As resistant as I am to learning nearly anything about computers/new technology, to be able to create this experience would be absolutely dreamy.
(via: http://www.todayandtomorrow.net/ )
Well mostly I’ve been here in Ohio.
Doing what? The usual summer flurry of Calls For Entry: grants, shows, etc. (yawn).
(while also pondering the next Postcard Collective exchange…)
Preparing for new Adventures in the World of Gainful Employment.
And speaking of adventures;
which has led to some culinary adventuring for Boyfriend and I.
It’s not all doom and gloom, though. Have you heard? It’s summer.
Spring is here!
The 20th has come and gone, and winter is finally over. Between harvesting new spring greens and tending to my indoor seedlings and planning picnics, I’ve just been filled with springtime joy! The fresh scent of jonquils and new leaves is carried on a breeze that is brisk but mellowed with the first warmth of the new season, through my open kitchen window. Outside, baby ducks and rabbits frolic in a bucolic bacchanal of fuzz and fluff and too big eyes.
If you’ve read this blog for more than 5 minutes you know a) that I am in the Midwest and thus b) dripping with sarcasm. The truth is, despite what Martha and Pinterest and the rest of the internet is telling me, the current season is one that isn’t a season at all. It feels like it shouldn’t be winter. The days are longer, there’s a strange and firey ball of light in the sky, Easter candy abounds and yesterday I counted approximately 177 robins in our front yard. It’s definitely not SPRING- there’s a Winter Weather advisory in effect and while a few unwise blubs have started sending up green stuff through the sea of mud, all the tips have been frost burnt.
When I am feeling cheerful, I call this current state of being ‘The Mudglooms.’
Having spent the better part of the week bitching about our lack of spring like it’s my job, I’ve decided to take this transitory state in stride. Sure, every formerly grassy then snowy area has been replaced with mud- Sure, going for a run requires more layers of spandex than I feel comfortable disclosing- Sure, it seems like everyone (including yours truly) has spent the past 5 months perfecting their snarls- At the same time, though, all these gloomy skies and biting winds put one in the perfect mood for tea and rumination but without the utter despair that comes from the deep heart of winter. Having the nearness of spring so close to the current desolation seems almost supernatural. I’ll say this for the Mudglooms- they’re a great time for reading books about villages on moors. And looking at art like this:
Robert Mongomery is right- Winter can’t last forever. Let us savor this liminal state- Three cheers for sunglasses+beanies! A round of hurrahs for the extension of hot cocoa season!
Malleable tar beneath my 9-year old feet. Clouds combing the sky with water droplets after rain dances. Nightfall conversations under Georgia O’Keefe Skies. These are moments that form my summers, my magical memories of the June to September time span under the wings of the sun.
Sometimes we just need those moments that pull us back into who we are, into why we exist. We need the potential joy that sits on the sidelines waiting to leap into life’s game between the 9-5 work schedules, the bills that must be paid, the need tos and have tos of things, to bound in and grasp us.
My siblings, cousins, and I have always had a penchant for performing, for spending hours preparing and throwing shows for our family members… and sometimes just us. The thing is, we’re growing up, and we’ve never stopped. The songs within our souls, the dance rhythm in our feet, the whispering words that find themselves on paper and in greetings runs passionately through our blood. It seems to run through the blood of my boyfriend too.
This July, my boyfriend and I ventured to New Mexico for some family meet and greet and of course, a performance now etched into my memories. A Tangential World, a concert that grew and grew from my boyfriend’s band COJOI, and my brother’s band Post War Germany to include my cousin’s band, my sister-in-love’s brother, and one of my sister’s friends slowly became a reality.
Beneath the city in the sky, the stars flashing down; amidst my grandfather’s paintings and collected tapestries; my mother and her lovely boyfriend’s garage was transformed into a concert venue.
Voices I have heard singing in pre-adolescence now carried the most gorgeous melodies. Songs I have heard pour forth so many times before sounded even more melodramatic and wonderful. It seems that magic is found with collections of people, in shared moments, in smiles that float from one body to another.
With face-paint, tambourine tapping, and the collection of voices from people I love, I found yet another magical night in the prolific singing of my loved ones.Camila Furr Márquez is a wanderlusting nomad currently living in Connecticut. She loves crafting, social justice, folk art, and traveling. Check out her blog at www.owlwingediccarus.blogspot.com or follow her on twitter @ZiaCamila.