No Words Wednesday

("Borrowed" from Susannah Conway.)

Preparing

Yesterday we drove all the way to Frenchtown for a bike ride along the Delaware. Jim loaded up the bikes, some water, and a few beers in a torrential downpour. And we headed west on a wing and a prayer.

Along the way we stopped at a farm stand and picked up a pint of heirloom tomatoes, then swung by Bobolink Dairy for some homemade cheddar and rosemary bread. By the time we parked and packed up the bikes, the sun was shining. It was still shining 20 miles later. While we ate Al fresco in a shady spot by the river. Strolled through town. And shared a beer before heading back home.

Smile

Why does she drop a nasty old toy in her food dish...then try to eat around it? : )

Sign

Sweet surprise at the U.S. Open.

My Fave Thing

Just one thing? Really? (Journal page created while doing Susannah's JYL course.)

Smell

Other than a great cheeseburger, this may be the only thing I find tough to resist since becoming a vegetarian.

Number

Home.

YES

If you're one of those people who doesn't ask because you're afraid the answer will be "No," you'll be wrong 50 percent of the time. Just one of the inspiring messages in this handy little book.

Sunday Morning

A rare treat...

Hear

A Pisces' lullaby...

Sacred

A few favorite talismans from my "altar."

Midday

Microwaved lunch at my desk. Windowless office. The sound of rain pelting the roof. Who needs to see a picture of THAT?

Something Old

My grandmother's milk pitcher. Once utilitarian, being old has rendered it precious, but useless.

Taste

Banana spice muffins-- a new recipe inflicted on friends during Sunday's brunch to celebrate the newlyweds. (Thanks, Susannah, for listing "taste" twice on your prompt list!)

White

Can't stand the smell of these lilies. But stashed in the goodbye bouquet given to me on my last day of work, they prove that white is not the absence of color.

Looking Down

Jim high above magical West Pond. My favorite secluded spot along one of my favorite NJ trails.

Touch

My cat is not the warm and fuzzy type. So capturing a touchy feely moment proved to be quite the photographic challenge!

Floral

Books

So much for the demise of the physical book! This is just what's stashed in my nightstand...the Kindle is for books I'm too impatient to get from the library.

Stillness

Two interpretations...equally enviable.

Home

Setting off on the next leg of my career journey next week...and this will be my new and improved home base. Thank you, Jim, for the big nudge!

Far Away

This prompt made me realize how few shots like this I ever take...

Play

Our new summer obsession...

Red

Flowers were such an obvious choice, so I poked around for something less ubiquitous.

This collection of Jim's coolers caught my eye. A man can never leave the house with too much cold water...

Taste

Tastes yummy? Just a taste? Tasteful? So many options.

I went with basil from the garden, fresh mozz and Jersey tomato. Never is a caprese better than at the height of the summer...eaten al fresco.

A Selfie

Just the word sets my teeth on edge...but in the spirit of the August Break, here I am.

Skyline

Tree farm on the road to Califon, NJ.

Diagonals

Buttresses jutting from the historic Lake Solitude Dam in High Bridge, NJ. Just one of the surprises we found during Sunday's 20-mile bike trek along the Columbia Trail.

Close Up

The best part of getting so close to the cherry tomatoes: that summer-in-New-Jersey smell.

Love

Captured perfectly by photographer Ashley Bartoletti at my son's wedding last Saturday.

Yellow

What a surprise: a burst of sunshine, smack in the center of a cactus bed!

Circles

Had planned to complete today's circle "assignment" by capturing yesterday's raindrops making concentric rings in puddles.

Failing that, here are those same raindrops today: clinging to the underside of my glass patio table as the sun rises.

August Break

I'm taking the plunge and joining Susannah Conway's August Break group project.

The challenge: a daily blog post about something. Anything.

Thankfully she's provided the assist of daily prompts. And encouragement to keep it simple. Ready, set, go:

BREAKFAST
A day without coffee is like a day without...well, I wouldn't know!

May Flowers

There is always that moment when the gradual change in seasons ceases--and the season definitively arrives.

That moment came today.

As I walked to the mailbox, picking my way through puddles left by a day of heavy showers, the sweet scent of lilacs floated across the damp evening breeze.

Ah. Spring.

Anniversary

It's been a year today Mom, and I miss you.

These are the flowers that were on your kitchen counter the day you died. I always thought they were ordinary, everyday, nothing-special flowers.

They are nothing but special to me now.

What is on Your Nightstand?

My friend Stacey blogs every day.

And every day, when I read her posts, I feel guilty because I’m NOT.

I tell myself (and anyone who asks) that I’m okay with this state of affairs. But honestly—I’m feeling utterly inadequate.

The “experts” say it’s easy to get past the excuses: just pick one of a zillion prompts and write a few sentences. So since I have plenty of other reasons to feel inadequate, I’m stealing one of Stacey’s—which she got from Susannah Conway. I love the concept because our nightstands are a snapshot of where we are in this moment. And in this moment—hey look, I’m blogging!

What's on My Nightstand:

A glass of water (a last-ditch effort to compensate for not drinking enough during the day.)

Neosporin Overnight lip balm (my mom said it was the only thing that kept her lips from being perennially chapped—and she was right.)

A lavender candle (no, this calming scent does not soothe me into uninterrupted sleep—but I love the idea that it might.)

A quartz crystal (see above.)

Book Club book (What I read because I have to, not because I want to—although this month it’s The Chaperone and I’m actually enjoying it.)

Book I want to read (Pam Houston, because good laughs are in short supply these days.)

Love

I used to hate Valentine's Day.

But that was when I was young and foolish and thought love was about roses and chocolates and declarations.

When I thought love was about deception and heartache and never enough.

How liberating it is to understand that the degree to which we feel loved is the mirror image of how much we love ourselves.

Today I celebrate all that I love. And the love I'm blessed to receive.

Snow

The first real snowstorm of the year conjures memories that I think are mine alone.

And they're not.

The smell of wet wool and hot chocolate...frozen cheeks and and ice-crusted mittens...mummy-like snowsuits, hand-me-down sleds, too-big rubber boots packed with slush, caves dug into mountainous drifts...turns out these experiences were shared by countless others.

How disappointing to know my childhood wasn't so unique.

How reassuring to know this: my mom wasn't the only mom who warmed you up with Campbell's tomato soup, made you put on your still-soggy mittens, and sent you back outside to play until you lost all feeling in your extremities!

Labels

My November 2011 journal pages.

My sister Deborah and I have always been close. Just never as close as we are now.

We grew up in a family that assigned labels to each child—as many families do. I was the artist; she was the poet. And that, of course, was that.

Except that it wasn’t. In secret, I wrote and she made art. And we (secretly) resented the labels that boxed us in. Labels that ultimately stamped our passports to our futures: college and job choices, creative pursuits. Labels that drove a wedge between us—and drove us to bury our treasures beneath fear and anger.

With time, pain, and growing up, we chipped away at the boundaries. Our art and writing blossomed, and so did our willingness to share and support each other’s process. The day came when, at Deborah’s suggestion, we began a collaborative visual journal project. Each month we filled two pages with art and writing, then exchanged the journals by mail (she’s in Maryland, I’m in New Jersey.)

It’s difficult to express what this collaboration has meant to me. How it has impacted my creative journey and our relationship as sisters.

Perhaps all that needs to be said is that it’s been going on for almost two years and neither of us has missed a month.

Or that many of my journal entries reflect hers and vise versa. Sometimes they even share common creative elements, as if guided by some magical virtual muse.   

Or maybe this: we’re sending off a proposal to a women’s writing retreat to broaden and deepen our collaboration—and collapse the distance between us—as artists-in-residence.

Then again--maybe there's no need to put a label on it.

My April 2012 entry.

Deborah's Pocket Travel Book.

Page 1 of my Hurricane Sandy journal entry.

Page 2.

Me...June 2012.

Deborah's Writing Through the Blues, which was chosen as the cover art for Keeping Time: 150 Years of Journal Writing. Below are a few of her journal pages.