Neighbors at Wonderland

I had some very good neighbors at Crafty Wonderland. Every time I looked up, I had a marvelous view of Paper Sparrow and her beautiful artwork. Andrea Courchene kindly gave me permission to share pictures of her work with you; I'm so glad to do so. Andrea's shadow boxes caught my eye again and again over the course of the day. I don't know what it is with me and gnomes lately, but this piece in particular was like looking into a window to a happier world. I am definitely lusting after this particular shadowbox, even more than the narwhale or the darling polar bear which was very serene.

I probably shouldn't say "lately" about gnomes. Like a lot of people, I had the
Gnomes book as a kid; still do, in fact. It was a warmer, more peaceful world than the one in which I grew up. Especially, I was fascinated by the domestic images, the gnomes' house and daily routine, from the moment the house mouse brought her slippers to the mama gnome to the moment at sunrise when all is safe and quiet and "nothing can possibly happen." Perhaps as a sign of things to come, I was also deeply drawn to the section on home industry: the gnomes at work making candles, ceramics, metalwork, clothmaking...all the works of the hands.

Despite having a kind of rotten childhood, I think the love of craft that I grew up with is an absolute, unadulterated blessing, granted perhaps as a gift that would let me keep a sense of hope and wonder about the wider world. A gift that would ensure I would appreciate artists like Andrea and all the pretty things that come from her hands.

Remembering Other Places

I grew up on the dry side of the Cascades. During the winter it snows from October to sometimes as late as March, with a bit of rain now and then, but nothing like the rains here in the valley. The air is dry. In the summer, it cools down quickly at night. That's one of the few things I miss about living in the high desert: the refreshing coolness of the evening, after a day of sun and heat. The contrasts. When I moved to the valley, a few months after turning eighteen, it took me a long time to realize how different the climate is here - after all, it was still Oregon, wasn't it? I noticed that there were many, many more trees on the hills surrounding Eugene and that it didn't snow nearly so much, but I missed the subtle difference in humidity. We may complain about humidity in the valley, but after visiting Pennsylvania and Japan, nope, it's not really all that humid here. Despite the fact that it rains for about nine months out of the year. Weird, eh?

Every once in a while, something will remind me of those early days in Eugene - one of the best times of my life. I had a flash of it this morning, coming in from taking the recycling out to the curb. Something about the chill and the damp and the slight trace of woodsmoke on the air, and coming into the warm, dimly-lit kitchen, shrugging out of my hoodie and lunging for my cup of tea... I don't know why, but it brought on a sensory memory of a similar morning many years ago. Not one specific morning, but the general sense of the place and time I loved so much. They say you can't go home again and I know that this is true, but sometimes it's possible to duck in, just for a second, and know that it's still there, waiting for you to find a way to bridge that impossible gap and return at last.