Category Archives: creativity

A Little Something Wonderful

I love Susannah Conway’s practice of posting a link list each week, Something For the Weekend.  It’s like a chat with a good friend about the new books coming out and things you’ve seen and heard and want to share.  She doesn’t expound on the links, just points us to a few things that we might want to see.

If you don’t know Susannah check out her blog, she’s got a very calm and unique way of looking at the world – and sharing it with us.  She also has some pretty darned cool classes including Photo Meditations – registration opens February 4th and I have the date marked in my planner 🙂

Photo meditations

Ornaments and Tags


I spent an afternoon this week playing with clay like a child.  It was as fun as I remembered, but this clay didn’t smell of earth, like real clay, or that odd salty, musty smell of Play-dough.  I made baking soda and cornstarch clay which is surprisingly easy and economical to make, smells wonderfully fresh and clean and handles beautifully if you use it the same day as you make it.  I found that storing it over night resulted in a crumbly mess.

I will share my process and recipe, but be sure to check out some of the pins and posts that inspired me to make these ornaments and gift tags, there’s so much you can do with this clay.

This photo from first piqued my interest in baking soda cornstarch clay.  This one adds some sparkle to the dough, but the clay has a slight glimmer without adding anything additional.  I love the use of pine sprigs to press into the clay here.  I only used stamps on mine, but want to go back and use rosemary and other botanicals when I make more.  Laura at did some nice things with ribbons on hers.

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I used the recipe of:
2 cups baking soda
1 cup cornstarch
3/4 cup water

Mix the cornstarch and baking soda then stir in the water.  The water will remain on the top of the dry ingredients and will take a bit of time and stirring to combine and ensure mixture is smooth with no clumps.  Cook over medium heat stirring constantly.  The dough will start to stiffen up and clump quite suddenly.  Stir quickly to avoid scorching until the mixture resembles lumpy mashed potatoes.  Turn the dough out into a bowl and cover with a cool, damp cloth until it’s easy to handle.  Turn out onto counter dusted with cornstarch and kneed four or five times.

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Roll out to1/4 inch thick.  Stamp using your choice of colored inks and stamps or press articles into the clay to make patterns.  Cut out with sharp cookie or biscuit cutters or with a knife.  I learned from experience that using a glass or other cutter with a thick or dull edge makes for messy results.


You can allow the cut ornaments to air dry or place in the oven at 200 for an hour or so depending on the thickness of your items.  A hotter oven or extended baking times will cause the clay to brown.

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After my initial cuts I re-rolled the dough which resulted in a nice marbled effect.

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These ornaments were made with the re-rolled/marbled clay.

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Once dry the ornaments feel like porcelain or Jasperware.  Seal with a spray sealant if you prefer a smoother finish.  I can’t speak yet for how long the ornaments or tags will last without being sealed, but will be watching over the next few seasons.

This is definitely a medium I intend to experiment with more.

A Couple of Holiday Creations

IMG_2504-001I love staying home for vacation (although though the term “staycation” grates on my nerves for some reason) because it allows me a chance to nest, to reconnect with my home and spend some extended time in a creative mindset verses trying to cram all of my creativity into the hours after work or on the weekends.

I cooked a lot this week.  Beyond the holiday fare I made food that takes longer than an hour after work to put together.  That alone is incredibly fulfilling creatively.

I started a writing project that is still in its infancy.

And I made some things with my hands.  First, an Advent Calendar to hang on the mantel above the fire.  Each day we will add that day’s date until the calendar is full on December 25th.

Awaiting December One

Awaiting December One

I kept to a very limited pallet which not only goes well in my home, but is neutral and could work with many decors.  Until the start of Advent we have a black grosgrain ribbon stretched across the fireplace below the mantel with a basket of date tags sitting in wait, each with a tiny brown clothes pin to clip it to the ribbon.

Each date tag is slightly unique.  I stamped the dates on Kraft and manila tags, brown and white doilies, and a couple of custom shapes I had in my stash.

IMG_2587I embellishedIMG_2586 with punched snowflakes in red, white and brown and some stamped images. On just a few I used red sealing wax and and a seal and on others paper butterflies made from book pages  and custom paper

The final tag, for Christmas Day is an envelope.  I won’t be home for Christmas.  I will be off in New Hampshire with my middle child and the two who will be home in Denver can open the envelope for a surprise.  Even adult children deserve unexpected surprises on Christmas.


I will share more tomorrow.  Happy holidays!

Collaging a story – Jenny Crusie’s Latest

I have tried the collage method to get a story to gel, but I have never broken out the construction tools or built anything like Jenny Crusie’s creation for her current WIP.  

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This is amazing and I cannot wait to see what she does with the frame.

Take a look at some of her collages and visual planning for past books.  Some days I really want to be her when I grow up.crusie 3 crusie 4
Do you have a process for getting a story or project to gel as you are writing?

Hibernation (a poem two ways and a poll)


(Image courtesy of Michael Sullivan – check out his post on editing here)

I have a love/hate relationship with editing (please tell me I am not the only one!).  Sometimes I feel that I am invested in every single word I wrote like I gave birth to it. As a result I hang on to words and entire scenes that should have been relegated to the virtual recycle bin in the sky.

But sometimes I really feel that all of the words, the detail, matters.  Not in a Dickensian getting-paid-by-the-word kind of way but in a rounding out the story, the poem, the message that I am trying to capture and share kind of way.

And so, I would like to ask a favor of you.  Please read the two following versions of a poem from my recent feral writing class (they are short, I promise) and just indicate in the poll below whether you prefer version one (longer) or version two (minimalist).  Which speaks to you or resonates?  If you would be willing to leave specific notes on why you prefer one over the other I would be eternally grateful, but if you only have a second please click on the one question poll – and thank you!

Hibernation (Version One – Long)
Fall is in the air.
Walks through the park
Crunching leaves beneath our feet,
Pumpkin-spice lattes
And bonfires
Will give way
To hearty soups,
Strong black tea,
Wool sweaters,
An extra down comforter
Heavy on the bed.
Coming soon
Snowbound afternoons
Reading away the hours
Or the days.
Rich colors
And textures of
Cashmere, flannel
And velvet.
Night falling early
With long, fire-lit
To write
Or linger with each other
Long touches,
Unhurried kisses
In the long dark
Of our hibernation

Hibernation (Version Two – Minimalist)
Fall is in the air.
Hearty soups,
Strong black tea,
Wool sweaters,
An extra down comforter
Heavy on the bed.
To write
Or linger with touches,
Unhurried kisses
In the long dark
Of our hibernation

Poem: The Neighbors

The neighbors

It was hard to learn again
To trust the neighbors
She spent the war years
Walking softly
Being quiet
Smiling, but not often
Meeting the neighbors’ eyes

She still cleans the room
Every week,
Dusting the small shelf
With the books
Of poetry
And the vase
She tried to keep full of flowers
In the summertime.
Sweeping the floor,
Keeping the bed linens fresh;
Although no one has slept
Behind this hidden door
In seventy years.

She remembers the stories
Shared in the dark
Evenings during the blackout
About Mme. Broussard
And how she whispered to her brother
In the gendarme
About the people in the neighborhood
That she didn’t like
And no one saw those neighbors again.
And M. Cloet, the school teacher
Who would ask his students
To tell him what their parents spoke
About the Vichy government
At home.

It was hard to learn again
To trust the neighbors
She spent the war years
Walking softly
Being quiet
Smiling, but not often
Meeting the neighbors’ eyes.


Sitting sentry in the hallway
Rough with wear and dirt
Symbol of her father’s strength
But sometimes
They frightened her
Dark and waiting
Full of his essence
Resting by the door.
In his dark times
There were no smiles
Or stories
No great booming voice.
He would sit alone
In the dark and quiet.
Then she would tip-toe
Quickly past
Not wanting to wake
The darkness
That seemed to linger
In her daddy’s boots

My grandfather died well after I was an adult.  My memories of him are of warm, rough hugs against wool work shirts, the scent of hand rolled cigarettes, strong fingers grasping ours, or our shoulders, always working with his hands on wooden bowls, or stone jewelry.  He was a warm, loving man and just thinking of him fills my heart.  But like many of us he had dark times.  When my mother was a small child she remembers running past her father’s boots sitting by his chair.  She was afraid of them, but only when they were off and waiting.  On him, they were just a part of Daddy.



I find solace and
Infinite quiet joy
In the liturgy
Blessed be God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit
The ancient words,
The rhythm
As much my worship
As the words
The ritual
Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open,
all desires known,
and from whom no secrets are hid
I fall to my knees
Bow my head
Talk to The One I believe
With all my being
Created this earth
We believe in the Holy Spirit,
The Lord, the giver of life
In the morning
With lessons and prayers
For unto thee will I pray
My voice shalt thou hear in the morning
Oh Lord in the morning will I address my prayers
Unto thee and look up!
And in the evening
With hymns
I love you Lord
And I lift my voice
To worship you
O my soul, rejoice!
I find my way

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake. Amen.



Very rough draft…

The page pulls at me
As I work
And cook
And plan for tomorrow
I read a chapter in the business book or the biography
All the while the other page calls to me
I know that when I pick up the book
And settle in
Turning pages, skimming words
To find the place where I left off
My world will fade away
And I will be in
Another time
Another country
Another body, mind and soul
Another world entirely
With Magic or dragons or trolls
My skirts will be long
And my thought patterns change
I will be a rancher
Or a debutant
A politician or a teacher
A suffragette
Or a slave
The page calls to me
And I pick up the book
And I am gone