Karen's Muse and Musings

The Joy of an Unexpected Gift

Nellie Wortman is an incredible artist. I love how she puts her heart and soul into every piece she creates. It's a treat to visit her blog, Early Morning Thoughts. A few days ago, she wrote and asked for my address, so I knew she was sending me something, but I was in no way prepared for the gorgeous and generous gift I received. First of all, it was beautifully wrapped. Now I wish I had taken a photo of the wrappings, but I was too excited and in a huge hurry to tear inside. Here is what I saw when I opened the box.

It was the sweet and charming Princess in a Box I had just seen on her blog a few days ago. Nellie's photos are better than mine, so you can see more and better views here. Thank you so much, Nellie! You brought such joy into my day.

For me, art has been on the back burner lately. It's not the case of the missing muse, just life gets in the way. However, I did alter a handbag. There's a company called Daily Window Bags, and they make handbags with pockets in the front so you can add your own artwork. They asked me to alter one of their bags for their designer gallery. Here are my 2 designs done on the Very Necessary Mini tote.

The silk scarf tied on the first bag is something I made 2 or 3 years ago using Tim Holtz's techniques with his spray washes and clear embossing powder and stamps.

Time for a New Look

In honor of the recent first anniversary of my Typepad blog, I decided to freshen things up by trying a new look. After completing the "remodeling," I searched for a poem to fit the renewal theme. However, I found this lovely poem by Robert Frost, and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so this is my offering for you today.

The Exposed Nest

You were forever finding some new play.
So when I saw you down on hands and knees
In the meadow, busy with the new-cut hay,
Trying, I thought, to set it up on end,
I went to show you how to make it stay,
If that was your idea, against the breeze,
And, if you asked me, even help pretend
To make it root again and grow afresh.
But ’twas no make-believe with you to-day,
Nor was the grass itself your real concern,

Though I found your hand full of wilted fern,
Steel-bright June-grass, and blackening heads of clover.
’Twas a nest full of young birds on the ground
The cutter-bar had just gone champing over
(Miraculously without tasting flesh)

And left defenseless to the heat and light.
You wanted to restore them to their right
Of something interposed between their sight
And too much world at once—could means be found.
The way the nest-full every time we stirred

Stood up to us as to a mother-bird
Whose coming home has been too long deferred,
Made me ask would the mother-bird return
And care for them in such a change of scene
And might our meddling make her more afraid.

That was a thing we could not wait to learn.
We saw the risk we took in doing good,
But dared not spare to do the best we could
Though harm should come of it; so built the screen
You had begun, and gave them back their shade.

All this to prove we cared. Why is there then
No more to tell? We turned to other things.
I haven’t any memory—have you?—
Of ever coming to the place again
To see if the birds lived the first night through,

And so at last to learn to use their wings.

Robert Frost (1874–1963).  Mountain Interval.  1920.

Boy with Goose

Make up your own story to go with this one.

You can now order prints of my artwork such as this one at Etsy.

 

Goose photographed by my good friend Joanne Thieme Huffman and used with her permission. Thank you, Joanne.