm, and where is the notebooks and pencil and pen and books and every other little thing that makes for contentment? The constraints of the natural complexities of life always shadowing our longing for simplicity and spareness.

This is something of what I feel as I walk slowly through January, lovingly scrutinizing my home…my work…my ways…so wishing they could be emptier and more…pure, natural, clear…than they are…than they can be. Such longings, tho’, aren’t very helpful if they become expectations. So I am just paying attention to them and encouraging them to help me let go, and then let go some more.

One thing I won’t be letting go of is this blog. Although I’ve rather neglected it in my rosehip-confusion of the past few years, my delving this month revealed to me that of all the places where I can share, this feels most like home, apart from Wisteria & Sunshine, which is my true home because of its shelter and seclusion. Perhaps I will think of this blog as my town-home, my pied-a-terre. Someplace to go when I am feeling sociable and yearning for conversation and communing around the hearth.

I’ve had some ideas for a few new furnishings I will be creating for these rooms, to make them more inviting and comfortable for us…but didn’t want to wait for them to manifest before saying…

Hello again…and Happy New Year…

May we find so much that is…peaceful & understanding, clear & spacious, warm & deep…in our togetherness in this webby world. xo

on december’s threshold


And I am quietly rejoicing over…the tidy home…the persimmons gathered and now steeping in local vodka for gifting…and the jars of green tomato chutney made and stored…

…lists of modest making and giving ideas growing…as is the unwritten tally of hours spent with stories and looking at the sky and trees shedding their bright garments of leaves…

November’s work of paring down is gifting me with much more peace than I usually have at this time of year. It is something to do with these rosehip-colored-glasses, too. You know all of the ideas, sparkling offers, improving plans of all sorts, shiny baubles, pressures to shop and do? They are easier and easier to let go, click off, unsubscribe from, turn away from and back to what is quieter, truer and more my own…

…what I have, or what I can fashion from what is near. I am intrigued with continuing to share the beauty of life, but also the dirt and ash and imperfections. I see that doing so will be a part of me as an elderwoman. I’ve always worn purple (tho’ muted : ) and dressed the way I like, but becoming more myself in word and deed, in what I create is surely the path I am on.

But I am not there yet. It is time of experimenting and not getting it all right…not yet finding fully my voice or my medium or even the ingredients of my days or the pot of soup for supper. Fortunately, acceptance, a gentle shrugging of the shoulders is coming easily these days, too.

Come the New Year, I believe that writing here will come more easily and often. I know I’ve been saying that for awhile…but I am actually feeling it this time, in a deep place. I’ll be figuring out what belongs in my newsletters, what here, what on Instagram. Those are my places for now. I’ll be beginning my daily Advent posts on my Instagram on December 1st. And will be busy making in my studio, filling orders, getting ready for my first show in eight years!

All that I might want to say or share beyond that, at this time of year, I poured into my Advent offering from last year, A Lantern on the Path. It is available again, if you missed it or would like to receive the lovely, thoughtful emails in your inbox again. I am told (and honored) that they are a favorite, small, slow, nourishing part of Advent for many women.

Wishing you a peaceful, creative December days,