closing time

Pretty sure I'm going to close the store at the end of the year. The distance between here and there is too great and I can't be there enough. It was a lark, an escape from grief, and most certainly a labor of love. A lot of labor, a lot of love.

editing to add (since the question is coming up)
I'm planning to keep the Etsy store going and maybe take a space in an antiques cooperative. I may reopen in the Catskills in the future, if I can find a reasonable space in one of the summer towns, for the summer and fall. I'll be writing more about this of course, and will still have a store to write about for a few months. And if you listen to the song and look at the pictures, they are more melancholy than I feel. My feelings are mixed. Yes sad. Yes relieved. Bittersweet is the word of the day.

For weeks I wondered what I would do in this space on this day. It seemed wrong for me to let it pass, unacknowledged, 10 years later, such a long 10 years. We lived in New Jersey in one of those towns so closely touched, and I have my stories, but I don't want this to be about me. Not in that way.

I have, as I mentioned a few posts back, when lamenting about the floods, been thinking about tragedies and traumas recently. Tonight I watched The King's Speech, and at the end, when he gave his speech as World War II began, I got chills. There is so much beauty in the world and and also sadness and evil and grace and kindness. Tragedy is especially horrifying when it is totally unexpected. We expect floods and earthquakes and wars--somewhere in our psyches we are a little bit prepared for them--we've heard of them before, they are terrible but not necessarily shocking in their generalities, but in their details. Flying planes into skyscrapers was shocking. Columbine was shocking. What happened on that island in Norway in July was shocking.

Demie, who is Greek but lives in Norway, posted on her blog yesterday a song I very much like, and here it is:



Today is Sunday, and I will take a walk and reflect and pick flowers and maybe read and bake some cookies. I will tell my children I love them, and I will watch my New York football Giants play the Washington Redskins. And I hope that I remember to do an unexpected kindness for someone.

read to me

Some of my happiest memories as a mother are of reading to my children. I just went through the horrible experience of having to throw out a hefty bag full of picture books that did not survive our basement flood. I carried them from Brooklyn, where the two oldest were born, to New Jersey, where the youngest was born, to Massachusetts where we moved five years ago. The boys are semi-grown now and all great readers, which brings me joy. Those books from their childhood were, for me, talismans, memories, happiness.

But they got soaked and mildewed. And now they are gone. So today I made my first treasury on Etsy. It's called Read to Me. It was a pleasure to create, and looking at it brings  a smile to my face. If you want to take a look, click here.

What are your favorite children's books?

Jen

why I love the catskills, part one

That is the view from my house. 

I have a waterfall in my yard.

There's not much more to say. 

I guess I could tell you that I hate my house.

 But I love the property so much that's okay. 

Houses can be changed.

There's lots of stone too. And ferns and moss and trees

and icicles.

Casey

Casey was a big part of my country weekends. Her favorite thing in the world was water and especially chasing sticks into the brook. She took it very seriously, like a job, poised at the edge of the water waiting for us to throw the stick. She would wait for as long as it took with an intent look on her face. She was an intense dog, an Australian Shepherd with no tail and different colored eyes which you can't see in that picture, sorry. She was my pal and went with me everywhere. She had a rare complication of lyme disease and 2 weeks ago her kidneys failed though she was only six. I miss her.