The Shape of Things...

I spend a lot of time looking out the window. I run my eyes over the ever-changing contours, colors, and shapes. Early this morning, a storm rolled through. The sun was just barely up. I watched the mist roll down through the mountains, winding its way through the valley and between the trees that have witnessed this view far longer than I. Sometimes it would rain. Great lined sheets would cut across the horizon. I looked out the window and traced the lines of the clouds, noting how the melding forms of sky and grey-green earth became one... then separate... then one again.

My days are much like this. Each day is new and offers opportunity, but when I try to sketch the details, they blur and seep into each other. One detail transforms into another. These are full days. I work until my hands are tired and my eyes sting with soreness. Then I drill pots until I can stand the ringing in my ears no more. Then I fill the pots, one at a time, with plants. Some of the plants are native. Some of them I've carried from deserts far away. The soil feels good in my hands. It grounds me. I am thankful for these quiet moments. When all the pots I've drilled are full, I go back to work. I answer emails and write and draw and plan and make. I make. I make beautiful things. Some of these things no one will ever see. Some of them are beautiful in those moments only, and are taken apart when those fleeting moments are over. They become one... then separate... then one again.