The Littlest Birds Sing the Prettiest Songs

I saw a flock of little brown birds today. There were hundreds them: flying, gliding, flapping, swirling, chirping, landing. The rose up in a choreographed flight from the bank in front of me, and then landed in two small fields separated by a road. I heard hundreds of birds peeping at once; hundreds and hundreds of wings beating the air as I walked a little closer and they took off, again in unison, swooping through an intricate pattern. When they flew, it was a graceful dance, each bird flapping in rhythm and then all at once skimming on unseen air currents, all at the same time. Flap-flap-flap-flap-gliiiiiiiiiiiiiide.

The group of birds in the field nearest me joined the group across the road, and then little batches of birds came flying in, trailing the larger mass that had arrived a minute or two earlier. Here were another ten; a dozen; three; solo birds in between these little groupings. All flying to catch up with the others.

And then from behind them all, a lone, larger bird, probably a hawk. I wondered if it was preying on the smaller birds (do hawks eat birds?); if this was the reason they seemed so unified and slightly agitated. (Or is that just the way of birds?) I heard the hawk let out a solitary squawk (although I think I imagined it), and then it banked right, flying high above and away from me and the birds.

I watched the hawk sail into the distance, strong, confident, fearless. The flock of small birds on the ground flapped and hopped, talking to each other, crowded close together.

And I could not decide which I'd rather be.

Two of my faves: Kelly Rae and Suzi Blu

Continuing yesterday's art theme, today I'd like to introduce you to two mixed media artists that have caught my eye and tickled my fancy. These women inspire me to keep trying my hand at art, even if I feel silly or stupid or completely lost about what I'm doing.

begin today, kelly rae roberts

The first is Kelly Rae Roberts, whom I discovered via the ever-enlightening Jen Lemen when she did an interview with her back in May. (Go read it to find out how Kelly Rae transitioned from being a medical social worker to a working artist.) Then visit Kelly Rae's website, her blog, and most fantastically, her etsy boutique to browse and buy prints (or originals!) of her work. Her art is both soothing and empowering, at once joyous and melancholy. I haven't bought any of her pieces yet because I can't make up my mind which ones I want! But I must stop delaying because some of my favorites have been sold out. So if you see something that you fall in love with, snap it up! (But not before I do...)

Walking with Stars, by Suzi Blu

I stumbled upon the second artist just a few days ago. I think I found a link from another blog, but I'm sad to say that I forget which one. As her website states, Suzi Blu "is a mixed media artist who documents her life through vlogs on youtube and sells artwork on eBay." Her YouTube channel, Suzi Blu Tube, features shorter versions of the videos found on her site. Her videos combine art tutorials with fun inspirational messages that make you want to run out and be an artist, both on the page and in your daily life. Suzi Blu sells her original work on eBay and sells some prints in a CafePress shop. (I like the wall clock.) Of course, she also has a blog. Oh, and a cat named Pooh, which is a good reason to like her, I think.

What artists are inspiring you?

Small is Beautiful

See that new button on the side of the page? Isn't it lovely? In a land where bigger is constantly touted as better, and size matters most in everything from McMansions to McMeals, it's nice to remember that small can be beautiful. And I'm not talking about in a good-things-come-in-small-packages-diamonds-are-forever kind of way. (Although good things often do come in small packages. But diamonds, while hearty, are not indestructible. But I digress...)

Inspired by their session at BlogHer '07, Rachelle Mee-Chapman (a.k.a. Magpie Girl) and Jen Lemen are reminding us that blogs (and other endeavors) don't have to be big to be beautiful. Behold the Small is Beautiful Manifesto:

• We believe stories are valuable, no matter how many people read them.
• We believe following your passion is more important that watching your site meter.
• We believe in the handmade, the first try, the small start, and the good effort.
• We believe that small is beautiful.

Find out who else is part of this little neighborhood, consider moving in yourself, and check out the Rachelle's Small is Beautiful Saturdays.

Waking up to the light

My favorite thing from Friday's walk: Fire hydrant with pebble jewelry
(All photos in this post taken with my groovy LG enV cell phone.)

I always wake up to summer too late. More than any other season, summer passes me by. I see it coming as spring days grow longer and warmer. I try to take in the leafy green trees, the flowers, the sunshine, the fresh fruits and veggies, the outdoor concerts, the lemonade and iced tea. But the hot days of June, July, and August are mostly a haze of extremes: sweltering in the humidity or feeling cut-off from the real world in climate-controlled (but blissfully unsticky) buildings.

When the end of August rolls around, I abruptly realize that summer is nearly over. Autumn is my favorite season, the time of year I look forward to most, so I don't really mourn summer's end. Still, as September arrives, I suddenly feel greedy for warm, fresh air and the feel of sun on skin. And the shorter days throw off whatever vague sense of time I have. I never stop being shocked when the sunlight fades before 9:00pm. All winter long the little window of daytime baffles me.

I walked out to the mailbox on Thursday in a tank top that exposes much more skin than I usually show in public. It was late in the day, but the air was still hot, and a warm breeze wafted over my shoulders. In that moment, I felt like I'd been absent from summer all season, absent from my own body for years, absent from such corporeal pleasures for a lifetime.

As this summer fades, something inside of my body is waking up. I needed a haircut a month ago, but have a sudden resolve to let my hair grow long for the first time in 13 years, even though I know that shorter hair works better and is easier for me. Logic and reason (and my hairstylist) tell me to stick with what works, to keep my fun, flippy style. But I yearn for the feeling of my own hair on my neck. I want to draw up my locks in my hands, tie a loose ponytail or let them fall through my fingers. I want to flick my hair over my face or over my shoulder and flirt with my husband.

Why this sudden need for flowy femininity?

I have a tan right now for the first time in at least five -- possibly 10 -- years, mostly by accident. Even though I'm naturally very pale, I used to turn such a lovely golden color in the summer. But many factors drove me inside over the years: fear of skin cancer; an irrational and growing fear of bugs that buzz and sting; no longer having a swimming pool; working in offices; weight gain that makes it embarrassing and uncomfortable to be out in the heat.

But a few weeks ago I forgot to wear sunscreen to the garden center and ended up with a slight burn that faded to a light tan. I know it's not the best skin care regimen, but I think the sunlight did me some good. I think it nourished something in me, reminded it to grow, to stretch toward the light.

On this evening's walk

I went for a walk in my neighborhood this evening as part of the September habitude going on over at Magpie Girl. I saw some interesting things close to home, including forsythia blooming in September. What's up with that?

(All photos in this post taken with my groovy LG enV cell phone.)

These flowers seemed confident in their beauty, and better suited to the season:

And I saw my favorite neighborhood dog tonight! The picture isn't very good, but you can just make out her odd proportions. This silly little girl looks exactly like a wiener dog and a lab all smooshed together! Her owner says they got her from a shelter and confirmed the dachshund part. The other half wasn't lab, but I can't remember the breed. Whatever it was, we all hope the sire was a scrappy wiener. (Dog. Wiener dog!) I don't know her name, but I call her a Dachrador or Labshund:

I also saw a Geo Tracker packed full of someone's belongings, and a family playing croquet in their front yard, but I thought I might look suspicious pointing and clicking my cell phone at them.

Want to see my favorite item from my walk? Check out the next post...