Little Green Dot

I cried myself to sleep last night because I’ll miss Nick Karasch, my sweet friend, my fellow insomniac, who kept me company online in the wee hours between dusk and dawn when no one else was awake. And last night as I lay in bed I felt his presence around me and I heard his voice telling me that I was right about it all. That he’s ok. That I can rest. But in that stillness, at 2:34 in the morning when I awaken, who will accompany me until my eyes grow heavy again with the weight of night? And I say, “Goodnight buddy. Talk again soon.”

Sometimes, I would see the little green dot next to his name and I didn’t reach out. I was just comforted that the dot was there. That Nick was there, somewhere in the same sleeplessness. And that the cancer hadn’t yet claimed him.

Now I see his name above my Facebook chat, but no little green dot next to the icon of his smiling face to let me know he’s there. I write to him anyway. I tell him Fuck cancer. Fuck it! and that I miss him. I tell him please come see me in my dreams.

Yesterday before I left the gathering of the celebration of his life, I touched the top of his shiny blue urn. It was encircled with Peace Lilies and various flowers in white; his name engraved on an ornate tag, like the ones on fancy cut-glass liquor bottles filled with potions like Gin, Rum, Vodka. Nicholas. The whole of him reduced into a container of ashes.

He was a great kid. He stayed positive and hopeful until his eyes closed for the last time and the green dot by the circle of his smiling-faced-icon disappeared. All of our conversations lost forever to cyberspace.

Grief is for us, us ya know? The ones left behind. I know Nick is in a place we can only imagine. The freedom. The release. The bursting forth from the constraints of bodily living. It must be incredible. And almost all of me is happy he’s there. The selfish part of me still wants him back, and the comfort of the little green dot of him too.

Goodnight buddy. Skate on. Goodnight.

Unlocking the Timeless Elegance: Exploring Anna Wintour's Jewelry Collection

     In the realm of fashion, few names hold as much sway and reverence as Anna Wintour. The formidable editor-in-chief of Vogue magazine is not only a powerhouse in the industry but also a style icon in her own right. While her signature bob and sunglasses are instantly recognizable, it's her exquisite taste in jewelry that truly sets her apart. Join us on a little journey as we delve into the captivating world of Anna Wintour's jewelry collection, where each piece tells a story of elegance, sophistication, and timeless allure.

Anna Wintour's Bold Jewelry Choices

Anna Wintour is renowned for her ability to make a statement, both on and off the pages of Vogue. When it comes to jewelry, she follows the same philosophy, opting for bold, eye-catching pieces that command attention. From oversized statement necklaces to intricate cuff bracelets, Wintour effortlessly elevates her ensembles with the perfect accessory. Discover how her signature chunky gold chain necklace adorned with large pearls embodies the perfect fusion of classic and contemporary style.

Every aspect of Anna Wintour's style is carefully curated to reflect her personal brand and the image she projects to the world. Her jewelry choices are no exception, serving as a visual representation of her impeccable taste and discerning eye. Whether she's attending a fashion show or gracing the red carpet, Wintour's jewelry always speaks volumes about her confidence, sophistication, and unwavering commitment to excellence. Her jewelry collection embodies the art of personal branding and inspires fashionistas everywhere!

Anna Wintour's jewelry collection serves as a source of inspiration for fashion enthusiasts around the globe. From aspiring editors to seasoned stylists, everyone can learn something from her impeccable sense of style and her fearless approach to accessorizing. Whether you're drawn to bold statement pieces or prefer the timeless elegance of pearls, there's something in Wintour's collection to suit every taste and occasion. Be inspired to elevate your own jewelry game and embrace the power of personal expression through adornment, just like Anna Wintour!

Anna Wintour's jewelry collection is a testament to her status as a true fashion icon. With her keen eye for design, her love for statement pieces, and her unwavering support for emerging talent, Wintour continues to set the standard for elegance and sophistication in the world of fashion. As we admire her impeccable styling and iconic accessories, we can't help but be inspired to emulate her aesthetic and infuse our own wardrobe with a touch of Wintour-worthy glamour.

Sacred Cake Jewelry is my top pick for go to pieces that ooze glamour at the best prices!

VISIT SACRED CAKE HERE! Everything is ON SALE!

#AnnaWintour

#WintourStyle

#FashionIcon

#VogueEditor

#FashionQueen

#WintourWear

#VogueChief

#WintourWisdom

#StyleInspiration

#Fashionista

#FashionLeader

#WintourElegance

#StyleIcon

#FashionEditor

#VogueBoss

The High School Drop Out and My Third Grade Self, A Letter to Abbie Zysk

 Dear Abbie,

    In the third grade, I was supposed to know my times tables by heart. I didn’t. My step father would abruptly ask me times table questions at dinner. I hated it. I grew to have terrible anxiety when it was time to eat. I thought to myself as I got seated, what’s six times seven? Eight times nine? All the while, my stomach in knots. Would I get spanked for not knowing? I loved it so much more when he was away, and it was just my mother and my baby sister and I at the table. There were still mashed potatoes, but no anxiety over math. No beady eyes through tinted glasses, staring at me across the table, stoic with fork in hand. Waiting for an answer.

  So, math was never my thing. I only associated it with anxiety and feelings of not enoughness. I attempted Algebra II twice in high school and failed both times. I believed I was not a “math person”. I began at Southwestern College when I was pregnant with my fifth child, Jeremy, who is now 16. Again, I took Algebra II, and finally passed. My teacher, Mr. Leonard, was kind and compassionate, much like you Abbie. He loved us. He loved his work. I passed Algebra II after taking the exam in his office, in tears, 8 months pregnant. Hormones raging. Anxiety at its peak. He calmed me. I passed and I was so proud of it.

    After fifty-something credits geared toward graphic design, I left the college to peruse my dreams of “becoming” something. And I did.With exhaustive work, I ended up with a three year contract and jewelry line with a major gift company. Creating and caring for my children became my life for a decade.Then I ran a little shop in town for several years, immersing myself in creating displays, window dressing, ordering, hobknobbing with customers, and making people laugh. I even ran the register with minimal screw ups. Depending on who you talk to. Insert laughing Emoji here. It would be 15 years before I took another math class, all the time, the image of myself not being a “math person” firmly embedded inside of me. Feeling not smart enoughness. My third grade self still in there, my dropout self still in there, telling me I was just stupid.

    When the corona virus hit and I left the beloved little shop, the between spaces allowed me to breathe and reflect on the next phase of my life. I had been a successful artist and the shop had become a thriving business, but the little light, the desire to do something more...something more meaningful, still shone inside of me. I decided to return to school. And that, Abbie, is how I met you.

    In my usual hasty fashion, I took whatever math class fit into the equation of finishing as soon as possible. How hard could statistics be? Didn’t you just plug things into a program and write down what you got? Au contraire. I would tell people that Stats class was kicking my ass. I wasn’t kidding. I looked around the class...I was old enough to be everyone’s mother, even yours Abbie. My own mother though I was crazy for going back. She said I didn’t have the mind for it anymore. So me and the stupid third grader and the drop out inside of me took those words. We drank them up like freshly cut tulip stems, thirsty for water. Not the words from my husband, who said that I can do anything I put my mind to, or the words of my kids who said, “you got this mom”.

    I remember the first few days of class so clearly. Within the first ten minutes, I though for sure I had gotten myself in too deep. For me, it was very much like sitting through two hours of a foreign language class with no clue how to say a single word. And I quickly found that I could not round decimals. That skill got lost somewhere. I would sit at my desk, with my third grade self, and the college drop out inside of me, staring at the numbers on the page with complete dismay. Seeds of doubt became weeds of despair. It was getting too crowded in there Abbie. I taught myself to round decimals, with your guidance. I mastered it. I worked and worked and worked, for hours and hours, at it. Balled up paper all around me. Breaking the leads out of my pencils, erasing holes in paper, until I got it.

    I learned the symbols. With your kind and tireless instruction, I learned. You are the kind of teacher the world needs. Passionate about the subject matter. Eager to help students in any way possible. People never forget their teachers. Especially the good ones. You are one of those.

    On final exam day, I was so nervous. My hands shook. That isn’t like me. I’ve gotten good at talking myself down from ledges over the past 51 years. But not that one. Not that. The high school drop out and the dumb third grader, and my mother’s voice all inside of me....that got the best of me. I took a deep breath and opened the test. I had three hours. Oh shit. I had a time limit?  Oh that’s right. We had a time limit. I must have blocked that out. That sent me over the edge. All the loud voices of “I can’t” became louder and crowded out the others.

    Abbie, you told me that I could do this. I clung to your voice, through unruly tears that I couldn’t stop. It wasn’t just about the test. It was about all of my failures. Failures as a mother. Failures as a person. Failures in life choices, husbands, moves, homes, things I said, clothing, weight....it all cascaded in that moment. It sounds ridiculous. I know. Shouldn’t I have worked all that shit out in therapy? All I did was look at the first problem. Everything I learned, everything I beat into my brain, flew out of the window the moment that I knew I didn’t know the answer to the first problem.

    But you were there. You took the time to assure me, even during the test, that I knew it. It was in there. The dumb third grader, who dreaded report card day, could do this. The pregnant college drop out could do this. The bad choice maker could do this. The 51 year old woman with the foggy brain could do this.

And I did.

Thanks to you.

I will never forget you. Ever. To me, you are a super hero. An angel. A light in the darkness.

    The third grader, the drop out and the middle aged artist in me made this for you. A tiny token of appreciation. I just want to leave this letter here for you, for always. My teacher. So you know how you made a difference in my life that was more than just teaching me about medians and decimals. You helped me to find within me, something I thought I had lost. Courage. Tenacity. A love for the sound of pencil on paper.

Blue Hues: Statement Necklaces Echoing the Serenity of Water

As a girl growing up in the deep south, water was truly an essential elixir. Water was a beacon of hope when the oppressive heat of the Florida summer summoned every drop of moisture from my smooth brown skin. Florida heat is not a dry heat, it's steamy and sauna - like. Wading into sea green waves, cool blue swimming pools, leaning over the sides of bass boats to run my fingers through the dark waters of Lake Santa Fe. Those were the ways to escape the scorch of the summer sun.
I think of these things as I make my necklaces, setting the sparkling rhinestones in the colors of deep blues, Aquamarine, iridescent grays and pale greens. They are like fastening tiny memories together, one by one, into something beautiful and tangible.
I had never heard of Anna Wintour until about 7 years ago when a customer asked me to create a Georgian collet Necklace like the ones she is famous for wearing. More and more requests came, for different shapes and styles as I added my own interpretation of the antique pieces that inspired me.
My favorite is my signature and most popular piece, the aquamarine colored statement necklace in gold settings. The color of the stones sends me somewhere back to the white sands of the gulf coast...clean and blue and clear. Making these pieces is a meditation in beauty. For me, I'm not just making jewelry. I'm making memories. I'm conjuring goodness and then sending it out into the world.

Anna Wintour necklace, Aquamarine 

Anna Wintour collet Necklace in Aquamarine  and Sapphire

Embrace Eco-Chic: Sacred Cake's Green Goddess Statement Necklaces

vintage peridot rhinestone statement necklace 

There is something about the color green that is immediately soothing. In these statement necklaces and earrings that I create, it evokes in me a feeling of quiet woodlands, ferns and maple trees dancing in dappled light, contemplation and stillness. Things that, as of late, I seem to require more and more to survive life at the speed of light. I became 50 this year, and the days seem to disintegrate into darkness faster and faster. I need  calm. I need green. Lots of green.
    There is something magical in these pieces. When the vintage green glass stones emerge from the soupy concoction I use to remove their old foil backs, and they are rinsed and dried and lying on the counter in the sunlight...like treasures that delight my senses in some ancient way. Something covetous. Something deep in me sighing and in love with the way the light plays on the transparent glass.

You can find my work on ETSY.
 

Emerald necklace

Emerald earrings 

Pale green, olive statement  necklaces

Pushing the Piano Home

I came across a small, chapel sized upright piano on its side last Monday in someones yard two hours before you had to leave to teach.
It was fate, i said. Something told me i needed to go out.
Snow and rain was coming.
It had to be now,
I said.
And without hesitation, you put on your coat and shoes and we walked hastily down the weathered sidewalk to save it from sure death at the hands of the hangings-on of winter rains and snow...
Somehow we moved it from where it stood tipped on its end by the owners front door and to the street by working together and walking it gently side to side to side.
Once we get it to the street i said,
Its all pretty much down hill from here....
And we looked toward home together. Surveying the potholes, dips and little inclines...
Bright yellow water tower marking our home like a giant pin on the grand map of our lives together.
We began to push.
A bit like guiding a renegade canoe i said, right?
A bit even like giving birth, it is.
We took turns being the steerer and the pusher, working together...stopping to rest when the other could go no longer.
Leaning on the piano for support.
Leaning on eachother.
Just think of how the children will love this, we said to one another, heavy breathing, laughing at the spectacle we must be with us and the loud rumbling of the piano going down the street.
We made it home.
And a weary high five went up.
We pushed that piano almost five blocks together. Didn't we dear?
What a story to pass along, right love?
A lesson in marriage, i said.
Right, you said between heavy breaths. We were winded and cold from the morning air, but excited...how often does an opportunity like this come along? We said.
A free piano.
I used to take lessons, you know. And you knew because I've only told you a million times over the last 10 years.
But you listened nonetheless, like it was the first time you ever heard it.
We lost a leg off the front of it in the last hundred yards or so. The vibration and rumbling was too much for that poor thing.
Nothing that can't be fixed, you said.
Nothing that can't be fixed.
Then i covered our prize with plastic and quilts and after you left for class the rain finally came.
I thought for certain our hard work was in vain.
And then i thought to myself, it was all about the journey together.
And even if our treasure got ruined outside in the elements, we would still have the memory.
Or perhaps we made someone watching from their window chuckle...or we gave someone a little hope...or a moment to simply forget for awhile and watch that crazy couple out there in the cold,
Pushing a piano home.

Rosy Tomorrows, Sacred Cake and Grace

Yesterday  was most extraordinary...made up of moments that you simply have to write about. It was an I-cannot-stop-smiling kind of day. Like a strand of sparkling white Christmas lights; one moment just as bright as the next. One moment today, in particular, had such clarity. It was the kind of moment that makes a little lump in your throat with the gratitude of it all...little bits of serendipity....the amazing grace that God sends in the words, the face and the embrace of a stranger. The kind of moment in which you just know that God is at work in your life.

Those kinds occasions have always been my most favorite kind.

            I am incredibly blessed to have my work displayed in a beautiful shop in downtown Dowagiac, Michigan called “Rosy Tomorrows”. Isn’t that a great name?!

As I tied up some loose ends behind the counter, I overheard a customer in the shop exclaim how excited she was that Rosy Tomorrows had Sacred Cake jewelry…I listened for a minute as she talked about how much she loved Sacred Cake and how beautiful everything was. I told her that I was, in fact, “The Sacred Cake Lady”…and we ended up  meeting excitedly across the shop in a tight embrace…

After that sweet customer left with several pair of earrings that I had made, I said out loud to my friend Claudia (the shop owner), “Is this really my life?!” As the tears welled up in my eyes, and I was met with another embrace; this time from lovely Claudia, I could only think of the mystery and wonder of God’s grace. Just weeks ago I felt a bit (Okay, a lot) lost. Self-doubt became a constant tapping on my shoulder and I lost sight of the truest part of who I am and what I love. I worried about money. I worried about time. I worried about those tough decisions. I worried about the undone things…and the done things that pulled me down like a soaking wet quilt tied around my waist.

            Today in that brief sparkling instant, I was reminded that even though my work does not involve words, quotes or mantras, it still speaks. It brings joy and color and beauty to the wearer. When I teach, my students feel such accomplishment and joy (as do I). It is the work of my heart infused with love. It is about the most important thing in the world---other people. The truest part of me…of all of us…is the part that is priceless. The most important part of us is the imprint that we leave in the hearts and minds of others. We were created with love. We were made to love and we were made to shine to the best of our ability.

            I was reminded today that it is alright to feel lost; but to be open to the gentle unfolding of the hands of grace. I was reminded to remain present, release the worry and bring my awareness back to center. Because grace can show up when you least expect it.

            I am so humbled  by it all.

In my studio, a tiny bouquet from the yard.

Bringing the Outside In, and UP

     Ever since I can remember, I have loved the outdoors. As a girl, I spent hours playing in the woods, and swimming in Lake Santa Fe. As a teen, I would take long walks in the country to study wildflowers and animal tracks. It was there that I found my solace.

     Whenever I feel out of sorts and out of touch, a quick drive to the local woodland park is so incredibly restorative. Just fifteen minutes with the sound of the brook in my ears and surrounding trees can carry me a long time.

     Since most of my day is spent upstairs in my attic-shaped studio/bedroom, I like to be surrounded by the things that I love the most...favorite artwork, my beloved cat Lucy, good music, white linens, and as much plant life as possible!

     The upstairs room is quite large, but it is shaped in such a way that I have only one full sized window, so I have utilized every spare inch of it with favorite woodland inspired pottery, plants, and the overflow of my antique cigar box collection.

     My husband gave me gifts this past Christmas of a coveted double boxwood topiary and a sweet old shabby stepladder among other treasures…perfect additions to my ever crowding shabby pink plant table.

AH!More of what my heart desires; bringing the outside, in.

I added the ladder next to the old stool that holds a vintage watering can full of an unknown(to me) plant that blooms prolifically with beautiful purple flowers through fall and winter, then goes dormant in Spring and summer…odd, but true! It likes that window, and is accompanied by Baby’s Tears, fragrant English Lavender, delicate Rabbit’s Foot Fern and a Weeping Somethingorother. I have, by no means, a green thumb! There have been casualties over the years, but for the most part, I do fairly well for someone who doesn’t know much about plants!

I know what is manageable for me and I just keep it very simple.
I hope somehow this has inspired you, especially if you work from home and need a little lushness in your space.
If you cannot go out, just go UP!

Woodland Pottery by Leaves of Clay

Fashioned by Time, Assemblage Jewelry

For this assemblage necklace, I used a bit of antique netting and lace for the "chain" and ancient rhinestone bits along with a vintage buckle and a very old St. Dymphna medal.

St. Dymphna Free Me, assemblage necklace

For me, each old piece is a work of art in itself...fashioned by time and travel without my intervention. These timeless strays, once lost, now found and re-purposed into a little wearable work of art.  I think the missing rhinestones and verdigris gives them character and mystery. Perfection in imperfection.
--still my favorite pieces to create.

Holy Mystery, assemblage necklace

NEW Anna Wintour Collet Necklaces at Sacred Cake

This holiday season, it's all about the sparkle here at Sacred Cake! But wait, it is always about the sparkle over here isn't it? These new collet necklaces that I have created do not disappoint. My work is inspired by the antique collet necklace collection of Anna Wintour, and these new pieces are so yummy and so versatile.

NEW Topaz collet necklace, "Illumine"

"Northern Lights" collet necklace

Anna Wintour Style at a great price!

Shine on!

Find your special sparkle this season at Sacred Cake on Etsy!

In the Leaving

I haven't written in so long, but today I was prompted, perhaps by divine suggestion, to write. I found this poem in its raw form, handwritten on a rumpled piece of stationery on the floor as I was cleaning...with no idea where it came from or when I wrote it. A poem about a poem that I never wrote.

In the Leaving

“In the Leaving” was the title of a poem I once wrote,

Though I never finished it

Or even began it really.

I could never truly imagine life without you.

Perhaps it would be like an expanse of dark and time;

Like being wholly separated from God.

Separated from hope.

You are my savior of sorts

And “In the Leaving” fills me

With a silent knowing,

Yet it can still mystify me

Like the line of a song that I cannot remember,

But it is on the tip of my tongue.

Rising

And still.
I rise.
And
I rise
And I rise...

Sometimes when you begin to think that you have nothing, it really becomes everything you ever needed.

Shabby bridal comb

"Little Poetry Leaves" series by Sacred Cake

Wholesale Jennifer Valentine Jewelry (gone but not forgotten.)(I learned a lot)

pink line of Creative Co-op Jewelry (being discontinued)

 With the almost complete  phase out of my wholesale Jennifer Valentine Jewelry line with Creative Co-op, comes the inevitable feeling of total failure. And some tough lessons learned as well...but right now, the failure part and the "what if?" questions that invariably go through my mind.
I was told it was strictly a business decision and not to take it personally...that jewelry lines do not last very long...and i thought, well, no one told that to my idol, Miriam Haskell. Her jewelry line has outlived HER!
     The truth is, if I had it to do over again, there would have been much I would have done differently.  But I suppose that is where that cliché about  hindsight comes from. It is always easier to look back and see where things may have gone awry...but the truth is, that I know in my heart that I did my absolute best. It is really difficult for me because I thought that this "partnership" was going to be the thing that i stayed up all of those nights for, falling asleep with my pliers in my hands...
And that voice in my head that told me to keep going...surely the answer was Creative Co-op. That was the reason. My dreams had finally been realized.
It was all finally going to be ok.
Because the royalty checks were going to be the answer to the financial poverty that is all that I have known my whole adult life. (I say financial poverty, because I have never been impoverished of spirit or joy or gratitude!)
I am right back where I began, wondering what to do. Living below the national poverty line and struggling to make ends meet. Feeling like i have, once again,  failed myself and my children. I wanted my children to see that it was worth it. That hard work pays off. That the underdog can win...That all those nights i worked away at my little table were worth it.
I wanted to be their hero.
I'd be lying if I said that it didn't really sting when my boss asked for more products, only to later say that my line was being discontinued.
I'd be lying if i said i did not take it personally.
I'd be lying if i said i didn't still cry about that loss...and the loss of that identity...that feeling of "Look Ma, I finally managed to make something of myself!"
The truth is though, that i adore my work.
Giving it up, for me, would be like not breathing. 

I just cannot give up.
     I make pretty things that make women all over the world feel better...I create pretty things that become part of their life story.  I bring what one of my customers called "necessary beauty" to her life. That is what keeps me going, when I am doubtful.
I teach local women through the library system, how to make their very first pairs of earrings...i witness the look of joy and accomplishment on their faces.
That is worth more to me than all of the money in the world.
I have to believe that the end of Jennifer Valentine Jewelry with Creative Co-op does not mean that it is the end of the line for me. I have to believe that it is only the beginning of something greater and more significant. 

The Creative Co-op Catalog Jennifer Valentine section photo (the last)

I am so hoping to be noticed by boutiques interested in my handmade work, and I am working on a new collection in antiqued copper to come soon. I have also been working on my website, SacredCake.com, learning as I go!

It has proven to be difficult, as more people go mobile, I have to make the sight enhanced for Mobile viewing as well. WHEW. It has kinda been kicking my butt. I worked for several days just to get as far as I have, but it is becoming more of what I want it to be...to look more like "me". I am using the WIX.com plug in platform, for those of you interested. Be sure NOT to do what I did and build a website using flash.

SIGH.

Not the way to go for mobile formatting. 

Love and Light to you and yours,

Jennifer

My Delicious Secret

I dreamed of you last night.
You were my delicious secret, among the class
of delighted beginning painters,
disciples of your inspiration,
tribe of your tribe.
In secret I embraced you like a big sister would,
after a long journey home to you.
I called you shorty and I stroked your cheek.
It filled me, this dream.
Until I can see you again.
Beloved sister.
Beloved.

The Chopper from Nam

It is not just today that I remember you,
or your stories of getting on "the chopper" for a brief reprieve from the war to come see me right after my birth.
And there were times I wished you would have died there. That would have made a better story than a man who found the bottle more important than me.
There were times I wished you away, and hoped you would be replaced by the kind of father that I always dreamed of.
I got my wish, but then I lost him too.

I think of your stories of Nam. The ones you told me with tears in your eyes, and the ones you said you could never talk about...only then were you a man of few words, except how much you hated rice and what "dinky-dow" meant and how scared you were.

I remember laying my head in your lap. You smelled of grease and cigarettes and liquor. You told me I was daddy's little girl and that I'd always be just that. And I loved you in spite of yourself just the same.

When I think of you now, my heart aches. Because the unfinished business of you and I still keeps the wound a bit raw and open no matter how the years pass. Sometimes my heart aches for your voice and the roughness of your hands holding mine, and one more chance to fix things...but time does have a way of smoothing the creases. Finishing the raw edges and sewing together only the good stuff with the thread of forgiveness. 

I remember you proudly pulling the army green jacket you wore to war, out of the closet to show to me. 

I remember dancing with you to the beach boys.

I remember you keeping the christmas tree up until I got there that first summer.

I remember your rough and awkward embrace.

I remember your laughter.

I remember you.

Dad in his dress uniform, second from the left

Falling Up

Today, you and I, lay under the relished shade of the volunteer Mulberry tree.
Its berries, still tight and spring green. Nothing came between us but glinting slants of sun through the branches above, and for a very long while our world was silent, except for the soft chorus of our voices and far away birdsong.
Blue, blue sky and puffs of distant clouds were heralding the late afternoon heat to come, but we were cool together then, in the early hours of the May day.
The mortgage was not calling to us, the must do list wasn't mercilessly pounding like storm waves...the weight of things not pressing in.
Just you and I, for a beautiful while,
falling up together.

Dear Emerson

"Emerson, I am trying to live,  as you said we must, the examined life. But there are days I wish there was less in my head to examine. Not to speak of the busy heart."

Mary Oliver 

Today was one of those kind of days.
The one in which I found myself lost in thoughts of how far I could get from this particular life on the money in my bank account...
Which meant I was not going to get very far.
I caught the sky over an open field as I was driving and decided to pull over. I marveled at the beauty of the clouds and the way the rays of the sun made streaks, like light is depicted in ancient religious paintings.

 Emerson would have been proud...