from- Swimming with Swans: vignettes of our three year journey between homes
November 2011 (Fountain Hills, AZ)
During my daily walks along local paths in town and in the surrounding desert area, I’ve noticed Saguaro Cacti with large dark brown “bite” patches along their base up to and including places way high above my head. At first I thought perhaps they were indeed, bites from local fauna that somehow didn’t get hurt eating the spiky spines along with the juicy flesh. Think: deer bites on Aspen tree trunks. But it didn’t seem to fit with the height limit of most animals. So, I got to thinking maybe it was some sort of naturally occurring disease that helps to maintain eco-balance such as the Pine Beetles in the Colorado forests.
“Hello, my name is Laura and I am a rusty quilter who’s picking up the needle again.”
Geesh, that sounds kind of illegal. No matter, quilting is and has been a very important part of my life since well, forever. Put another way, when the country was re-discovering quilt-art in the 1960’s and 70’s, I was among those who tried my hand at it…and kept my hand in it ever afterwards.
Basic to those early projects was a deep desire to stay true to my own set of ‘quilt values.’ Specifically: recycling used clothing and jeans into quilts and wearables, both utilitarian and artistic. One of my first quilt-based projects used old jeans pockets as squares to make a lounge pillow for my younger brother.
My future husband, my lover, my BE-ONE…and oh yes, he looks just like James Taylor.
What’s not to like?
Most of our family and friends know the story of how we met. Truncated version: Terry as best friend of my then fiancé convinces said fiancé to dump me and the rest is history. While it certainly was God’s plan for us to be married, it might not have been exactly His way of getting us together.
Over these past years we have celebrated June 17th in various ways. Our first anniversary we did the ‘eat the frozen wedding cake top’ thing in our little square cinder block married student housing house. Living on love in the midst of typical newlywed poverty those first years proved to produce a firm foundation to our new union; along with three children!
Our tenth anniversary we threw a huge backyard party celebrating the fact that we had made it together that long. Sadly, many we knew who married the same year as we did, were no longer together. This was also the year in which we followed the dream and took a leap of faith in starting our own business. Continue reading →
The voice of the didgeridoo was a call from far away, from centuries back. If you pressed your ear to the ground, Mattie thought, this was the tone the earth would make. The music resonated like an ancient god, or what desert winds must have sounded like to the first ears on earth. She closed her eyes again. She felt doomed, and lumpy, fat and old. She tried to recall the women from church, their triumphant wideness, centered and vigorous, and this helped. Ella clung to her like a baby Koala. Mattie nuzzled her, snorfled her neck. The didgeridoo sounded like an enormous animal panting at the end of its life. Mattie looked up and found Daniel standing before her, lifting her daughter into his arms. He held her in front of his chest, his long hands knitted together effortlessly to make a seat in which round, rosy Ella perched, somewhat worried but curious.
‘Want to dance?’ he asked her. ‘I’m probably the only person you know who can dance to the didgeridoo.’ Ella thought this over, tugging on her chin like an alchemist.
Mattie opened her fingers slowly to she could peek in at the little rubber shoe, as if examining a poker hand. Harry and Al were talking, and Daniel still held Ella in his arms, turning in slow circles. Mattie watched, listened, breathed in deep and slow: if the sound of the didgeridoo was a color, it would be rich and earthy, plant purple, like eggplant with light behind it.
*really didn’t like the book, but this quote was worth the read.