mark this as a place where one spark landed

it is because of alexandra that, i suppose, i actually have a blog.

shortly after meeting her (we have, luckily enough, several mutual

friends- all of them utterly marvelous folk) i found her blog.

shortly after finding her blog i taught an art class and thought it

would be fun to track our projects on blogger (that lasted about

8 weeks; this one has lasted a bit longer). shortly after all of that

i thought a blog about children's books would be a fine idea.

&

now, some years later, i often wander back to alexandra's work and

find, in it and always, the reason her vision lit the spark that led to-

well, led to something else altogether (for me). it is with certainty

that i say that her clear and beautiful eye- and her ability to share

her gifts with the rest of the world- will continue to add light. and

that light grows always brighter, just as good & generous sparks do.

art: alexandra boiger

in the long run

when i hear scott schumann talk about starting out with his camera, or i see grace coddington with her unsurpassed eye and shock of red curls and brilliant determination; when i read p. gaye tapp's posts & see the magnificence that ivan tereschenko shares with us on an almost daily basis...when the original work of michael jakubowski makes me smile, again and again, and hollister hovey and megan wilson and duncan hannah bring forth the world as we might have imagined it once before (were we small and listening at dusk to churchill's voice on the radio -- hoping not to hear, instead, the air-raid siren); when remodelista publishes day after day without fail some of the most glorious environments on earth, and my dear friend sara melling delights the beekman boys with her perfectly gorgeous drawings, and blue writes and says there is little that is truly urgent...i know this is why keeping a blog sustains so many of us.

what better way is there, balancing it with being out in the world, than to reach across and over boundaries that, at one time, might have kept us all apart unknowing and perhaps unseeing? this sort of communication wasn't even vaguely possible when i was a young mom raising three (then four) small (magnificent) human beings. how i would have relished having a voice like this, then: a way to speak to someone on the other side of the world while i kept home fires burning and the young officer we loved (those children and i; their father, my husband) patrolled icy waters in a silent boat that we heard nothing absolutely nothing of and nothing from for three months at a time (& twice a year). yes, i'd have given my eye teeth to stroll with mrs. blandings through her new house, or spend the evening visiting beth and her poetry. these days, i think of that young mom and i am thankful. for all of this, and all of that. for all of you. and, very much so, for that man and the four magnificent human beings with whom we have been able to share our life.

(that this way of communicating reaches over boundaries, it goes so much further than that- doesn't it? it is a way of seeing that we are all connected. far bigger than any single tweet, little blog, quiet facebook post. it- all of this communication, with so many voices that used to be silent (or near-silent)- will lead, i hope, to something mankind has been waiting for. the truth of peace. the realization that all is really just one. in the long run, that's what i continue to hope for. in the short run, i am- again- thankful to share the hope of peace with anyone.)

photo: ivan terestchenko via little augury