July 12, 2017 § 10 Comments
This is my “coming home” accordion collage book I’ve been working on for a couple years now. I bought the blank book from Daniel Smith art supply store in Seattle. The pages are a sturdy rice paper, accordion bound between two hard canvas covers. Into the home stretch having turned the corner of one side of the pages and onto the other/back side. Stretched out it’s eleven feet long. All cut from magazine words and images, I’m living them as I go…excited to see where they’ll take me next…
To see other WordPress bloggers’ images around the world, click> COLLAGE. xo Pierr
June 29, 2017 § 6 Comments
June 21, 2017 § 10 Comments
from my archives – March 1986, on the Yangtze River, Nanjing China
June 7, 2017 § 13 Comments
Here’s to feeling relaxed and new, breathing fresh air, taking time to hang out. Everything in ORDER.
June 2, 2017 § 4 Comments
The last couple years I lived on Whidbey Island a feral cat found my backyard a nice hunting ground. He (or she) sometimes sat for hours staring in my direction, oddly, I noticed, on days when I’d neglected my writing. Ever since I’ve considered any cat that crosses my path – especially a black one – my muse.
Saturday, JUNE 3, 10:30 am – 4:30 pm we’re writing again. Join me and my good FRIEND.
May 24, 2017 § 2 Comments
Join me for another Virtual WriteAway over the shores of Puget Sound. 10:30 am – 4:30 pm Pacific Time.
Click HERE to read about how these began and for a prompt or two, if you like. Write whatever you please. Bring your pen or keyboard to the view, even if you can only fly by for fifteen minutes or an hour during the six – I’ll be here, cheering you on. I believe everything we bring to and express in our writing has grace, beauty, and power, and that everything to do with writing – especially our desire to – rises, shimmering EVANESCENT.
May 18, 2017 § 18 Comments
My mother gave me this thimble on my 16th birthday, 1968. A little note folded in the lid of its hinged leather box reads, “This solid gold thimble belonged to Annie’s [my maternal grandmother’s] most precious Aunt May: Mary Corinthia Harwood.”
She must have had tiny hands. Her thimble only fits my baby finger. I wish I’d known her. Maybe that’s why I love handwork so much, sitting for hours making teensie stitches. It feels like Great Aunt May sits beside me.
Rich are we in family and world Heritage