watching squirrels fight, and deer lead their babies to our apple tree.
I even did the buggers a favor and bowled over a few apples for foraging,
because those baby deer look skinny and mama looks worried.
It's quiet in here, among all the outside distractions.
I'm acutely aware of the silence today.
Tex passed last week, on a Friday evening, right outside on our front porch,
and is buried under the gold of our Birch tree.
It was his time, and many tears were shed in his passing.
But we are back in the swing of things here at the shire,
picking up the pieces from a raw week,
sending JP off to Wyoming for a work stint,
and I am finding my smile again.
The gusts kick up and a smattering of leaves are swept into my studio,
crunchy and dry ones, like tissue paper,
and I've decided to leave them for now.
It's kind of nice to hear them on the floor,
a solid remedy for missing furry paws clacking on the ground.
It's funny how time passes and this hole in my heart is starting to mend.
I was so afraid that the bungalito would be a place of loneliness. And eerie quiet. And sadness.
I cried about it, and mourned the loss of my dearest and sweetest studio shadow.
I'm glad to feel the opposite.
I am giddy with excitement as each idea pops into my head and comes to fruition in silver today,
I am so in love with my craft, and so happy this space is still a magical space.
I miss Tex terribly. I miss the way he would make me walk around him in this tiny space.
I miss his presence.
But I am realizing that the fears I had about him haunting me here,
haunting my work and my mind and that clarity between the two,
are dissipating with every hammer swing.
This is truly a joyful space.
And I am truly happy to have it,
even if it's much quieter than I've ever known it.
And for now,
every passing from the studio to the house,
I can say hello,
can give him a little of my love,
and know I'm not REALLY alone.
I can see his gravesite from the chair of my bench,
and I know he's got his eye on me,
watching the hilarity of me bowling apples to baby deer not ten feet from the door.
I'm planting tulips and spring daffodils today,
right on top of Tex,
in the loose soil patterned with birch leaves in the most awesome yellows and oranges.
I'm planning for the future,
a trip out of town,
and a big adventure on the horizon.
I'm working in fluid motion today,
and feel the muscles of my work strengthen and pull at the skeleton of it all.
I'm working on strength and constance and patterns.
I'm working on deadlines and promises I need to keep.
I'm working, again, after a good week of futtering around, useless,
with cotton balls for a brain.
Today's a day without Tex,
a day where I find myself aware of the extra floor space,
and the swishing of leaves on the floor.
One day at a time,
the Fall takes care of me.
Shooting for a shop update on Friday if I can keep this momentum.. It'll be a smattering of work all over the place, from fused organics, gold, and big ol' stones. Everything reminds me of fall on the bench currently, so this should be a fall-inspired go-round of silver and stone (and like I said, a little GOLD too)