Upon Closer Inspection . . .

I FIND I have a project (coin packet book) but no overall great plan on how to accomplish it. But I'm thinking that since April is National Poetry Month it might be relevant (and enjoyable) to make small poetry books.
I am only two days behind on this project. It's the little finishing touches that kill me and my schedule. These words seemed to pop right off the page at me: "Lucky" and "Love never fails."
I have so many of these saved tea packets, and haven't been able to throw them away because they are such natural "envelopes" for all sorts of precious things.
I got me a date stamp like the big girls (Judy Wise and others) use in their journals.
We had a great Easter egg hunt on Saturday with all the family shoehorned into my brother and sister-in-law's house. It is a good thing we all get along!
I liked the way this shiny paper that lined a paintbrush packet reflected the lady's face onto the other side. An unintended benefit.
One more picture and then I am off to bed. Another busy day tomorrow and finding perfect poems to reflect spring and "green" and other vernal subjects like that. Love, too, of course - femminismo
p.s. I'm going to buy Gulf Sprite's video lesson on making foil paper - without foil. It sounds and looks like great stuff.

Maybe There Really Is Hope!

THE VIOLETS are here and the Lenten roses, too - just in time for Lent, despite the freezing temperatures and the snows of December and February.
It's so difficult to believe that the lifeless bushes and leafless trees will ever be green. It's so difficult to believe things turn around as they most certainly always do. The whole world seems just a little uncertain, a little hollow and a bit empty of color and joy right now.
I never really thought much about the word "hope" - not until this election and everyone echoing that one phrase. But now I must say it truly will be the one thing we will all have to believe in the most. And if something as fragile as a slip of a crocus flower can work its way through our Oregon clay soil, then we should be able to keep our heads up too.
HOPE is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune - without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm. - Emily Dickinson

April is National Poetry Month and in one of the magazines they are promoting April 30 as "Poem in Your Pocket Day," where you carry around a poem to share or exchange with someone else. Cool idea. I know someone who was thinking of writing a poem a day in April. Might be a good thought! I wonder how many poems have been written about "hope"?

There are many good things going on in the back yard. I thought I saw forsythia flowers along the fence. I'll pick a few branches tomorrow and force them to bloom. That yellow will wake up the meanest spirit.

The Disintegration Project is coming along and if I'm not mistaken it looks like an enthusiastic gardener trod on this page. Well, all's fair in the disintegration process.

One more library card is on its way to Nathalie in Missouri. (There's one left to give away.) I hope she enjoys her portion of the story. It will really be mysterious, however, since the other seven parts of it are spread around the globe! What a thrilling thought. Now if they only come back together. Well, we're going to listen to the Battlefield Band tonight. Cheers - femminismo