Local Strawberries from the Farmer’s Daughter, Dappled Sunlight. Phoenixville.
Pond Scum at the Vernal Pools, Honeysuckle Blossoms, Woodpecker Feathers. Black Rock Sanctuary, Phoenixville.
Last week, I went for a stroll, guided by the landscape architect who created it, through Black Rock Sanctuary. Orginally used as dumping grounds for the coal silt pulled out of the Schuylkill River, an attempt to clean up the water quality in the early 20th century. The space was cleaned up and designed to be a wetland wildlife sanctuary. It is fabulous and quiet, verdant and lush right now. It was a pleasure to hear all of the planning and thought that went into making Black Rock a natural, living environment.
Beer, Dogwood Tree. Phoenixville.
I learned some good things this past Friday, the 13th of April. My intuition is strong and I probably shouldn’t ignore it. This is hard for me, because I still can’t discern between anxiety and intuition a lot of the time; both are uncontrollable emotional reactions to events and occurrences in my life. Listening to that little voice that says something is wrong is incredibly important. I know it and I feel it and when I listen to it, it keeps me from making some seriously bad decisions that effect my emotional well-being and self-confidence for the worse.
Also, don’t order the special at your favorite local restaurant on Friday the 13th. It’s a surefire way to be disappointed.
2011.01.02. Model 15.91 in Studio 317, with insignia.
In October, I asked my mom if she still happened to have her mother’s sewing machine, an ancient, heavy thing made in 1951. I drug it home with me and carefully hauled it up to my third floor studio. It is a Singer Model 15.91, simple in it’s elegance, decoration and function. It is it’s own piece furniture, it’s heft supported by a blonde wood cabinet. A machine made to last, it hums along with little coaxing. I have simple needs required of my sewing machines: to stitch forward and to stitch backwards.