Sunday, September 29, 2013

Secret of Life




It finally feels like fall here in New York City. I got to spend the weekend with small friends and we had to hunt for socks and extra layers before heading out to the playground. Swinging in the breeze it smelled like fall, and on the way home we stopped for warm cocoa and snacked on crunchy apples. This is my favorite time of year. The mysterious puddles in New York begin to disappear, the mosquitoes head South, and I can finally pull my air conditioner from the window and throw all my shorts into storage. For me, this time of year is not bitter sweet. I am an Autumn girl through and through. This is my happy place. Hand me the heavy knits, pass the apple cider, bake me something with pumpkin, and pile the logs onto the fire–I am ready.

The farmers market is bursting with color and boot sightings are taking place on every street corner. It is all I can do to stop people and ask, “Where did you get those!?” Want. Need. Want. These are the days of foggy mornings and crispy leaves. These are the afternoons of long shadows and lantern lit bedrooms. These are the evenings for extra blankets and big coffee mugs. These are the days.

This month has been particularly busy, and I am feeling inspired. I only wish the days got longer and not shorter–more time for painting, more time for reading, more time for calm. I feel like I am lost in a corn maze of work, with no end in sight. Every turning point is another assignment, another task, another challenge. I am hopeful there is a cave for hibernating at the end of this corn maze.

In the meantime:

“This is the real secret of life–to be completely engaged with what you are doing in the here and now. And instead of calling it work, realize it is play.”
–Alan Wilson Watts

This cup is for Caitlin and Eben–Cheers! And to Nathan, welcome to the world! 

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Gathering




Lately, I have been thinking about gathering around the table. Last week I attended a small off Broadway play called The Kitchen Table, starring a dear friend who I also happen to share a kitchen table with. A play by Erin Breznitsky and directed by Tamara Winters, The Kitchen Table was a series of vignettes that told the story of what happens around the kitchen table–those deep conversations that take place, the tough decisions, the laughs, the tears, and the heartache.

I left the theater thinking about the kitchen tables in my life. My childhood kitchen table had a wooden lip along the bottom that stuck out just enough to bruise my knee every time I forgot it was there. I have fond memories of sitting under that table with my yellow lab and looking at everyone’s shoes, tempted to untie all the shoelaces. My childhood kitchen table is where I spread out the glue and the glitter for crafting and creating. It’s the table where stories were written, writers gathered together to talk, parties were hosted. That table is where we had long soup dinners, where I filled out my college applications, where we talked about vacations, current events, shared ideas, laughed, cried, paid bills, threw New Yorker’s, spilled, read, worked, and relaxed. That table was always set with candles–it still is. My grandfather always sits on the far end, and my yellow lab can still be found under it.

My current kitchen table is long, it can accommodate anywhere from 1 to 20 people. It always has a current issue of The New York Times waiting for the morning coffee drinkers. Occasionally it is adorned with small white tea candles or fresh flowers from the farmer’s market. That table has a long history, holds stories long before my time, and has gathered together people from all walks of life, from all over the world.

Someday I want a farm table. I want to feel the grooves and the splinters. I want to gather an array of benches for friends and loved ones. I want to make memories that will last a lifetime. This table will seat over a dozen, with lots of leafs, heavy, and sturdy. This table will be one of a kind; will smell of cedar and pine.

And sometimes I dream about who I would invite to sit at my dream farm table. Here is the list:

Barack &Michelle Obama
Arch Bishop Desmond Tutu
Vera Wang
Dar Williams
Nelson Mandela
Frida Kahlo
Donna Karen
Lyle Lovett
Dali Lama
Jodi Williams
Maya Angelo
Christine Lagarde
Amartya Sen
Mary Oliver
Eleanor Roosevelt
Wangari Maathai
Georgia O’Keefe
Billy Collins
Joan Baez
Nora Ephron

…The list is still growing and I am still dreaming…

This cup is for Mel, who brought a kitchen table to life on stage, and who I am lucky enough to share a real kitchen table with here at home.