The Backyard

I spent a lot of time outside, today.  The weather was so beautiful that it would have been rather stupid not to do so, since I had the time.  After I got out of work at 3, I took my new camera and went for a walk in the yard, my dog trailing me (or running ahead of me), everywhere.

February 1st and 50 degrees.  There was some wind, but the chill had a nice brisk feel rather than going deep to the bone.  And the earth was moist with the scent of spring, which always tugs at my heart because of the memories attached to that smell.  They say that smell is the sense most attached to memory.

The wind's chill in the chimes

There are fields behind my house that are still used for hay in the summer months, but in the winter they take on a dead feel–there are the bare trees in the distance, and at night you can see the lights of town way off on the horizon.  I like the emptiness there more than I would like to see houses constructed and plopped down like gravestones, littered everywhere.  That’s what has happened on the rest of my road:  fields turned into driveways and huge houses nobody can afford to buy.

The trees stand between two fields

There are also woods that sit next to the field, and that’s where I spent much of my childhood.  There is a  barn that has since been rebuilt; it used to be all peeling red paint and shattered windows, with a door that hung off its hinges.  Now the only sign of what it used to be is the broken glass all around the perimeter and the silo’s foundation that sits empty.  We never owned the barn–the man who sold us our house still owns it and uses it to store lumber.  He also owns the fields behind the house and promises nobody will ever build on it; he would hate to see the last beautiful land on the road be destroyed by construction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then there is the garden.  My parents have worked extremely hard to turn the yard into a place of relaxation.  Though many of the lawn ornaments have been brought inside for the winter, there are still a few scattered in the dead grass.  My favorites are a tiny toad house and a wand that catches the sun.

The toad house

I’ve never seen a toad in that house, but I like to imagine one coming along to find it, one day.  Some people say you become too old to believe in magic, but gardens always make me think about silly “impossibilities” like talking toads and tiny people hiding in the grass.

A crystal wand

 

 

 

 

 

I know I’m very lucky to be able to step into my backyard and see beauty everyday.  Unfortunately, I too often grow bored with the scenery because I don’t look close enough.  Today I made myself look closer and am very happy with what I found.  I think a lot of us forget to look at the world with new eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Blink your eyes, and the world you see next did not exist when you closed them […] the only appropriate state of the mind is surprise. The only appropriate state of the heart is joy. The sky you see now, you have never seen before. The perfect moment is now. Be glad of it.”  -Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time

Some Words Desire Beauty

I love to write.  It doesn’t matter what I’m writing on–it could be on the computer, in a tattered notepad, or carving words onto a stone tablet. (I have never done this, but it would be interesting to try).

The words are most important, not the devices used.  But I know some people who can only write in a journal, or who can’t focus unless they’re using Microsoft Word on the computer.  For myself, I do have preferences depending on what I’m writing.  Certain words, I think, desire beauty as much as we desire to make words beautiful.  This is why writers will spend $30 on an engraved or embossed notebook; it feels right to put the words inside of it, as if they deserve to be in there.  I often feel that way when looking at a certain notebook…but like many writers, I don’t have that kind of money to spend on a nice leather journal.

So one day, I decided to make my own.

"There is a place far, far away."

Decoupaging is an easy, cheap way to turn a $3 journal into a one-of-a-kind piece of art.  All you need are some magazines you’re willing to cut up, some decoupage finish (I use Plaid Royal Coat), a paintbrush, and a simple journal.  Just a composition notebook will do.

Cut the pictures or words out of the magazines and put the finish on the back of each piece to glue them onto the notebook.  I like to lay the pieces out first to decide where I want everything to go, and I do the front and back of the notebook separately:  cover first, back second.  After the pictures are stuck down well, use the paintbrush to put a coat of the finish over the WHOLE thing.  Let that dry, and then do another coat.

"The Evening Globe"

I find that you really only need two coats of finish to make it nice and sturdy.  I remember years ago when I first started making collage journals, I used scotch tape to put over the pictures…my mom was the one who introduced me to decoupage, which is much more beautiful and classy.

These two journals, “There is a Place Far, Far Away” and “The Evening Globe,” are my favorites I have made.  I mainly use them for poetry, as I tend to use my computer for stories and a fake leather (but still pretty) journal for thoughts and ideas.

So if you’re a writer, what do you use most for getting your words out into the world?  And do you use different ways depending on what you’re writing?