Lily-of-the -Valley

"The fact is that anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days."

This quote from Flannery O'Connor's Mystery and Manners rang true as I was looking at the Lily-of the-Valley that was spreading across our lawn.  The scent of the flowers takes me back to a childhood memory of Memorial Day in the tiny cemetery on Pit Lane

There were no more than 12 headstones in the cemetery--a few were broken, and 1, or 2 had fallen over--but every Memorial Day someone took care to place flags on those who had served.  As children we preferred walking Pit Lane, because it was a shortcut for home, though it didn't save us much time in late May when we would stop to inhale the fragrance of the Lily-of-the-Valley that grew in abundance around the cemetery.  The carpet of bell-shaped flowers seemed to compensate for the neglected graveyard.  We always knew we could pick a small bouquet in late May and then breathe deeply of the heavenly odor as we made home quickly for a vase.

I planted flowers on the graves of our loved ones this Memorial Day, but next year, maybe it will be bouquets of Lily-of-the-Valley.

Work Progresses

Work is ever so slow on this icon.

My one love was working with the gold-type thread that has a mosaic-like look to it.  It's not real gold thread, but I'm pleased all the same.

I'm thinking of incorporating some beads to outline the halos: red and white, or blue and white.   Time will tell.

I'm diffident about painting the background, so it might instead be embroidering crosses of various sizes and shapes.  I'm inspired by images of the Hill of Crosses in Lithuania.  

I was hoping to sew this as standard, yet that will mean a lot more work around the edges.  Pausing and wincing: just not sure.  There are times when you let your heart and hands guide you, rather than your mind :)

The Sea

An afternoon at the beach and after this past winter, I'm more appreciative than ever to feel the sand between my toes once again.

And oh the thought of having this palm size jelly as a pet--elusive little creatures that have their own secrets about the sea.

And there's always the errant lobster trap that's washed ashore and waiting to be claimed.  Looks as if nature placed it there as an installation piece.

Oh what a tonic to breathe in the salt air and hear the crashing of the waves--winter is suddenly far behind me