Category: MerryThoughts

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Mountains! Mountains!

I just returned from a week at Rocky Mountain National Park with eight women friends. Again, I feel transformed.

I have always said I’m an ocean person. Well, I am. I love the ocean. Most of these gals would love to live in the mountains. That has never been me. Driving across Colorado to see family in California, I’ve of course admired the beauty of the Rockies. I’ve oohed and ahhed at the magnificence each time I drove through, and I certainly felt lucky to be where I was. But my spirit has never been particularly drawn to the mountains.

Well, I suppose things can change, even within a 72-year-old heart. I suppose one can have more than one love, more than one heart’s destination.

Now I so wish I’d spent more time at RMNP all these years that I’ve lived in Missouri. I am only a long day’s drive from there. I wish I’d taken my sons there when they were young, maybe even every summer. Why not? We could so easily have done that. We went to the Grand Canyon, Zion, Yosemite, Bandolier, all camping or backpacking trips–but never to RMNP, which is so much closer. Why? I can’t know. I cannot fathom a reason–but that is one of those things you just have to let go.

Everyone knows the Rockies are absolutely breathtaking! I’ve always loved the constant motion of the ocean, but in the mountains you have the constantly moving clouds, settling comfortably in a valley, sitting high enough above to cast their unique shadows across the earth, or completely obscuring the whole mountain range in a second or two–and then sailing away, rising, or disappearing. Poof! There’s that view again. I could sit and watch that dance, one that is not unlike that of the sea and the shore, for hours.

Look where I was!

I was able to hike, and even to hike for six hours one day, despite my worries about the altitude and breathing. We were able to hike up, on foot, to the beautiful mountain lakes and to marvel at the amazing vistas spread before us. I am so grateful for that, for my friends, for my body, for the mountains which do so change one’s perspective. And I myself am changed. I am so very grateful for all of this! And I will go back. I hope to go back again and again.

So we walked and hiked a lot in the thin air, and we breathed, and we paused often, and there were magnificent views as well as pretty little wildflowers. And there was picture taking and eating and stargazing and searching for bull moose and bear and bighorn sheep, and listening for the bull elks’ mating call.

So I’ve come away from a trip yet again with many thoughts, reflections, and realizations. Though it breaks my heart a little every time I say goodbye to my dogs, travel is good for the heart, mind, and soul. And I am immensely grateful for all that I have.

“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home.”― John Muir

“I like the mountains because they make me feel small,’ Jeff says. ‘They help me sort out what’s important in life.” ― Mark Obmascik, Halfway to Heaven

“She was nothing before that view, these mountains. As insignificant to any of it as one of the stones that still rattled in her boot. It was a blessed relief, to be nothing and no one.” ― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Memory

I just read the beautifully written book, Someone, by Alice McDermott. As it turns out, I just read it for the second time, although I didn’t realize it until I’d gotten quite far into it.

I loved how it was described on the jacket. A girl growing up Catholic in Brooklyn in the ’40s. Right up my alley. I particularly like books that are set in a different time period from my own. And this one is set in Brooklyn. Perfect!

Pencil factory in Brooklyn

In the story, the neighborhood boys play stickball in the street, a blind veteran of WWI sitting in a chair in front of his stoop. For some reason, the boys turn to this man, Billy Corrigan, to call questionable hits out or in. His calls are gospel, unquestioned. This, of course, jogged my memory. You can read and read but you won’t find a blind stickball referee in more than one book.

As I read on, I felt again like I was in new territory. Perhaps I didn’t get much beyond the stickball scene? Perhaps a book I’d had on hold at the library came available and I’d abandoned Someone for it? Plausible enough. I read on. Seemingly it was all new to me–until oh, three fourths of the way into the book, there’s another strikingly familiar incident concerning the protagonist’s cataract surgery (no spoilers here, I hope). Okay, clearly, I’d read (and loved) the book before. Aiyiyi!

I’m pretty sure I’ve used this photo before, but here it is. Again!

I keep a list of Books Read these days, but I only started it a few years ago. This one isn’t on it. Well, at least I read it more than a few years ago. That helps. And I suppose one could be grateful for the chance to read, again, a lovely book, with fresh eyes, with a brain that is unsullied by this or that from a previous reading. This book was definitely worth a second reading. Or possibly even a third?

Ah well. Now I’m going to add a poem that I am very well aware I have added to a previous post. You needn’t point it out! It’s just too perfect for this one and half of you probably won’t remember having read it before, anyway. 😉

Forgetfulness – Billy Collins

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue
or even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall

well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Sold!

“Yosemite”

I just sold a painting I thought I wanted to keep forever. It went to a very good friend who has wanted it for months. (She lives nearby, too.)

I’ve listened to painters talk about the struggle in the creation of a finished piece. The struggle, the failures, the wrong turns, the stress, the self-doubt, destroying a painting to make it better–all real but fairly new to me. Oh, I struggled with a collage now and then, but there you’re shifting the pieces around. You don’t glue them until you’re happy with it. With a painting, you put something down, you might hate it immediately and take it off, or you may like it at the moment and an hour later or the next day, you hate it. A dog’s breakfast.

Me and my painting hanging in the Daum Museum

This painting is significant to me partly because it was such a struggle. I worked and worked on it, again and again rejecting what I had done. And then, suddenly, it was finished. A triumph! I had solved the problems with it. The painting and I had reached an agreement. I fell in love with it. There are many things I love about it: the “string of pearls” at the top, the pops of orange, pink and red, poking through all that luscious blue, the dots and pink circles I made with my fingers, the many layers of color and mark. I felt that I had achieved a certain level of mastery with this one. I love this painting.

Then it was chosen to go to the Daum Museum in Sedalia MO along with art works by several other Missouri artists whom I admire. That was thrilling. It meant that others, people who know a few things about art, felt that it was a triumph, as well. It spent the summer there. And I went with three friends to see my painting hanging in a museum, no less!

Here’s a close-up of the “string of pearls.”

Meanwhile, my friend really wanted it. She was saving a spot on her newly painted wall. She made several overtures. I thought no, I want to keep this one because of what I went through to finish it. We talked. I said I’d see how I felt once I brought the painting home.

Then I realized that, as they say, it’s the doing of a thing that is more important than the thing itself. I will always hold the feeling of my triumph. I will always have the satisfaction of having struggled and broken through to the other side of that struggle. I will always remember the excitement I felt when, suddenly, it was finished and suddenly, I loved it.

I don’t need to have it here in order to feel those things and know those things. I did that. I feel that. That will not go away if the painting goes and lives somewhere else. And my friend really loves it. Aren’t these the things we’re looking for when we create? Our own pleasure and growth in the doing, plus the knowledge that what we’ve made brings joy to someone else? So I leaned towards selling it to her, leaned into the idea, and then, on a gorgeous evening at an outdoor concert, I said I’d love for her to have it if she still wanted it. And her face lit up. So that’s that. Another sudden breakthrough.

I am continually surprised at how painting–creativity in general but somehow painting in particular–teaches me things, helps me grow, adds layers to who I am. Just as I add layers to my paintings, they add layers to me. You cannot beat that. Cannot.

“Every now and then one paints a picture that seems to have opened a door and serves as a stepping stone to other things.” ― Pablo Picasso

“The discipline of creation, be it to paint, compose, write, is an effort towards wholeness.” ― Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water

“To talk about paintings is not only difficult but perhaps pointless too. You can only express in words what words are capable of expressing– what language can communicate. Painting has nothing to do with that.” ― Gerhard Richter

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Abundance

I’m writing this on my 72nd birthday. I think I’ve said so before, but I always like to check my birthday number in terms of the mathematical principles of abundant, deficient, perfect, and prime.

Prime numbers, as everyone knows, cannot be divided by anything else. Perfect numbers’ divisors add up exactly to the number itself, and that is very cool. Deficient numbers are those whose factors (divisors) add up to less than the number itself, whereas abundant numbers’ factors add up to more than the number itself.

Well, 72 is incredibly abundant. Yeehah!! I take this as a sign that my 72nd year will be filled with abundance. And I am here to say that it has already begun.

Last night I went on a night bike ride sponsored by our Parks & Rec Department, called Kaleidospoke. It’s all about lights and color (much like the Lantern Festival in Taiwan). I went with three wonderful friends who had gifted me with my ticket to the event, including a “glow package” and s’mores by the lake. The ride is on a gravel trail with many bridges over the creek. The bridges are all lit up and there are lots of other lights poking out of the ground or otherwise lining the trail. Magical!

And then of course, starting out at 7:00 p.m., in the gathering light, sunset is happening over the lake. Ahh. So lovely. We, ourselves, were lit up, as were our bikes. We had things stuck on top of our helmets or dangling off of us. Lots of people had lit up their bike wheels. It was super fun, but especially so because of the company I was in. Already I’m feeling the abundance.

I won twice in a row at Mah Jongg on Friday, too! And on Wednesday when I returned, after years away to play pickleball at the gym, I won game after game. Strangers were happy to meet me. I learned the names of 15 new people! One (Chuck) said, “Come back. We want you here.” I told my son, “I’m Somebody there!” Abundance.

So the abundance is all happening.

Just to say, whenever I hit a year whose number is deficient, I ignore that, and I think you should, too. But the other three–woohoo!! And since it’s my birthday and I’m having a party, I’ll have to keep this one short.

I hope your year forward is also ABUNDANT!

“Keep your best wishes close to your heart and watch what happens”― Tony DeLiso, Legacy: The Power Within

“Plant seeds of happiness, hope, success, and love; it will all come back to you in abundance. This is the law of nature.” ― Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You

“The truth is that there’s more than enough good to go around. There are more than enough creative ideas. There is more than enough power. There is more than enough love. There’s more than enough joy. All of this begins to come through a mind that is aware of its own infinite nature. There is enough for everyone. If you believe it, if you can see it, if you act from it, it will show up for you. That’s the truth.” ― Michael Beckwith

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Miles’ 14th Birthday

Miles, my sweet and stalwart companion, turned 14 on August 19th. He is 73 in miniature poodle years. I will turn 72 on August 27th, so we are almost the same age. And yet I feel in such better shape than he seems to be.

I worry about him all the time. He is covered with lypomas (fatty tumors) and seems to get another new one weekly. I feel like they impede his movements, though I’m told they do not. He struggles both to lie down and to get up from lying down, both of which he does many times a day, as he follows me around the house. He seems to have trouble finding a comfortable place to lie, as well. I give him three different medications for his aches and pains. Do they help? At all?? I can’t see it, if so.

And he is the younger of my two dogs. He seems to have gone from hale and hearty to OLD in a very short time.

On his 5th birthday

Such is the heartbreak of loving animals. Their lives are just too short.

For his birthday I gave him extra canned food for breakfast, carried treats in my pocket for our walk, and since he loves other dogs, took him to the dog park so he could meet lots of them. And then later, he had presents to open. He loves opening packages. All fine enough. But I watched all those young, fit dogs running and swimming, having a wonderful time, and wished that my darling Miles could join them and have that kind of fun, himself.

I have accepted my own aging much better than I have his. I’ve slowed down, too, but I really am doing fine. I can walk much farther than he can and do just about anything I really want to do. I rather enjoy calling myself an Old Lady and I’m even, mostly, proud of it. Oh, I worry about my brain sometimes, but my body still serves me well. His? Not so much. And he can’t talk or joke about it. He can’t say, “Oh, I’m fine. I really am fine. Don’t you worry your tiny little (old) brain about it.”

And Rufus, with his terrible history as a stray, the broken leg, his heart murmur, spinal stenosis, and Addison’s disease, well, of course I understand why he has issues. And he has done very well, considering. So I can accept this and actually feel grateful for how well he has done for all these years.

So this thing of acceptance with no strings attached? There, I’m stuck. The Buddha taught that fighting against the realities of life creates suffering. I am here to say, “Okay, Buddha! You’re right!”

You, reader, might be expecting a possibly uplifting conclusion right about now. I’m not sure what it can be, other than that I will just keep trying to accept what is, as we all must, even for those innocent Others. I’ll love on Miles and do what I can do for him. And try to practice acceptance.

“You think those dogs will not be in heaven! I tell you they will be there long before any of us.”― Robert Louis Stevenson

“All his life he tried to be a good person. Many times, however, he failed. For after all, he was only human. He wasn’t a dog.”― Charles M. Schulz

“A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours. Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He taught me to appreciate the simple things–a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty.”― John Grogan, Marley and Me

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Everyone Has a Story

Lots of people seem to think their lives are uneventful. Nothing that interesting ever happens to them, nothing worth writing down. I don’t think that is true.

Last week I wrote to you about lovely Ida, whom I met at a yard sale. It was quite a memorable experience for me. I can think of many weeks when I’ve sat down to write one of these letters and easily recalled something that happened or something a friend or stranger had said that provided me with a story to tell. I don’t think that is exclusive to me. I think everyone has a story. Everyone has multiple stories.

I often see one or both of these owls in our backyard.

My Aunt Marie, for example, probably would have said that her life was not that interesting. She lived with her mother nearly all her life. But she had stories! She once told me that she’d gone to a new dentist one time and he died. She found another, went to him just one time, and he died. Found a third, went to him once only and guess what? He died! So it’s not a big story and I’m not sure if there’s any deep meaning to it–but it’s a head-scratcher and definitely worth telling. I can still see the way her face looked as she told it. Amused but also a little bit naughty. (The next dentist my aunt went to survived her first appointment and many more. Unfortunately, I went to him one time and found him to be a mean, crabby, horrible man.)

Aunt Marie also had a passing acquaintance with Tina Turner!

So I had this conversation with a friend about the fact that everyone’s life is interesting in some way and could be written up into a book or a set of short stories. Just look at StoryCorps. There, you can listen to story after story, told by ordinary people about their particular lives. Oh, some are pretty big, sometimes astonishing, sometimes chilling. But some are just quiet little stories told by regular people like you and me.

My quiet little story about Ida last week elicited many responses from you readers. And it is one that will affect me for a long time. We all have stories. And our stories are worth telling, worth writing down. I bet you wish you knew the stories of someone who’s no longer here to tell them. I know I do. I bet you have a story to tell of your own. I bet someone you care about will want to know it. Write it down. Tell it. It’s yours. That makes it worth telling.

“After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.” ― Philip Pullman

“But there’s a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begin.” ― Mitch Albom, For One More Day

“Listen, and you will realize that we are made not from cells or from atoms. We are made from stories.” ― Mia Couto

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Ida

I met God at a yard sale near my home recently. I’m calling her Ida.

Miles and I stopped in at a yard sale a block away, mostly because we were just walking past but also because it was at a yard I particularly admire for its rustic creativity. I commented about this to a sturdily built African American woman who was there and we both wanted to have a peek into the backyard, as well. But then, all of a sudden, she turned to me and said, “God is telling me to pray for you.”

Whoa! I was the tiniest bit taken aback. But I’d had a rough week and my eyes stung immediately. I told her I’d had a hard week but that it was mostly resolved now. She said, “That was God. Is it okay if I pray for you?” So I said sure. Really, why not? Then, “Would you give me your hand?” Again, whoa! I hadn’t expected that she would pray for me right then and there. I figured she would add me to her list later that day or the next morning in church. Nope. Right then and there, holding my hand and out loud. In the middle of a yard sale. And then she handed me a bracelet with this passage from Corinthians on it: “Faith Hope Love. Abide by these three. But the greatest of these is love.” And off she went.

I did not get her name, though she had asked for mine, for the prayer. She was skilled at praying, that was clear. As she drove off, I placed my hand on my heart, gave her a nod, and she waved. I was so touched. She had not asked if I went to church or believed in God or Jesus or anything like that. Just like I imagine God would do.

I’ve decided that I will call her Ida and she will be my version of God. And I believe I will take up praying to Ida. I have thought of her every day and I love the idea of this sturdy, bosomy African American woman in shorts and a t-shirt as my God.

Since that day I’ve made some very nice changes that will make my life better, too, changes that I’ve struggled over. So thank you, Ida. You have made a difference.

I am convinced that we need to be open to whatever and whomever comes our way. I don’t always manage it but I do believe it’s important to do. I am very grateful for the fact that I chanced by that yard sale at that particular time and that Ida did, too. You just never know, do you? You just never know what is waiting around the corner for you.

Who has made a difference in your life lately? What random encounter has changed you?

“Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.” ― Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

“This place where you are right now, God circled on a map for you.” – Hafez

“Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul. It is daily admission of one’s weakness. It is better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.” ― Mahatma Gandhi

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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To See Takes Time

Georgia O’Keeffe watercolor

One of my big inspirations in New York City was the Georgia O’Keeffe exhibit at MoMA, titled “To See Takes Time.”

O’Keeffe is best known for her gorgeous flower paintings, but the focus of this exhibit was her watercolors and drawings in pencil, charcoal, and pastel. These are mostly works on paper and it was clear from the exhibit notes and quotes that she was having just so much fun with each medium she used. I found the joy she expressed about using all of these different media contagious. I couldn’t wait to start playing around with all of these things that I already had at home but rarely used.

Charcoal

Here’s what she wrote (in a letter, I believe) about that particular time in her artist’s journey: “I decided to start anew–to strip away what I had been taught, to accept as true my own thinking. This was one of the best times of my life. There was no one around to look at what I was doing, no one interested, no one to say anything about it one way or another. I was alone and singularly free . . . no one to satisfy but myself. I began with charcoal and paper and decided not to use any color until it was impossible to do what I wanted to do in black and white. I believe it was June before I needed blue.”

My biggest inspirations in art seem to come from artists whose work expresses joy in some way. Joy in the doing, as she expressed, joy in the beauty of the work, joy in the colors and shapes. This work of hers and what she wrote about it touched my spirit in all of these ways.

Pastel

I have come home and played with charcoal, crayons, and pastels more than I had done for a long time. I’ve played around in my sketchbooks, which I often neglect. I’ve had fun and discovered a few things, but I’m itching to do more. I want to carry her spirit of joyful experimentation into all of what I do.

And isn’t that just life? There’s always something new to learn and someone new to take inspiration from, even if that person is teaching you to “accept as true” your own ideas about your art, your own way of thinking, your own creativity.

So this is my imperative. Play, create, follow my own threads, find my joy (not unlike the name and focus of the Louise Fletcher course that got me painting in the first place) and accept as true my own ideas for my own art.

“I long ago came to the conclusion that even if I could put down accurately the thing I saw and enjoyed, it would not give the observer the kind of feeling it gave me. I had to create an equivalent for what I felt about what I was looking at–not copy it.” – Georgia O’Keeffe

“Interest is the most important thing in life; happiness is temporary, but interest is continuous. – Georgia O’Keeffe

“Imagination makes you see all sorts of things.” – Georgia O’Keeffe

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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The City So Nice They Named It Twice

Windows at LaGuardia Airport

New York New York, what a wonderful town! I am just back from storied NYC, where I soaked up time with my sons along with museum after museum, and loads of inspiration for painting.

The bridges! The skyline! The murals! The parks! The hubbub! The art. The inimitable spirit of New York City never fails to give me a boost. We went to The Met, aka The Embarrassment of Riches, the first night and again on that last, extra day given to me by the rain and Southwest Airlines. Thank you, thank you, thank you. We went to MoMA, the Brooklyn Museum, Dia (in Beacon NY), Christie’s Auction House, the Morgan Library and the Natural History Museum (full of nature’s art).

African textiles at the Brooklyn Museum

I’ve come home feeling almost too full. Van Gogh’s Cypresses at the Met, Georgia O’Keeffe’s watercolors and drawings at MoMA, the AI art of Rafik Anadol at MoMA, the huge iron pieces of Richard Serra at Dia, the musical instruments so artfully displayed at The Met (everything so beautifully displayed at The Met!), all the art everywhere. So many many things to take in and embrace. I was inspired by colors and shapes and yet I feel almost too full, not sure where to go with all of it.

I had thought I’d come home and paint a series of pieces in indigo blue and orange, having been captivated by the African fabrics against an orange wall. But what about the black and white pieces that I loved? And the sumptuous play of colors in that mind-blowing AI installation? What of O’Keeffe’s adventures with watercolor, charcoal, and pastels, one medium after another?

The beautiful Chrysler Building at dusk, across the East River

I loved ALL of it. I want to DO all of it. Yet time rushes by. Like the East River, it just keeps moving. And apparently, one needs to assimilate back into regular life. One must manage meds for the elderly dogs, schedule piano lessons for the school year, buy groceries, do laundry, somehow figure out what to do for one’s tiny business, tackle the weeds in the yard, imagine how a new floor might be put in the kitchen . . . All the things. So many things. All the things of regular life that one joyfully puts aside while off exploring.

This is how we do when we go away and come back home. And it means that we’re lucky to have the going away as well as the home to return to.

Yet the indigo blue and orange seduce me. The black and white. Glorious gobs of color, too. The urge to explore with all the media. I don’t want to lose that energy. It feels fragile, tenuous. I don’t want it to slip and fall beneath all the things.

“Did you ever have something to say and feel as if the whole side of the wall wouldn’t be big enough to say it on, and then sit down on the floor and try to get it onto a sheet of charcoal paper?” – Georgia O’Keefe

“As for New York City, it is a place apart. There is not its match in any other country in the world.” ― Pearl S. Buck

“To see takes time.” – Georgia O’Keeffe

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Itty Bitty Pleasures

Here’s a little bitty simple pleasure that never fails to make me smile. Recently, I shared it with a couple of out-of-towners on the trail here in Columbia, just because it’s fun.

Jewel Weed, aka “Touch-Me-Not,” aka Impatiens Capensis, is a lovely plant on its own, lush and green with large flat leaves that hold raindrops nicely. It’s visually pretty even without blooms, but the blooms are quite lovely. They come in orange, with spots, and yellow. We have a lot of the yellow variety in the woods and along trails around here. I’ve had some in my yard, as well, alongside the little creek that runs through.

But wait! There’s fun!

The fun comes in when they’ve put out their seed pods. We don’t call them Touch-Me-Not because they sting or itch. It’s because if you lightly press a fully ripe seed pod (like the one above) between your thumb and forefinger, it pops right open! Never fails to bring a smile. It’s one of nature’s more lively ways of propagating plants. And the coiled valve that pops it open and sometimes lands in your hand is pretty cool, too.

So kids and adults love to search for the pods that are just about ready to burst. If you walk along popular trails you’ll often have to search pretty hard for them, because so many walkers are playing the Jewel Weed game.

Jewel Weed can be medicinal, too, as an antidote to poison ivy. Robin Wall Kimmerer writes, in her wonderful book Gathering Moss, that you’ll often find it growing near poison ivy. The cure often grows near the troublemaker. Isn’t nature wonderful? It is.

So there’s your woodland report from here. What’s fun or interesting in your neck of the woods? Please do tell.

“Our indigenous herbalists say to pay attention when plants come to you; they’re bringing you something you need to learn.” ― Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass

“Paying attention is a form of reciprocity with the living world, receiving the gifts with open eyes and open heart.”― Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass

“A Cheyenne elder of my acquaintance once told me that the best way to find something is not to go looking for it.”― Robin Wall Kimmerer, Gathering Moss

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”