This was my view a few
days ago while hanging the laundry.
It takes my breath away every
time I go onto our
in a great mood
because I had set the day aside
to work on a major embroidery project
I'm exploring this
kept getting in the way.
You know how it can be - managing the
compost, changing toilet-paper rolls, drinking water
to stay hydrated on a hot day, cleaning up
after the dog made a mistake...
and, of course, doing
I think I was
able to finish about
half a leaf between each
interruption. By the time I went
out to hang the laundry, I was feeling
really frustrated by how slow my progress was.
I'd been feeling bad about other things too. Like the fact
I hadn't written a blog post for more than a
month and that I hadn't finished
the next playbook
in my series.
But while standing
on the terrace and hearing the
baby birds and seeing a monarch butterfly
head toward the volunteer milkweed in the orchard
we planted, I remembered that not long ago,
none of this was here: no terrace, solar
panels, shrubs or perennials, and
no monarchs or baby birds
learning to sing.
I also remembered
how exciting it was to see
these peonies and iris bloom together
after we had transplanted them that first year
with the terrace garden - that
was 8 years ago.
I have to remind myself
that over time, lots of little actions
accumulate and become something larger
than themselves. A single stone becomes a terrace. A
single flower becomes a garden. A single
stitch in a small leaf becomes a
just have to consciously
remember how things really work,
which is why when I dumped the compost and
took yet another photograph, I remembered the power of
showing up and of big little things. 10 pounds of compost a week
adds up to 500 pounds a year -- a ton over four years.
That's a lot of food diverted from the landfill.
It's also a lot of photographs
So this week
I'm celebrating Big Little
Things. Like the fact that after creating
thousands of Compost Compositions, I finally have
two in a juried show this summer and I'll have a few dozen in
a solo show this fall - - All at AVA Gallery in Lebanon,
NH. Friends told me that if I kept showing
up for my work and for myself,
cool things would happen.
They were right.
the simple climate
action of composting would
lead me to become a photographer?
Who knew that photographing that compost
could lead to learning about embroidery and the craft
of remaking old clothes? Who knew that the
act of remaking old things would
inspire new ways of thinking
and new ways
the Big Little Things
in your day or your week?
Remember: When you show up for
yourself and those you love,
cool things can
Messages for the Future @ AVA Gallery
AVA's 2019 Summer Juried Exhibition
July 12 - August 21
Monday Morning's Activities (not listed above):
Writing & mailing post cards to daughter and mother-in-law;
Emptying the dehumidifier in my basement studio;
Packing up some college supplies for a friend, who happens to be passing through, to take down to DC so that we won't have so much to manage in August when our son goes to college there;
Managing a broken nail that I got while packing those supplies;
Receiving a packet of pachysandra from a neighbor with whom I had just spoken during my morning walk - - She mentioned she had more pachysandra than she needed; I mentioned I could use some. I thought the plan was for me to go over and harvest it. What a gift!
And it all happened between 9am and 1pm.
cotton object that rips
when I touch it. It's
just a t-shirt,
No. It's more.
It contains memories:
My first years of marriage;
Playing squash with my husband;
Being in my 20's and feeling
invincible; It's so much
more than just
near and far, I got
out a needle, some light
purple thread, and got to work.
I want to wear this fragile
cotton shirt again.
I love it. It's
in our throw-away
society, mending matters.
And because it's cool
the art of
also known as Sashiko
When I love
something, I care for it.
When I love someone, I care
for them. Love takes time and patience.
It can be messy and slow and it
is always imperfect. But
it's possible. We just
have to show up
have a sense of humor.
For 26 years, I have only seen
colors, shapes, & an artist's signature.
When I told my husband about this project,
he asked: "Oh, your dancer shirt?"...
"My what? No, the one with
cool colors and
It turns out I had never
actually paid as close attention to
this shirt I love as much as my husband had.
Sometimes I guess we just see what we see. What's
cool is that I didn't feel anything like a
dancer back in the 1990's, but
I definitely do today. It's
now more perfect
to my mother for
teaching me how to sew.
Happy Mother's Day
the light shine!
It's daylight savings time.
And maybe, just maybe, the snow
will melt by April and the
will be above
Green New Deal, Part 2,
I get real about our energy conservation
at home. And since we're talking
about light, I thought I'd
We have lots
of them - 67 in fact -
that are essential sources of
light and stunning ways to frame
views of our garden and Vermont. But
in terms of energy, even our 15
year old double-paned
Over the years,
we have slowly added
insulated and other shades to
help keep the house warm in winter
and cool in summer. Some are even color
coordinated, while others are thin,
cheap roll-ups. We even
have plastic in the
have a hodge-podge.
Of course, my favorites are the
ones I made when first married in 1992 and
the re-used ones from my grandmother's house that
I found in her attic when she died and then
hung in our living room a decade
ago - - just to try
I've been thinking
about the idea of 'window
dressing,' of giving a superficial, but
misleading impression. Most of the 1930's New
Deal murals I studied in college (see last week's blog
post, My Green New Deal, Part 1) were colorful
celebrations of the American Dream,
a dream that for millions of
people at that time
was a broken
I feel surrounded by
broken promises - - The dream
of a house, but no one tells you how much
money it takes to maintain it; The dream of filling the
house with things you need and love, but no advertisement
reveals the true cost and impact of those objects.
So now we have ten years to adapt to
the realities caused by our
Ok. That is way
too heavy and way too
guilt-ridden for my tastes. So
let's go back to light, color, texture
and the glorious convergence of creativity
and climate action. I love this time of year. It's still
cold and inside projects still beckon, like
making the curtains in my studio
warmer by sewing old linen
napkins onto them...
our family's Green New
Deal. We have a decade to make
the rest of our 67 windows as energy efficient
as they can be. To achieve that goal, we will take stock
of what needs to be done, prioritize and make a
plan. For now, though, I will continue to
appreciate this crazy mix of window
'dressings' that continue to
keep us warm and I will
keep noticing the
Happy New Year!
but I decided to embroider
excerpts from Walt Whitman's
poem "This Compost." While he may
have written about dead corpses following
the American Civil War, I re-imagined
his words and considered waste
instead, and the power of
the earth to renew
We have that
same power. Every
January 1st to begin again.
Whitman's is an optimistic poem
reflecting our innate American optimism.
I celebrate this poem not just because
2019 is the 200th anniversary of
Whitman's birth, but also
because his message
is more important
now than ever.
stitches might be uneven
and the text written on an old pillowcase
may be awkward, but seen from afar, the colors
are bright, cheerful and make me want
to smile. Optimism is all I know.
So here we come 2019,
on stitch at a time...
my online climate
'coaching' class and am
petrified. What if no one is
interested or needs what I have
to offer? But I show up,
one week, one stitch
at a time and
know it is
I came home
from Mexico to find
that my anxious dog had
peed all over the sheepskin rug
I stand on to write these blog posts.
Frustrated? You bet. But what's a gal to do?
A few squirts of soap, some aggressive
massaging of the fleece and some
patience while it dried was all
that was needed. This is
what I tell myself.
New Year. New
So here we are.
It's 2019. The UN Climate
Report says we have twelve years.
Our job is to show up, support each other and
get the job done. For me, that involves
persistence and patience and a
whole lot of bravery as
I creatively try new
"Behold this Compost! behold it well!
Celebrated in the UK. For
most people it means a day to hang
out with family, eat leftovers and enjoy gifts
given and received. But historically, it was also a day
to give "Christmas Boxes" to the servants, who would go home
and celebrate Christmas with their own families after
having cared for you on the 25th.
Or, perhaps the
term 'Boxing Day' comes
from the nautical tradition whereby
great sailing ships carried a sealed box of money
for good luck which, upon return, would be given to a priest
who would distribute the money to those in
need on the day after Christmas.
Here in New England,
we get back to work - - there is
no "Bank Holiday" for us. But over the past
decade, I have created my own "Boxing Day" tradition.
Photographs that are labels on Christmas Day, or beautiful holiday cards
become decorations on a box the next. And all that wrapping
paper gets a longer life, glued to a sneaker
box or packing box and used
year after year.
It started with
a desire to save paper and
reduce holiday waste. But over time,
it became something more - - A kind of compulsion
to fix what I had using materials at hand -
not just cards and paper,
but fabric as well.
One year, I redid
our recycling container.
The next, I created boxes to use
for grocery shopping. They were so admired
at our food co-op, I made some as gifts
for the clerks. Apparently one of
the boxes is now the bed
for a very happy cat.
What makes me happiest,
is that my son and daughter love to
find their custom gift boxes under the tree.
No need for labels. And certainly no
need for new wrapping paper.
It's become a tradition - -
own Boxing Day.
To me, that's what makes our
current time so inspiring. There are opportunities
for the creative re-making of the world as we know it.
As I discovered with a bunch of cards, paper
and fabric, beauty is everywhere.
What might you create or
discover this last
The Spruce: What is Boxing Day?
Evelyn R. Swett celebrates
how creativity and climate action converge to inspire joy
and new ways of being.
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