“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing which stands in the way… " William Blake I, shamefully, have been postponing this blog post, written well before I left Durban, because I hadn't found proper mental closure. Leaving a place seems final in its simple form, when clarity for a return is left unexamined. The long flights between the ends hold a measure of uncertainty. Will I make it back? The Business of Trees is in large p

"If you love a place, you love the whole fiery sadness and glory of the place and you're made of it." Wendy Johnson This morning I wake up to the sultry sound of chanting, coming from across the park. It could be a call to prayer. It lasts a while, and is then drowned by the sounds of locals being led by a the measured commands of a trainer who orchestrates movement on the park’s aging metal gym equipment. It’s seven A.M. I can hear lots of things, my front windows open to s

My first weekend in Durban I sign up for a Graphic Illustration workshop at the KZNSA, which is walking distance from my apartment. As the weeks are already getting away from me, I know I must jump at these opportunities, even if I still have unpacking to do. Adjacent to the in/outdoor cafe and gift shop is a two-story gallery space where exhibits are constantly changing and I notice that classes are held. It doesn't matter much what class it is, I'm chuffed (I'm learning ne

These early days, I’m on a steep learning curve, I’ve been gathering data quickly, often by taking photographs so I have a visual. I am learning what fruits Sammy likes, which songs he prefers from his favorite movies that I will inevitably memorize. I'm learning how to fill his lunch box, how not to drip water to drip in his eyes when I wash his hair, and that he may cry a bit when he wakes from a nap. He’s very ticklish and loves to snuggle in the fuzzy blue robe I bought

Sometimes I think I can read minds, but my daughters can definitely read mine. My kiddos are waiting at King Shaka in Durban after I’ve pass through South African Customs and pick up my luggage. Ally holds the “Welcome Home, Savta” sign that she crafted the night before, the one I imagined them holding when I arrive. This is home with the true fullness of purpose I have worked hard for. Living in a place, in my own space for a full six months makes it especially real. Sam is

The trip is about forty hours long, split between three take-offs and landings. Savannah to JFK to Istanbul to Johannesburg to Durban. In Savannah at the Jet Blue counter, I bump into Roxanne Howard, (Rarely do you meet someone with the same name, let alone as nice as can be.) the check-in person, for the second time. She’s grown out her hair into dread locks, and has the same expansive smile. She does the same double-take as she did when my the name on my passport flashes on

After a thorough search, with all we have learned during our stay, we make a decision. It’s April, and we are signing papers for our new flat, a 60 square meter, pied-à-terre in the center of Glenwood, Durban. There is so much going for this little place. Location and the third floor with an elevator, (although I promise to take the stairs whenever I can), forth-floor views of the park and the harbor through a wall of South-facing windows that I expect will yield partial sunr

In December of 2018, my husband and I make the day-and-a half trek to South Africa. We decide to spend six weeks this time, because our previous month-long stays, his two years earlier and mine a quick year behind already, were just not enough. What differentiates this visit is my, crystal clear knowing that I can’t accept the absence of family any longer. Our daughter encourages us, (didn’t take much for me) to get a sense of how it would feel to enjoy more extended visits a

Ever since my parents retired to Florida in the 1970's, I have been without a family base in close proximity. They sold our home in Queens, New York when I was about twenty. I had left school a year earlier and found an apartment in anticipation of their plans for me, not suiting my own. My younger sisters went to Florida more willingly, middle sis still nurtured by the parental connection; the youngest was only 12. Visits to Florida happened yearly in winter. But as we ma

I continue to prepare my suitcase and my spirit for my seven-week stay in California. I'm leaving in a few days and learn that my daughter will have begun a ten-day business trip to Hong Kong. She is gone when I get there. And my son-in-law in recovering from surgery. The learning curve is steep, but what doesn’t kill ya….yada. They do not want to kill me, offering me time off when D. works from home or when a sitter is contracted to fill in once a week. As days pass and D.

When I was a kid, my family took long trips in the car as our vacations. My father took it seriously and by the time I was 11, he had purchased a small red and white camper that sat on top of one of the very first crew cabs I had ever seen. In that rig, we traveled the US and Canada coast to coast. I shared a big foam mattress with my sisters that extended above the truck’s double cab. It had about 8 inches of headroom, something we considered cozy, not claustrophobic. My par

I leave for Durban, South Africa tomorrow on another adventure with many possibilities.

Elizabeth Saunders and her team are busy preparing the Gathering Memories Exhibition and Silent Auction to support the Alzheimer's Society. They look forward to seeing you at the following venues: The Willis Museum, Basingstoke, RG21 7QD : 30th June – 4th August 2018 Southampton Art Gallery (Foyer) SO14 7LP : 12th August–30th September 2018 Gathering Memories Project in aid of Alzheimers's Society Here is the link to the global Auction Gallery. Artists have donated an orig

About a year ago, Elizabeth Saunders invited me to participate as a guest artist in the Gathering Memories project, a Fundraiser for Alzheimer’s Disease in the UK. My family was personally touched by Alzheimer's Disease, so I was compelled to accept this invitation with gusto and gratitude. While this is a worldwide epidemic, a group of Textile Artists in the UK have launched a serious initiative to raise money for research. The Gathering Memories Website explains: "‘Gatheri

Most of my work involves repurposing...cloth, old threads, rusty metals, plants to dye with, forgotton family linens. I even repurposed this piece...dyed and rusted fabrics, rescued kimono parts, well stitched at the time, and re-stitched in its current incarnation...awaiting its future. At the beginning, I was thinking about feathers - translating my collection of feathers into stitch. So I wrote this for No Serial Number Blog. (please note next page links at bottom of blo

As I surf the tide of a new year and the flow of an online class that motors me to the next shore, I am trying to find the swell of goodness that I can pass along. Every day I wake in a blur of half dream ideas and plans, escorting me into consciousness. I mull the mind-fodder at the cusp of possibility in the daylight. What can I bring fresh and uncorrupted to you? How can I present it with clarity? I will let the wind have its way. I opened a book on Day One of the new

A summary of my experience as the first round of Threads of Meaning: The Gathering comes full circle. Hearts and souls met around the virtual well to dip, drink and share. I traveled miles and have found myself right at home. About beginnings and endings About evaluating, inviting possibility About running with the stitches Daring to make changes Incremental movement Small flourishes Miracles Acceptance Other ways of looking Intersections and connections Patience and persis

My camera is my pen today. We're coasting north my friend and me, the mini van, our horizontal chariot, loaded vertically with art materials and anticipation. I'm savoring glimpses of my past along the road, inscribing the images more deeply into memory. The haze is not a metaphor. The pangs of loss are momentary but crisp as the life I remember walking in these places. We are nearing our next beginning, the open space of un-tread ground and possibility. Breathing the ne

I do my best writing in bed. There is no pen or paper involved. Neither stories of salacious bedroom abandon. I’m in bed, at the precipice of sleep and awake and I’m talking to myself without a sound. My mind is fluid as sap, coasting slowly among inchoate wormholes, cul-de-sacs of thought that spark momentary clarity amid the inky darkness. I find puzzle pieces in some, imagery and perfect metaphors in others. Whether I drift into sleep or awaken too quickly, I could l

I can’t resist the possibilities of a plant for color. Leaves, seeds and petals. They lure the explorer in me to splash around for surprises. This summer I've cultivated hopi sunflowers for their india ink black. The amaranth has grown tall in the garden, embracing its ruby stems and leaves with a blanket of southern heat. In Northern California , roses tempt me , their petticoats aflutter as they climb the garden palisade. Varieties I have no names for, from white to pale