Woman at work

Later in the week I'll be posting a couple of new felt pieces, some journal pages about volunteering and a tour of a recent trip I took to Wing Luke Museum in Seattle's International District. So check back for some ideas and a little inspiration.

Come on in

I've got some new work posted under 'What I'm up to now'. Just click on 'Felt' to check it out.

The Japanese Garden

Yesterday I spent a wonderful day at the Japanese Garden in Seattle's arboretum with my long-time friend Barb Fawthrop Matteson. We grew up across the street from each other on Capitol Hill, and our mothers were best friends.

The cold and mist didn't dampen the beauty of the garden, and I was delighted to get a chance to see the world through Barb's eyes for just a while. She's a gifted artist who's beautiful glasswork is truly unique. Barb told me about the next challenge that she's taking on, and it will be interesting to follow along with her process knowing what her starting point was. 

 2009 is the 50th anniversary of the opening of the garden, younger than both Barb and myself. It's always immaculate, the sandy paths raked and lawns precisely trimmed. On May 4 there will be a celebration for the opening of the Gate House Village. Anyone who's a fan of Japanese architecture will appreciate the new entry to the garden. The celebration begins at 10 a.m. with a Shinto blessing, ribbon cutting and Taiko performance, with lots of activities throughout the day until closing at 8 p.m.

 I love this photo of the orange-gold carp about to snack on the rock covered with algae. And two carps were in the middle of the pond dancing the dance, so to speak. 

Loamy, lusty spring--it affects all living things.

A real beauty

I can't believe it's been two months since I've last posted an entry, but waking up to blue sky and sunshine is such a gift. It lifts my spirits. What has seemed hopeless suddenly becomes full of hope. The wasteful guilt, disconnection and negativity that have darkened my life over the last few months melt away. Of course the chronic depression that's been part of me for so many years adds to the darkness, but sometimes I use it as an excuse for not connecting, for not moving forward. For playing it safe.  

I've tried many times to expand my life, but then fall back onto that safe path. I've learned, though, that each experiment in living, each journey away from darkness, teaches me something. I've learned over the last few months that I'm not alone, that I have friends who check in with me to see how I'm doing, even if I still have trouble reaching out. Friends that care, and whom I care for and enjoy hearing from and being with. I have a stronger support system, for which I'm so very grateful.

I spent a little time sitting in the sun at University Village today, sipping iced green tea and reading. Didn't that feel good? I watched some little kids splashing barefoot in one of the fountains, mothers smiling and not scolding their little ones for getting their clothes wet. Everyone deserves a break on a day like this. A little girl in shorts, her small legs pumping and her body pitching forward at a precarious angle, tried to outrun her mom and big sister. Little magical moments on a beautiful day.

Postscript: I just got a call from the food bank that I wanted to volunteer for, and I begin Friday. It makes me happy to be able to do something for others.

And I'll be posting a piece of artwork I recently finished later. Look for it under Current Work and Felt.

Aunt Sally

We lost our dear Aunt Sally yesterday. She was only in her late 60s, but her health hadn't been very good the last few years. Her heart simply gave out.

Sally was the younger sister of my Dad. They came from a large Catholic family of 13 kids, although two died in infancy. We never actually called any of my Dad's sisters "aunt"--they were too young for such formality. Sally was one of a kind. Whenever there was a family get-together, we always asked if she would be there. She was so funny, the life of the party with stories to tell. She lost her own mother at a young age, while still in grade school. I never met my grandmother, who died of heart failure the year before I was born. But I've heard that Sally was very much like Grandma Sullivan. 

Sally did not have an easy life, but her remarkable spirit never faltered. She was a nurse whose patients loved her. Knowing Sally, she was an advocate for them, was loving and caring and lifted their spirits with her humor. She and her husband Pete separated years ago, but neither remarried and they were still very close. They had four children, one who died very soon after birth, and several grandchildren, all of whom Sally loved dearly. Her birthday was Feb. 4, and Pete said that they had a wonderful party for her. She insisted that she had a little time with each grandchild separately. Isn't that something? What a wonderful memory it will be for them to nurture in the years to come. 

And speaking of memories. My brother Mitch and she loved to give each other a hard time about "the egg incident." Aunt Sal baby-sat for us a lot when we were young. When Mitch was about 4, he was acting up quite a bit, as he often did at that age. Sally had had it with him, and told him that if he didn't behave she was going to get a raw egg and crack it over his head. Well, he tested her, which wasn't a good idea at all. She started chasing him all over the house, and finally caught up to him. Crack. Egg white and yolk drizzled all over his sweet head. He was not happy, but what a story it made. For the rest of her life, they always gave each other the business about it. Always in fun, always with love. 

My sister Cheryl is 60 (sorry girl) and closer in age to her aunts. Cheryl loved Sally so much. I think they both covered for each other in their times of misadventure. 

For me, the last time I saw Sally was about 10 months ago at the baby shower for my cousin's child. I had just gotten laid off from my job at The Seattle Times and was really sad and emotional, although I was trying to hide it. When everyone else got up to get lunch at the buffet, Sally sat with me separately and talked about her own life. As I have written, it wasn't easy. She had begun to lose faith, but found her way back to it. And despite all of her own pain and suffering, she told me that she really believed that everything happened for a reason. 

So now Sally, I have to believe that this early passing is for a reason. And for exactly this reason, I won't say good bye. I do believe you are still with us, and will help each and every one of us. Thank you so much for all you have given. I'll love you forever.