Sunday, November 13, 2011


Haven't felt much like writing the last week or so. Yes, I've been busy but it's been more than that. Just haven't thought of anything to ponder or muse about besides the delineation of my days and no interest in writing about that again. I haven't been reading or commenting much on other blogs lately either.

I see the little yellow rumped warblers that arrived last week as they crowd into the birdbath and chitter and tweet in the trees.

Working late yesterday in the shop, my back to the open doors, intent on arranging the pieces on the kiln shelf, a faint call brought me out of my concentration.

Is that geese? I turn around and see the tail end of what had been a brilliant sunset. I move out to the open lot between me and my neighbor and look up in the darkening sky. Yes, there they are, two Vs of geese arrowing to the south, their calls drifting back to me on the wind.

My life seems so easy and mundane compared to some of the people whose blogs I read. Some are facing mortality, perhaps imminently; some struggle with depression, knowing intellectually their lives are good and yet are unable to open themselves to it; some have been turned upside down by unexpected divorce or repeatedly fight to keep an abuser out of their lives; some endure constant physical pain, some face grief every day at the sudden unexpected passing of a loved one and yet none of these people have sunk into a morass of self-pity. Their voices are bright and full of love and the beauty of life and humor. They inspire me and put to shame my puny complaints.

It's late and we are having salad for dinner. I gather up my flashlight and a bowl of water with ice floating in it and carry it out to the small garden, plucking lettuce and spinach leaves by torchlight. I noticed earlier in the day that the pole beans are starting to bloom.

My biggest complaint is no cash in this poor economy, my greatest challenge in these drought days is keeping the garden watered.

I haven't seen the majestic red shouldered hawk lately and wonder if it has moved on to a new territory.

My days are filled with making, working on one project or another...small not so arty things, small very arty things, some larger arty things, some small arty things that will become larger arty things; thinking, pondering, wondering what I am going to do with all these arty things when they are done. That bothers me less than it should I suppose because these arty things are my income. An opportunity to show and tell and sell is coming up the first weekend of December at the open house and studio sale at my friends the glassblowers which they host every year and so that is my most immediate goal.

Green is fading from the world, green fading into yellow, spring in reverse. The dormant fields are beginning their long sleep, the trees drawing their energy in to keep.


  1. it is okay to feel uninspired now and again. and even melancholy as the seasons change and time slips away too quickly. but don't make it a habit, okay? we'd miss you. :)

  2. What a great lyrical post Ellen. You've said a lot here for someone who has not been inclined to write lately. :)

    I've been waiting for the geese, but there have been none I've seen so far. And, you are farther south than I am. Remember "Sometimes a Great Notion"?

    Good luck at the show with the glass blowers!

  3. No complaint is too small [puny] when it comes from a friend you care for. Truly.

    I know that you are a "glass half full" kind of gal - which I really like, and I suspect a good reason why we are friends. No matter the day or the circumstance, you never fail to bring a smile or an inspiration.

    Like TWG said - we all have our days, but we manage more good than bad and for that I know we are all thankful. Hey - the sun comes up every morning. To me, that's a good thing. :wink:

    Hugs my friend.

  4. How can you possibly focus on work with that beautiful evening sky beckoning you? Please tell me some form of it, in some essence, will end up in a future glass piece.

  5. I am eating salad from the garden tonight too.
    And that is enough. I swear.

  6. Lovely reflective post, what a sky, and you're special write or no write, big or small arty!

  7. November is always a bit of a reflective month for me and I haven't been inspired to write, despite there being loads to say. I haven't posted at all for a couple of weeks!

  8. Wonderful post!! Love the fusion of internal thinking and external doing. Good luck on your show coming up. I just finished two shows and I did pretty good. Won't really pay the bills but we had a nice dinner out! Ha!

  9. I like it.
    There is that emptiness in all of us at some point, but your words are anything but empty. A really nice read.

  10. And what do you call this, Ellen, if not writing?
    Keep on working and producing. When the economy turns, and people will look to embellish and add to their homes, your stuff will be there, ready to be turned into cash.

  11. I don't think I've ever let a little thing like not feeling inspired keep me from writing. Perhaps I should? You, on the other hand always make me think and smile, whether you're inspired or not.

  12. That's what blogging is, telling our friends that maybe today is not so great.

    And then you come out with a stream of consciousness which tells me exactly who you are, and I like you for it.

    I don't mind if you find you have nothing to blog about, if this post is and example of what it means.

    May all your arty works become treasures.

  13. Nice pictures. Still leaves on your trees? Ours faded in to yellow two months ago, and are fallen to the gound now >:)

    Cold As Heaven

  14. I loved reading your thoughts and seeing your photos too. That top one is really something (the Willamette Valley is not one of the best places for pretty sunsets and sunrises--not that I would know about the latter, ha--and made me miss the South), and the bottom one also made me a little homesick for the South. I only know of one water oak here in Eugene, and it will probably never get terribly big. Yet, a great many Southern trees do well here. Our first apartment here was in a place called Magnolia Manor after the Southern Magnolias that surrounded it.

  15. This is a beautiful post, timely since you are feeling grateful for the goodness of your life. Still, my dear, you are allowed to complain about the poor economy and your terrible drought.

    The sunset picture is gorgeous.

  16. You and Seinfeld do Empty/Nothing very well. I hope the open house works out well for you.

  17. Ellen, this is a beautiful post and I very much enjoy the italic inserts... very creative. For someone who thinks she has nothing to say, you have made nothing into art.

  18. for someone who didn't feel like writing you sure composed a lovely one

    thanks for sharing on FB

    hang in there kiddo

  19. "My life seems so easy and mundane compared to some of the people whose blogs I read."

    Me too. Yet, you might see these same people on the street and not have a clue what they're dealing with. I've lost two followers--that I know of--to death, and it appears that two more will soon follow. If you should know of a blogger who really needs support but has a small readership, let me know.

  20. Beautifully written.

    Much success with the show.

  21. Ellen. My. You're anything but empty. Full, full, full to the brim is what this post is. And that last line: gorgeous, poetic.

    Pshaw- talk about arty things! ;)

  22. I like that picture of the sky and clouds.


I opened my big mouth, now it's your turn.