Such a Wondrous Place this Faerytale Space

Stay calm and love a nerd...

2012-01-20T04:39:00.000-08:00

I have vast knowledge of my nerdiness. I am o.k. with it. Most heroines are not "normal" and most heros are not either. They are enthusiastic, break-the-mold, plunge-right-in, nerds. I love faerytales! They are rarely understood. They try a bit to help others understand them, but, in the end it is a love me or leave me mentality, I guess.

I relate to Stargirl, I admire Ginny, though I have been likened to Luna Lovegood so often, I should get royalties, hee hee. I would never sit around bemoaning unrequited love. There's too much love out there swirling around. Truly. I know I am not typical. I am a nerd. But, when you see others with stories like mine, characters who are a bit flaky, but, highly intelligent about human nature and who have an enthusiastic love of each day, it makes me realize that there are PLU's around (People Like Us). I like that thought.

I was told, awhile back, that I MUST read Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli! I was told that besides the fact that I don't own a eukele and some other little quirks, I WAS Stargirl. What happened when I read the book and its sequel freaked me out a bit... I eat lemons straight on like a character in the second book, I do seem to think like Stargirl on so many things, etc. etc. etc. Lots of similarities, I am telling you. I wonder, sometimes, what happens. You know why are we the way we are. I just finished reading a long book, pictures galore, btw, yum, on William Morris! Who does this? I do, I guess, and I love it. I read Harold Bloom for fun and think he is so brilliant, terribly cocky, but probably the funniest guy who loves Shakespeare, like I do. I love the idea of colorful painted houses in the snow in Norway or pretending the homes in Amsterdam, above, that one might be mine. I know they are not these colors, but, when I see photographs of these in front of the canal, they take on these joy-filled colors, in my heart. I don't drink, it puts me to sleep, but, my cousin, who must know how much I love all things Dutch, or maybe it was an accident, gave me Chocovine, which is a desert wine from Holland. It has a windmill and tulips on the bottle, sigh. I am a nerd for loving just looking at it. Not sure how to explain. I have tomes of useless knowledge in my brain, and I love it! I guess, as a friend said, we all do. It is what makes us interesting and writes our stories. I am accepting of my quirkiness and my Stargirl-ness.

I hope you go read a fairytale, The Girl with No Hands, is a great one, with a rock-star heroine, and go out and love something with gusto, no holds barred, enjoy this day! That is where I am headed. See you there! Blessings, Amy

"Art washes from the soul the dust of every day life."

2012-01-08T07:45:00.000-08:00

I jump for joy with my little boy, so much to enjoy on colored paths.

I laugh with friends, all beginnings, no ends, tears roll, tears are sewn-up.

I giggle and smile while walking a mile, it makes others wonder and look.

I show-up each day, not missing a thing, now is what I have, so not grown-up.

I love the way people speak with out words, it is so pure.

Can I read too much? Seeing a touch in black ink?

We stay a day, such youth while we play, I couldn't draw a map of all that I think.

I have never loved only a little, when one does, it looks horrid and brittle

and crumbles in the slightest breeze.

I walk with the wind and nothing that is me blows away.

We are all works of art when we write from the heart.

You have an amazing brain!

2011-12-29T16:23:00.000-08:00

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How do we decode? I know that body language is decodable. Facial expressions tell me so much. Actions speak louder than words. I hope your days are full of the realization that you are amazing! Blessings, Amy

Joy to the World!!!!

2011-12-25T09:00:00.000-08:00

Give your love away, give it all away!!! Make sure you hold onto nothing so that it can move freely around all you know! This act is the ultimate gift. I will hold nothing back.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless-- it will change. It will not be broken; it will become worthless and irredeemable." ~C.S. Lewis

Drawings by Amy Sperry Faldet

I write my future...

2011-12-14T12:45:00.000-08:00

"We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear." ~Martin Luther King Jr.

I love writing. I doodle and put my heart on the pages of my journal. It is a risk to put your thoughts on paper. They are never negative, it is not that, at all. It is just feeling. It is a risk to feel.

Heart on my sleeve.

Can you conceive?

Nicks, cuts, when you believe.

It is worth it to be soft, to be real.

Fears nick my heart.

Cold slices.

But,

I am real and sweet.

I love being in the middle

iris,

heart

exposed

where I can see, where I am seen.

Centered heart, written on my sleeve.

Kindness and courage heal all my nicks.

I love everyday.

I am off to journal and be my beautiful story.

"And above all watch with glittering eyes..."

2011-12-08T14:17:00.000-08:00

I have such a head cold... walking around in my watery clothes... aqua makes me feel softer, so I sometimes where aqua pj's. The color of the words, above. I am such a nerd. I listen to music and swim away. I see a bridge of light and sweet times. I am dreaming a stuffy headed dream, but that's o.k. because I am a nerd. I am often seen as odd. It is just who I am. I don't fit in everywhere. When you make me comfortable, I ramble, sometimes. Hugs come easy. Nerd. Much isn't understood. I saw a quote once about being a nerd... a definition of sorts... It said nerds are those who get excited, passionate about things... that is me. Yes, that is me.

Look at this picture, below, it is amazing to see sunsets, sunrises, blueskies, and bittersweet growing in the yard. I am passionate. Geeky. I geek-out all the time.

Maybe being nerdy is just being comfortable, knowing many people make you uncomfortable, that you make people uncomfortable, because you don't fit in the slot they want you to. I am uncomfortable around some people. This is because I can tell they are not comfortable with themselves. They hide behind what they want you to think they are. I am (almost,) all out there. Nerdy. Completely me. You know if I trust you. It shows. I just can be quiet with you. I can gush about something that made me excited to you. I let you hug me. This is rare, if you are male... I don't know.

I know this, though, people like roald dahl, who wrote the quote, above and those who really feel, really see, really taste, hear, and smell, those who are awake, may be misunderstood, nerds, to some, but, I am comfortable with being alive. I know this. If I am not awake, passionate, I am a waste. I will choose to embrace it all. This is part of my faerytale...

I am published, again!!!! I am so humbled and grateful!

2011-11-22T06:43:00.000-08:00

I just received my advanced copy of Somerset Studio Gallery Winter 2012 that will be at Barnes and Nobles soon and my Brothers Grimm art is featured in the Artist Spotlight section! I am so thankful for being part of a gorgeous publication as this! When I thumb through the pages, I am struck with a sense of wonder at all the amazing expression! To see all the glorious creations in their many publications go to...

http://www.stampington.com

What am I thinking of this week of thanks?

Friends and family

Opportunities for kindness, integrity, and growth

Music

Art

Health

All that there is in this abundant world

Faerytales and

Four leaf clovers

Eyes that I could get lost in

The Sweet and the Savory

and carmel and course salt

Knitting by the fireplace

with my childrens' noses buried in books

Butterfly kisses and holding hands

Chocolate and

Bicycle rides at sunset

Journaling and a new black marker

Time to reflect

Lemons

Sauteed mushrooms

Tomatoes and feta cheese

Crullers and Coffee

Cornwall, Amsterdam, Ireland, and Aix en Provence

Books, books, books

Nietzsche, Jefferson, Woolf, O'Keefe, Whitman, W. and M. Kuhn, Conan Doyle, Monet, DaVinci, C. Bronte

The way two people fall into each other, in love, surprised

Laughter and long walks

Creating and quiet

Sharing

Rackham

Poetry

and the wonder that is Blogland

"The fact that I can plant a seed and it becomes a flower...

2011-11-15T06:56:00.000-08:00

...share a bit of knowledge and it becomes another's, smile at someone and receive a smile in return, are to me continual spiritual exercises." ~Leo F. Buscaglia

This is a picture of moss under a microscope. Magical. I have more pictures of miracle Nature on my Pinterest mood board, title... I am a Nature Nerd. Check it out if you like. In the meantime, walk next to people as though they are miracles. See what is underneath and love it all. Walk. Talk. Be Still, too. Always remember it is a miracle to be you.

Photography by Mona Kuhn

http://www.Pinterest.com and search Amy Sperry Faldet for what I have been up to over there.

I am peeking around and I know joy!

2011-11-11T17:41:00.000-08:00

It is how I choose to see things.

I always will.

Some try to shake you to the bottom.

Down where it is dark and not so clean.

I know joy is over the edge.

So I peek.

I tell a friend at work what made me happy today.

I know I seem silly, most of the time.

I know I smile alot.

It is how I choose to see things.

I love peeking over the edge and seeing I am alive.

I build the first fire in the fireplace with the kids.

I order a pizza.

I smile at my friend going to an 11/11/11 party and send her on her way with love!

I giggle at the Gilmore Girls for the millionth time with my daughter.

I see it all.

It is all so real and sweet and whole.

Others don't.

So, sometimes I show them the joys.

Sometimes they stay in the dark.

Sometimes they don't and smile at the wonder of it all, too.

It is up to them.

It is how I choose to see things!

It makes all my senses come alive to peek over the edge at all the light.

I am in love with this day.

Off to sit in front of the fire for the night with a book and my children.

I wish you joy and love and ebulliant moments where someone will just smile at your silliness and not burst the bubble.

I wish you all of this and more.

Remember you are the writer of your own faerytale. Fill it with adventure, light, challenges, sweets, and love, sooo much love.

It is a crisp and beautiful morning and I am dreaming...

2011-11-01T06:25:00.000-07:00

In my world of dreams I fall asleep to the rhythm of the breeze and the windmill in my view. I invite you, today, to visit my dream home, my inspirational finds from pinterest.

Breakfast by candlelight, saying good-bye and thanks to the night.

Good morning, so glad to have your company, let's spend a day of idyll and sweetness.

I spend the morning painting with my muse below, artist, Walt Kuhn, and his cliffs. Simple bliss, almost as good as a kiss.

We talk with such ease and read quietly as we please until we decide we are ready for a light dinner in the light-filled kitchen.

Come into the kitchen and I will serve you my berry pie after asparagus and mushrooms with buttery garlic toast.

We sit in the kitchen with our simple repast.

The glowing walk in a Holland-esque woods has left me ready to settle in to read in bed until my eyes succumb to dreams to come...

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-31T04:05:00.000-07:00

Read a spooky story. Celebrate the macabre, a bit and smile with some sweets, today!

I feel inspired to show you one of my depictions of Poe's The Raven. May you have a spooky holiday!

Each day is so new when surrounded by the likes of you...

2011-10-29T09:07:00.000-07:00

My dear friend, Rena, sent me a message in a bottle. Yes, a message in the post and I received today the whole sweet thing, a message in a bottle. I am reminded of a quote by C.S. Lewis, "Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... it has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that gives value to survival." Everyday, I am surprised by the opportunities to live anew. I am surprised how many things make life more than just survival. I am a firm believer in the senses and the way they deepen and enrich daily life. Every moment is so vibrant. Every cloudy, misty, day is so rich in feeling if you see it that way with a warm tea in hand. Every blue sky and yellow flower is a rich awakening.

I have a few friends that make days surprising, joyous, new. It is not that we are always seeking to outdo that last bit of joy or surprise, believe me, that reeks of falseness and dampens all. No, it is that genuine thought, that caring, that moment of gifting and the revelry of the senses that is what I find with some of the beings I am surrounded by. I spent the week substituting and spending time with those I don't see often and talking on the phone with friends who live far away, and it always remarkable how glorious that is. I think the simple conversations are my favorite. Discussing simple recipes that sound delightful, discussing freshening up the house with paint and wood stain, smells and tastes from trips, losing friends and relatives to cancer all in a week. These things are not what one would normally see as a deepening of the senses. They are the things of life, normal, satisfying, and some tragic, yet, they are just what happens in a week. Making soup, rolling and cutting chard, making smiles, making things new, making plans, it is magic. I find it all so sublime. A Sublime moment is a complete moment. It makes sense. It is sensual. You feel something. You feel something new. It doesn't need to be a life of new, new, new, not that, (take it from the girl who is reading Bramn Stoker's Dracula again for Halloween for the umpteenth time in my life.) It is just that my day, because it is my faerytale, is my day. I will see it as complete, even the hard things; It is sublime. Send a message in a bottle, to yourself, to someone who makes you smile or tells you something useful. It is a gift.

Write it out, see it as a rescue, if you must, see it as whimsy, if you like, just know how precious your thoughts can be.

Innocence

2011-10-28T08:38:00.000-07:00

Waking up I see that everything is okay. Slowing down, I look around, and am so amazed, I think about the little things that make life great. ~lyrics by Avril Lavigne in "Innocence"

I love being with my children. Little Newt above is my darling angel and his eyes are all I need sometimes. Light and love to all of you and may your day be full of innocence and the little things that make life great.

Join us, you are invited, to Vanessa Valencia's Annual Halloween Party at A Fanciful Twist!!!!

2011-10-22T04:27:00.000-07:00

This Halloween party post for Vanessa Valencia's annual gathering in blogland is going in a very different direction than I originally envisioned. I have visions of those fearful to grow, fearful of their wings, trapped by perception, ignoring the spirit that is eternal, growing and the life of all imaginative thought. These visions are the scariest places in my mind right now. Out went the visions of pumpkins and treats, next year, I promise. This year is a growing year, a flying year, a patient year and I celebrate it with you, with dear V who helps us play and imagine and grows all things beautiful and good. Fear lurks and withers when she walks by and this is my party goal, this particular year. So, I swing on my pumpkin swing, and I shall not fear a "bloody" thing! Wishes of a joyous Halloween I send to you all!

"The only thing to fear is fear itself." It was once said... Let your imagination take you for a ride in a pumpkin carriage to find just the kindest things... out of you all things grow magnificent if you believe in your freedom and fly with the spirits.

The scariest place is when you look over your shoulder in doubt...

The world can be scary, embrace that. Make all that you feel into a message that survives for all. All survive when you imagine and create your own ending. Start typing Now! The clickety clack sends the doubts and fears back...

Be free on this night, imagination can flow through any bars that hold you. No one can capture your spirit on Halloween... hold that with you through out the year!

When I dream of Halloween it is full of improbable things, I am afraid of nothing, as though I had wings. A faerytale night, with excitement and some fright. No longer are the spirits locked away. All the souls come out to play. Thanks for this Halloween party Vanessa Valencia! Go visit the other frolicsome sorts at http://www.afancifultwist.typepad.com

My computer will be back soon!!!!

2011-10-19T09:26:00.001-07:00

I am not sure how to express the joy at thinking that I may soon have my laptop back. My mind would look like the pictures above, I suppose, for it would rank with all those favorite things like riding to picnics on bicycles, and soft dresses for curtains and books and books and more books and kisses in the books and perfect calm white rooms to just sit and think in... Yes, that is where my mended computer would stand in my mind. I will see you all again as soon as possible. Such blessings and light I send to you.

My Computer is caput, AGAIN! This time it is a laptop malfunction!

2011-09-27T10:57:00.000-07:00

I am not sure why, but, technology and I need a peace pow-wow because this year has been a doozy! Sorry to be soooo absent! Blessings and wish me luck!

A REALm of my Own...

2011-09-20T06:46:00.000-07:00

This is where I live... don't be surprised... this is my portal called, Imagination. It takes me to a REALm of my Own... a place I create where I am a little girl with moss at my feet, I am radiant with innocence and love. Gypsy babies are my friends and they keep me grounded when I want to fly away. I know all the living things, all the bricks and rocks, all the water ways, work together, to make an place of idyll and creation... cooperation and kindness.

Every street is a street of dreams and hopes.

We adorn what we wear with sweetness and compassion and it shows.

In a realm of my own, Nature would be cherished for the miracle that it is.

In my realm, we all recognize the light we all can create and everything is seen as an expression of love when created with the heart.

Fairies are never trapped for long, they allow containment to glow for others, sometimes, when they are sooo dark.

All in my realm are free to live simply, expect little, yet, appreciate all, and give much, love extravagantly...

wait this realm of which I speak and dream, is here, to all...if we see it.

Rena Askey has art for sale!!!!!

2011-09-13T04:08:00.000-07:00

My dear friend, artist Rena Askey, has one of her published art pieces for sale on etsy in a giclee print!!!!!!!!!!!! She doesn't do this often! So quick go snag-up this lovely piece!!! This adorable witchie was featured in Somerset Studio magazine and can be found here at this link...

http://www.etsy.com/listing/81645742/witchie-poo-water-color-giclee-print-her

Lest we forget...

2011-09-11T05:58:00.000-07:00

May peace come...

I remember.

I have found pinterest... save me...

2011-09-06T09:31:00.000-07:00

Dr. Martens boots... must have to kick my way out of pinterest joy and obsession...

http://www.pinterest.com

I...

2011-09-02T09:03:00.000-07:00

I feel.

I taste grilled fruit with a sugar rub when I close my eyes, sometimes.

I need to be outside every day.

I love.

I read everywhere I can.

I write poetry that I don't share.

I pursue nothing and yet, find so much to cherish.

I work at what I love.

I love ocean waves.

I see me traveling.

I see me not.

Still, it is there.

The wave pursues the place,

Still.

Hold still.

Whisper.

Kiss.

I am bound.

I am unbound.

I am open.

Poetic eye

have you opened

today?

Lay down

and wake.

Lids and Lips

are

meant to be wide-eyed

see

and sigh...

.. ... . .... .

I am barefoot.

I am in heels.

I believe in new.

I believe in old.

"The Pursuit"

I am not a pursuer.

Petals fall in my

path.

Winds blow to

me dreams of

coffee

and

Amsterdam.

I am not a runner-

after-er.

I walk next to

dreams,

all the time,

recognizing them,

when i can.

Poetry and art by Amy Sperry Faldet

Remember no one can leave one's story...

See it for all it is.

I...

2011-09-02T08:38:00.000-07:00

I feel.

I taste grilled fruit with a sugar rub when I close my eyes, sometimes.

I need to be outside everyday.

I love.

I read everywhere I can.

I write poetry that I don't share.

I pursue nothing and yet, find so much to cherish.

I work at what I love.

I love ocean waves.

I see me traveling.

I see me not.

Still, it is there.

The wave pursues the place,

Still.

Hold still.

Whisper.

Kiss.

I am bound.

I am unbound.

I am open.

Poetic

have you

today?

Lay down

and

Lids and Lips

are

meant to be wide-eyed

see...

and

sigh...

.. ... . .... .

I am barefoot.

I am in heels.

I believe in new.

I believe in old.

"The Pursuit"

I am not a pursuer.

Petals fall in my

path.

Winds blow to

me dreams of

coffee

and

Amsterdam.

I am not a runner-

after-er.

I walk next to

dreams,

all the time,

recognizing them,

when i can.

Poetry and art by Amy Sperry Faldet

Remember no one can leave one's story...

How Could They Have Done This So Well?

2011-08-19T15:44:00.000-07:00

I have finally seen the movie, Jane Eyre. I waited to watch it on my porch. I am infinitely glad I did. I must say it was something I will always treasure. The book is my favorite book in the world. My favorite song is Avril Lavigne's "Innocence" and I can hear that and the word, "integrity" whispered with every turn of the page. I was so worried it could never be a film worthy. It was the most bittersweet, fairytale. I am in love.

Home Sweet Home

2011-08-17T17:17:00.000-07:00

I am glad to be home, today. Life resumed with chores and must do's. So glad to put up my feet in my home sweet home. I sometimes wish I never had to leave. But, what a woman carries with her is the ability to carry home within her heart and thus, she will have peace where ever she lands. May you all have that sweet home in your heart filled with light and love. I send that wish to all of you. Blessings from Amy

Painting by Amy Sperry Faldet

Recovering from a little minor surgery yesterday afternoon... nothing serious, just dreams of pickles and bikes...

2011-08-16T08:25:00.000-07:00

I had my first under anesthesia experience yesterday, about 3:40 in the afternoon. My goodness, the man says, you will feel relaxed and the nurse rubbed my arm and that was the last I remember until I woke-up softly dreaming of excellent quartered pickles, you know the type you get with a great sandwich and bicycles. Lovely bicycles. I have to post this strange post. Thought I might not, realized, today, I must. I am bittersweet. It is really the first time I can truly say, I am bittersweet. I feel the colors of bittersweet, too; The Alphonse Mucha colors from above, from the vines, too. After four children, I have had the Adianna surgery. I have ended a cycle, of sorts. I received, yesterday, a Alponse Mucha postcard, like the ones above with cycle perfecta, from one of my best friends, Rena Askey. Another friend, Molly, brought food over and my Mom took me to the surgery and got me home, safe, and tucked-in. I know that I have all that I need. I am glad for the children, I have. I look forward to concentrating on them and not having more. I look forward to taking care of the students I will have in the future. It is a cycle I look forward to. I embrace the one that is ending. I feel fine, enough, today. Achy, a little in body and spirit. But, I embrace that, too. It is weird to wake-up after surgery thinking of joy, bicycles, pickles, and the people in your life. I felt very at peace. I still do. I am the circle of good things. I love what was, is, and what will be. I am glad to be a Mother. I am glad to be all the things that I am and are to be. What will I be? A lover, a dreamer, a thinker, a reader, a traveler, maybe, I hope. I am a cycler in my dreams. I see that.

Windmills and wishes, luck and light...

2011-08-08T16:27:00.000-07:00

I float of late in the light...

Circles of wind send me spinning...

Clover and light, choices that might, make for a joyous breeze. Sweet rain on my cheek, giving answers, I seek, I join the breeze. A faerytale sight, the luck in the night, in can bring me to my knees... How odd it all seems, the real and the dreams, it puts me so at ease...

I feel the strangest things this summer. I feel all windy and blowy, messy and transitional. I have the trinity on my back, a tattoo, for balance and for the ability to move with the storms. I had it done when I was 33. I always knew I would have the trinity somewhere on me someday, for it is my windmill. They must be firmly placed with great foundations and reach to the clouds and light. They have always reminded me of everything I have wanted to be: Tall, sure, useful, beautiful, balanced, with great roots reaching and arms spinning and dancing with the wind. I have felt so blustery this summer, with storms and perceived ill luck. I know these are times to listen to and it is time to quiet the mind to receive messages and find how to flow and spin with positive results. I bent down in the rain tonight and found the largest four leaf clover I have ever found. (See previous posts on my long history and joy at finding these little marvels)

I let the rain land on my cheek and held the clover like a friend with its perfection right before me. "Storms make the deepest roots." I heard somewhere. What is it about the soul and the wind?

"Why will it not?"

2011-08-04T11:27:00.000-07:00

"You love the roses- so do I. I wish

The sky would rain down the roses, as they rain

From off the shaken bush...

...Why will it not?

Then all the valley would be pink and white

And soft to tread on."

"Roses" by George Eliot in The Book of a Thousand Poems

My daughter is teaching me how to draw Manga and this is my first attempt. She is very skilled at it and can show all the emotion possible with very few lines. Sometime I will post hers. She says this is not terribly true to the Manga look, but that I did well for a first effort and I made it more my style than hers, and again, that is o.k. She is the best for saying so. I am so glad to have my little pink and white petal of a daughter. She is sunshine and cream and we are grand friends til the end. I am seeing the last of my pink roses with petals falling and it made me think of this poem and all the different stages of the seasons where pink and white petals fall. I close my eyes and lay under them in my daydreams and the land on my hands and my chest and my toes and I melt into the love of the world waiting for me. This is where I lay my head, today. I am underneath the petals and cool rain of my dreams. Blessings to all of you and thanks for understanding that I can't visit at the moment like I would like to. I am thinking of you.

First attempt at big eyes and Manga by Amy Sperry Faldet.

I love this mixed-up world...

2011-07-30T06:17:00.000-07:00

but, geesh, why can't I go back and edit anymore once a post has been posted... there is a typo down below in my other post, today, (within Hass' poem some of my thoughts are in there... sigh.) I have never had this issue before and can't push the publish button to fix it. It won't budge or save to drafts to publish the other way...)

Technology is at war with my expression this July...

Lemons... are good I tell myself... lemons are my favorite for they make me feel and taste all that is real... I remind myself...

At the end of the week, the end of a hard month, I love a yellow bike and a "faerytale" poem and jumping on to see friends...

2011-07-30T05:06:00.000-07:00

Poem by Robert Hass

"The Yellow Bicycle"

The woman I love is greedy.

But she refuses greed.

She walks so straightly.

When I ask her what she wants,

she says, "A yellow bicycle."

Sun, Sunflower,

Coltsfoot, on the roadside,

a goldfinch, the sign

that says, "Yield" her hair,

cat's eyes, his hunger and a yellow bicycle.

Once, when they had made love in the night

and it was very sweet, they decided they were hungry

so they got up, got dressed, and rode downtown to an all-night donut shop.

Chicano kids lounged outside, a few drunks, and one black man selling dope.

Just at the entrance there was an old woman in a thin floral print dress. She was barefoot. Her face was covered with sores and dry peeling skin.

The sores looked like raisins and her skin was the dry yellow of a parchment lampshade ravaged by light and tossed away.

They thought she must have been hungry and,

coming out again with a white paper bag full of hot rolls, they stopped to offer her one.

She looked at them out of her smile eyes, bewildered and shook her head for a little while and very kindly, said, "No."

What comes to my mind when I am thinking of a bike? I am riding, it is 1917, I am in love and Summer greets me, rising from the warm road while the sunsets in my eyes. It is a yellow blossom thought and I let it stay.

Her song to the yellow bicycle:

The boats on the bay

have nothing on you,

my swan, my sleek one.

I am lemony this summer. I have always loved lemons, eat them like a plum, I like the senses, never numb. I have been wearing lemon essential oil and lavender and it feels right. These yellow bike images remind me of lemon slices and I smile at them like I smile at lovely, old writing paper and sealing wax, I smile at them like a little sour expression on an Arthur Rackham fairy. I love them. The poem above is part of me. From the first time I read it, it became part of my peel, part of my story, the interesting thought I go to when I wish I could ride my bike at night on a July evening when the air is cool with memory of the day's heat reaching my bare toes, sharing. Robert Hass' poem has always been a glimpse into a faerytale moment for me. A love, a night journey, something simple, something profound, characters, character, love. I have not figured out this month of my life... not sure how it all directs my story. That is o.k. I know this. What I miss is the feeling of wind in my hair, riding bikes with a friend, just slow enough to see and fast enough for exhilaration. It is youth. It is love. It is hope. It is journey. A yellow bicycle. I miss it all so.

I finished my second graduate class last night, so sorry to have not written or visited any of you lately with the viruses and my intense, but wildly fun and glorious, course I had to take this week! Hope to catch-up.

Write me at asperryfaldet@gmailcom and may you feel the lemony blessings of all that is sour and bright and so very circular. It is a grand faerytale, this spin, this time around.

The image of the bikes is by Victoria at http://www.asubtlerevelry.com/vintage-bike-favors#comment-53480

Flower and bike drawing by me.

I see in the layers of the things I love, that which can bring tears...

2011-07-23T10:45:00.000-07:00

Petals pink, computers, too, ravaged by thieves, stealing, leaving holes in the fabric of beauty and continuity. I hold onto onions, they are magic, they are miracles, purple and white in concentric bliss. I understand how it all plays out, for those who must take in order to feel that they have something. I do not take.

I am full and yet...

I always find room between the layers for new, for all. I draw what I see between the layers of purple crying onion, pure and good. I see a bicycle. I see all that joy within the layers and it tells of innocence and wheels, cycles and freedom. I draw these bicycles to reiterate that...

"Melancholy is incompatible with bicycling." ~ James E. Starrs

"When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race." ~ H.G. Wells

Photography and drawing by Amy Sperry Faldet

Hello! I am not going to open my faerytalewriter email anymore...

2011-07-18T04:29:00.000-07:00

Things get broken, parts, sometimes cannot be put back together, this is the state of my old computer and the email associated with this blog.

I will try to figure out how to change my default email for this blog to a new one (anyone has tips on that let me know) and let you know what it will be. I have saved my little, shiny, pennies and gotten a new laptop and am writing from it, now. (I am still dreaming of hoeing, as I did so much gardening to earn money last week... fun and yet, with the heat index this week there will have to be a wait on a repeat of that... smile) I can't wait to come see all of you as time permits, for you are on my mind and in my heart. I have decided to spend a moment at a time, live in the now to keep smiling and seeing the blessings, so I plan on having your places be part of some of those "now" moments for you all are so creative and lovely and give me calm and such peace.

Love and creativity, I send to all of you from Amy

Photography above by me.

My Internet caught a bug and I can't get to you!!!!!

2011-07-09T09:16:00.000-07:00

Spooky things happened the eighth of July at my house. I had a phishing incident that crashed my computer, so I am writing from my public library, (bless their very souls those librarians!!!)

I am trying to figure out what to do...

So, know that in between painting my house and hundreds of shutters and gardening like a happy, mad, woman for wonderful friends, taking another graduate course, and juggling four lovely children's needs, I am going to now have to save a computer that I desperately need for my classes, teaching, and life... sigh...

I need some "love letters" in my life (metaphorically speaking)

just feeling a bit pouty.

no just alot pouty.

Notice I refuse to capitalize the first words of those sentences, for I WILL NOT give them much power.

I just wonder about little gliches. These things are not the big things. They are not the things that tear a woman down, no. I just wonder about them. I find it all so odd to see things the way I do, sometimes. I know that I don't have time to work at this moment on the computer, even at home. I know that I am doing the best that I can and filling the rough spots with hugs from lovely children and reading love letters from Georgia O'Keefe to Alfred in My Faraway One, feeling the sunshine smile on me as I weed to make someone smile when they look out from their wheelchair and see color and order. Those things fill in the rough spots. Friends' calls about lots of fluffy bits and the not so easy parts of living and being a woman, these fill moments. I want to teach, to be part of children's lives that find life harder than others and at moments, despair that there will never be a full time job for me in that respect.

I feel pricked at, at times, told scary stories, at times, forgotten, at times.

But, these things are not real... for I choose what is real and what my faerytale says. Others play their roles, are necessary to the plot, add some dynamic (not always understood, but necessary, I suppose) that make me stronger, vibrant, appreciative and alive. I just put in my Ramones' tape in the van and blare to Joey singing, "Too Tough to Die" and all the anthems I loved growing up and smile at the roses that fall from hardship so that they can lay in my Great Grandmother's green candy dish for me to enjoy.

I would not choose despair for anything.

I know what that looks like, been there, done that a long time ago... this time around is my gift to cherish.

"The world is full of people who will go their Whole lives and not actually Live one day. She did not intend on being one of them." ~Leigh Standley

Art and photography above by me, Amy Sperry Faldet, faerytale lover, love letter reader, life cherisher, hugger, passionate lady, yep, that's me.

Goedemorgen, Good Morning, Bon Matin, Buenos dias, God Morgon...

2011-07-01T04:58:00.000-07:00

I believe there is a place for us... Even when the dark sets in... a place for us, the dreamers who wake with joy, who embrace it all and don't hold back when giving love and passion. I am awake. I see.

There is a place for us, for those who would watch a lily yawn until it is open to the day. There is a place for us, for those who choose to smile even when the bowl they wash their face in eachday breaks... There is a place for us, for we who think bikes must be magic and who know leaves can dance. There is a place for us, for those who see the perfection that is a branch, reaching. There is a place for us, we messy sorts... "Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you and sometimes, when you fall you fly."

~Neil Gaiman

I woke up and could not believe I was alive. It felt very faerytale. My dreams had led to some dark castles, not overwhelmingly so, just a bit unnerving. I am just awake in the pictures above and find the wonder of this world to be so much and so good. I am completely in love with each new day. I taste. I see. I feel. I hear. I touch. I think. I create.

All drawings and photography by me.

This faerytale space for me is part of that. I want to always create a place that is full of the senses, but, soft to the touch. I am alive. It is good.

Dear Hatter,

2011-06-25T03:58:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I'm a selfish fake, you are always a true friend. I don't deserve you, cause I'm not there for you. Please forgive me again. I want to be there for you. Someone you can come to. Runs deeper than my bones. I want to be there for you.

Swirling shades of blue, slow dance in your eyes. The sun kisses the earth and I hush my urge to cry. Cry. Cry. Hatter, I want to be there for you. Someone you can come to. Runs deeper than my bones. I want to be there for you. Because I hear the words of your masterpiece, beautiful... Speak the unspeakable phrase, "I love you, too."

I want to be there for you. Someone you can come to. Deeper than my bones. I want to be there for you.

Love runs deeper than my bones and you're beautiful, don't you know?

Love,

Alice

I used the lyrics from Flyleaf's "There For You" to create a feeling that Alice was writing to the Madhatter from the movie version of Alice in Wonderland by Tim Burton's Direction. Thank-you, dearest friend, Vanessa Valencia for hostessing this Mad Tea Party at her site, http://www.afancifultwist.typepad.com/ You are a treasure, dear.

What have I done?! Oh, heavens... Oh, light... What have I done?

2011-06-16T20:01:00.000-07:00

I have fallen in love... with a book, My Faraway One,

a book of letters like none other.

Every page.

Every page... What can I do?

Each letter calls to me to beat in my heart until the soft rhythm lifts my eyes and I smile at the nothing and the everything of it all.

What have I done?! Georgia O'Keefe's letters to Alfred Stieglitz, his letters to her, are filling-up today until, as I stand tonight, barefoot, in the grass, trying to stop my heart from racing and sighing, it feels like maybe the dew tonight didn't exist until this love began. Maybe the tenderness of their budding love in these first 28 pages created all the buds on the trees. Maybe it comes from the same love, that Universal gift, tendrils so rare and yet, stronger than it all.

I want to read every page in one sitting and yet, I want to read one letter a day each day that I am alive over and over, as well. Just dipping into each sweet pause and word, speaking like I tend to, not awkward, just not always understood.

Oh me... what can a girl do? Right before I have to take intense graduate credits next week, right before all the things I must do, I have fallen for a book, an 800+ faerytale book full of the quirkiness that I, too, share, the way I sometimes see, think, love the day; they did, too.

I have fallen in love and just when I have so much to do, so many messes, full days, brimming. I am in a land of pressed flowers and correspon-dance. Brimming and sweet.

My Faraway One, book that I love, how can I stop turning pages of feeling? So real, so true. Your pages? I do not know. A faerytale such as this has rent my heart wide open and I unfurl.

"And if tonight my soul may find her peace in sleep and sink in good oblivion...

2011-06-15T06:03:00.000-07:00

and in the morning wake like a new-opened flower..." ~D.H. Lawrence

In the summer I sleep out on our porch... I dream of it all painted fresh and white flowers and gauzy-curtained...

Dreams come true in time...

For now... I see the miracle of being able to sleep with dew landing in my hair and making it wave so silly and curly, so tausled, when I wake... looking over and seeing my darling daughter's little toes peeking from her blanket across from me... just like I did when my Mom and I slept outside each night we could on our patio... We would set the alarm for school and work so we didn't sleep the morning away dreaming of the stars in our eyes and listening to the birds wake, this was our only hint at normalcy on those days we fell asleep and woke to Nature. I would sleep outside each night I could so that I woke with this freshness that is impossible to describe to any who haven't.

There are days, (I try to make it each day,) when I wake and see the radiant life waiting for me, it is not always easy... never picked-up house, lots of things needing time from me, negative people, contribute to the trials of the spirit, but, just waking to this life can be such a dream come true. I will always try to see it this way. I love to sleep and restore all the priorities. Like the quote from Shakespeare's Macbeth, I see what a gift it is to fall asleep, blinking heavy-lidded as the moon watches over me, peeking through my trees.

"Sleep that knits of the ravelled sleeve of care, the death of each day's life, sore labours bath, balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, chief nourisher in life's feast."

I can't weed it out any further... this is my desk and it shall remain a mess...

2011-06-12T08:11:00.000-07:00

A black lacquered jewelry box, above, sent from my husband while he lived in Korea, art from my dear friend, Monica Zuniga from Mexico, a gingko wool piece made for me by my Mom, green Depression glass that was Great Grandma's...

The Table of Contents for my stories... and one of my published paintings...

My art, my first doll I ever made...

Treasures that inspire me like seed pods that dance like dresses, Kelly Rae Roberts' BE BRAVE faery, an old book and post cards from Italy from my friend, Rena in a tin from my friend, Dan di Paolo's Barn party... My absolute sacred book, Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman anniversary edition and the baby clothes my children came home in from the hospital...

Gifts from so many artist friends, Vanessa Valencia, Anita Rivera, Georgianna Lane, Joanna Rowan Mullane, Molly, Shelley, Rena, endless, endless, gifts, just because artists give all the time... just because... A drawing of mine glued to a box filled with my paints, a quote I love, a black quill from Jean Guidone Wyse and a book I made to sketch in while subbing one day during prep time...

One of my four leaf clovers and some treasures...

The Flaherty's garden plan...

My 12 year old daughter's sketches, she rocks, obviously...

Weeding out the Flaherty's gardens yesterday, I had birdsong and thought, only in my head and prehistoric size thistles, but that is neither here nor there. I realized I thought I needed to weed my art desk. It is something weird to think about clearing out precious things. I pull another weed and in between Blink 182's I Miss You, Down, I'm Lost Without You, Don't Leave Me and All the Small Things on my MP3 player, I see.

I see all of the above.

"The soul is always beautiful... I swear they are all beautiful..." ~Walt Whitman

2011-06-10T06:13:00.000-07:00

"Everyone that sleeps is beautiful... everything in the dim night is beautiful... the sleepers are very beautiful as they lie unclothed, they flow hand in hand over the whole earth from east to west as they lie... a show of the summer softness... a contact of something unseen... an amour of the light and air... O love and summer! you are the dreams and in me..." ~parts from Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

I sleep at The Clearing Art School in the winter, but, I long to sleep in The Clearing's Cliff House some summer day, jutting over the bay, suspended over it all, precarious and solid all at once, hearing the soft whisper roar of the waves. It will happen. The waves tell me already. It will happen.

The Clearing is a school for living with nature, art, writing, hiking, and really anything that gets you closer to you. I am in love with the vision and a memory of a Danish man named Jens Jensen who created this limestone faery village in the woods of Door County for he has brought such beauty and never scarred or harmed. If you would like to learn more about The Clearing you can read my article written for Crescendoh.com for Jenny Doh's campaign, ART SAVES. Just go to my sidebar and click to read the article I wrote for her website. It gives the history and how I feel about this magical, woodland, place.

"...By the evening's amethyst..."

2011-06-08T14:56:00.000-07:00

Things are made better when one looks, for a moment, between the castles, where trees hide the broken things and leaves dance when I tremble from a hole. Holes in things can fill and hugs help. I am blessed to have had a full day. I am reading a biography of Robert Louis Stevenson, called, Robert Louis Stevenson and His World by David Daiches with 99 Illustrations. It has been eye-opening and I keep mine open, in general. On pages 68-69 it tells how William Archer claimed that Stevenson could have never written A Child's Garden of Verses with such light, if he had ever truly had a difficult life. Everyone has a different experience and some of them are disappointing and some are fulfilling, but, in the end, they are real and what is. Stevenson is said to have responded with a way of seeing things that felt like I was reading one of my own journals... he lived this way... he was a "...pragmatist who accepted the universe not because it was the best of all possible worlds, but, because it was the only one he knew and therefore had to be made the best of." I have parents like this, friends like this, therefore, it is the best of all possible worlds, in some ways. I am blessed to see this glimmer. I am blessed to be reminded with little hugs from friend and family. So, in honor of a beautiful time, holes and all, a bit of a poem from the most wondrous year, 1913...

"...This is unborn beauty she now in air floats high and free takes the sun and breaks the blue late with stooping pinion flew raking hedgerow trees and wet her wing in silver streams and set shining foot on temple roof now again she flies aloof coasting mountain clouds and kiss't by the evening's amethyst in wet wood and miry lane still we pant and pound in vain still with leaden foot we chase waning pinion fainting face still with grey hair we stumble on till behold the vision gone where hath fleeting beauty led to the doorway of the dead life is over life was gay we come the primrose way." Robert Louis Stevenson

None of us are perfect; we all make mistakes. That is o.k. because we need not be. The sunset, the primrose, the hugs, are perfect enough for all of us. Not much else need be.

To beet or not to beet, that is the question...

2011-06-05T06:28:00.000-07:00

The Flower Pot Pals from my show a couple years ago in New York's A Perfect World Gallery "Sketch It Out" Exhibit, are peeking at me and asking, "When are you going to plant the beets, the leeks, the peppers, and the tomatoes? When are you going to write our story, while you sit nibbling on chives and dipping them in ranch? I say to them, well, true, the chives are all ready, both from my garden and Mom's, but they just popped-up, they take no work, no time, they just do that and well, I haven't rototilled the garden, or picked up my black Ticonderoga pencil for quite awhile and well, as to beets? Do I try beets, again? Will they behave and not be squishy sour-pusses like before? To beet, or not to beet? To write or not to write? Well, I know the answer to the last question, yes, I will write and lift my black Ticonderoga to plow through the mire and seed the pages of my journals. Yes, to sowing the ideas of stories, but when? I see you Flower Pot Pals, asking when... I see your mischievious, encouraging, ways. Bend time and grow things out of your head, they seem to say. I know... I know... I say. The garden will wait another day, for what is truly another day?

Singing with Scarlett and wishing the house was "Clean!"

2011-06-03T06:27:00.000-07:00

Listening to one of my favorite songs, "Clean," by singer, Scarlett Johannson. Long ago, I saw her act and couldn't believe how much she looked like my character, Blythe Plum, that I draw sometimes. She can sound almost punk on "Yesterday is Here" and so melancholy on "Falling Down." So, instead of folding the hundreds of piles of laundry before I go for coffee with my dear, dear, friend, artist, Rena Askey, I am listening to Scarlett with little one laying on the floor playing the DS. I think I will ask him if I can play it loud enough so I can hear it in the shower while I get "Clean!" (hee hee) I don't do that much, but, when I do, he just rolls his eyes and laughs at his Mama. "Course, Mama!" Which is four-year old speak for "Of course, you lovely, silly, Mama, who twirls and sings badly. But, because you are happy and always play with me and giggle often, I forgive your loud shower song." He is the best! So enjoy go to youtube and plug in "Clean' by Scarlett Johannson and have a sunny, clean, day!

Is it not a miracle, this life, we see?

2011-06-01T09:36:00.000-07:00

Where we can walk amongst things such as these? Each flower part so precious, an idea waiting to emerge. Look deeply at the brilliant mastery and mystery of this columbine for it represents to me all the potential that is a blur waiting to manifest. Nick, the students, and I finished the windmill last night and a vision became whole. I am floating.

How

does it all come Together?

I take a sip of morning...

2011-05-30T06:07:00.000-07:00

to sit in a place where light and good reside. I am my thoughts, yet, why? Are those I meet my thoughts and also, therefore, me?

Thoughts seem to crystallize, like when people meet, time melts them into each other and a sip of morning is all I need to realize something... there are people, when you are around them, "time petals" flow easier, nudge each other gently, seem to caress. Then, there are those that halt it all. I like the softer side of thoughts and I live there, though some around me know not the place. How is it possible that we all have such different thoughts? How do thoughts work? I take another sip of morning to wonder...

Do they float to each other and collide softly, like fingertips not intending to connect, but lingering because the brush of them makes sense? Do they tingle when it all makes sense?

Do they come back, after riding a wave cloud in the mind, different, but ready to recognize each other, again? Why is it so easy for some to connect, feel at ease, create something kind, when they float together? Thoughts are time petals for me. They have their own curls, vibrance, color and they ride on waves of individuality and creation and connectivity all at once. I marvel at them. I marvel at thoughts and sip some morning and marvel at people, as well.

Recipes for Sugared Rose Petals and Bourbon Pralines

Forgive the vagueries but I made these things "off the cuff" because I wanted something sensual and something crystalline...

Take organic rose petals and dip them in a simple sugar solution (just melt down sugar and water in a pan slowly) and lay them on a nonstick pan and sprinkle with course sugar.

Put them in the oven for seven hours at 150 degrees or until the texture is heavenly.

Then, take brown sugar, bourbon, a touch of molasses and melt in a separate pan on the stovetop. Add pecans to this. Cook a little longer and pour onto french vanilla ice cream or even better vanilla gelatto! Sprinkle your rose petals on the top and sit outside on a blanket under a blue sky with your coffee and twinkle a bit.

Dream Paris Post... for Saturday in Paris Blog Party

2011-05-26T03:46:00.000-07:00

We are in Paris and in love, paris and in LOVE, I walk to my lover through the light orbs and streams as if in a Mona Kuhn photograph, with mushrooms and asparagus and eggs from brown shells to my love, just waking... nothing between us, just light and food. Red Jumpsuit Apparatus' Your Guardian Angel plays softly from the kitchen.

(Link to song... http:youtu.be/Q7Em4fUOrZo)

We are in Paris and in Love and it is a faerytale, a dream come true on light motes, landing on his shoulders...

Dressing is bitter sweet for this is heaven, but so is the street. So, we venture out, together, in Paris, in love.

I can still taste the asparagus that you fed me while I lay with The Fountainhead on my belly and I smile into your eyes and you kiss my hair.Paris is a blur with our sleepy heads, but we walk through the joy and mist together and it is a dream one tastes. It is time to kiss for we are in PARIS and in love!

A designer sees the gingko necklace I made and wants to meet to make a line of them.

I find the perfect pink skirt to go with my black heels or my combat boots and TWIRL holding your finger tips. We leave our faery newspaper on a bench, by accident, in front of a bookstore that has pink books for sale. We come back to our small dream world for we can't get enough of each other.

Everything made with love tastes better.

After a long lovely day looking at art and each other, we fall back into bed and the faerytale continues until the morning sun.

I hope this was not too racy for my faerytale space, hee hee, but, that is my Paris wish, to be in Paris and in love, and faerytales and wishes and romance are food for the soul.

Thanks to Anita for hosting the Saturday in Paris Blog Party! Visit all the others who love the idea of Paris in the Spring at http://wwwcastlescrownscottages.blogspot.com/
Coffee picture by Mario Anzouni, cottage found at Porter Place Cottage, clothes by anthropologie, Mona Kuhn art is "Reflection 2006" France, poshtots clock, car on babylonhobbies, paris in spring on endless potluck, Filigree paper by friends, Martin Obaake and Celena Cavala.

Give me a bouquet anyday... all different sorts in such wide array...

2011-05-24T12:39:00.000-07:00

Sing a little song... "J'aime la galette..."

2011-05-22T13:57:00.000-07:00

savez-vous comment? Quand elle est bien fait, avec du buerre dedans."

Can you just picture a darling little girl singing, sitting under a tree next to a field of lavender in Provence? I made this with crescent rolls, portobello mushrooms (whole and sizzled in a pan before wrapping in crescents) and then baked with red onions and feta sprinkled on after taking it out. I brought them as a snack and a friend mentioned they resembled galettes! So, I looked-up the definition and voila, it does resemble those delightful morsels and I found this song about them, which is so very sweet!

I am going to make some more with rhubarb and brown sugar from my garden! YuM!!!!

"I have spread my dreams beneath your feet..."

2011-05-18T19:32:00.000-07:00

"Tread softly because you tread on my dreams." ~W.B. Yeats

"Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure, nor this thing, nor that, but simply growth. We are happiest when we are growing." ~Yeats

When I think of this time of the year I think of daffodils and Yeats. I simply feel green and good covering any of the bits of brown winter laid down in my heart. I row out to Innisfree, trailing my fingers in the icy waters, washing away, so much. I feel more alive this Spring than I have in ever so long. I love watching how beautiful people can be and how much I grow knowing them. The young, and troubled, the old, the vulnerable, the strong-strided, the sleepless, all show me so much. There is a lovely way about Spring.

"I have believed the best of every man, and find to believe is enough to make a bad man show him at his best, or even a good man swings his lantern higher." ~Yeats

I look forward to my pink hollyhock from the photo above, but, right now, I think I will embrace my love of daffodils and tulips, such happy sights are they. Ahh... I will dream of places with fields of them, all the marvelous places of Ireland and Holland and that immortal breath of Spring rejoicing. Happy Spring and may love grow and dance on your finger tips so all those you touch feel a dusting of that love. Daffodil dustings, that is what dreams are made of.

"I love my Mother as the trees love water and sunshine- she helps me grow, prosper, and reach great heights."~Terri Guillemets

2011-05-14T19:05:00.000-07:00

My Mom is the rock that I, being a water girl, revisit and swirl around, for she is a brilliant, crystalline, woman. I know this should have been last week's post, but she was on a trip and I was missing her (blessings to all of you who have lost their Mom, for that hurt would never leave me.) I could not let myself miss her more by posting last week. Does that sound very odd? She is back from her quilting art retreat, today, and we are going to Mom and Dad's tomorrow and I am awash with joy and calm. I truly love this intelligent, left and right-brained marvel, who is Wendy to my Dad's Peter Pan. She is able to conjure magic and glee in my children's hearts. She managed the whole town's Water and Electric's finances before retiring, is so very artistic and gave me my love of reading many books per week. We both can spend hours and hours together, just being. We have a kindness that others have noticed we share and I tell them that "She is the starlight that leads my compassion and the road, whenever I feel lost. Any kindness you see in me is my Mom and it resides in our rosy, Welsh cheeks. She is in my blood, sweetening every decision. She is calm and reserved, but, loves all of us with an abandon. It is like she is a marathon biker, though, with this love. She is steady and enthusiastic. That love never burns fast and fades. That love for us is with her every moment, with such a gentle, constant rhythm. It is something that I never take for granted, a moment with her. My children long to share hours gardening, talking, cooking, and reading with her and she has gifted our lives more than words could ever tell. I love you, beautiful woman. I love you, Mom.

"Don't count the days, make the days count."~ Unknown author

2011-05-12T10:18:00.000-07:00

What do you do in a day? How do you think? What do you say? Have you worked hard on something to help another, yourself? Could you find ten minutes between six and "ten after" to revel? Just revel in something? Just sweep up someone and kiss them sweet. Just grab your favorite poem and put up your feet. Find some clover and marvel. What did I do in a day? I could never remember it all, nor should I, I suppose. I will remember finding my tulip dry and stunning and capturing it like a little faery abode. I will remember putting Shadow bunny out in her little pen to enjoy watching her nibble. I shall smile upon the sleepy boys who won't stop growing "so big, so fast." I remember rubbing elbows with my daughter on the screen porch while the breeze blew at our locks. I guess that counts.

"The world is as many times new as there are children in our lives." ~ Robert Brault

2011-05-10T19:57:00.000-07:00

I know the sound of laughter. Adults laughing with kindness, yes, it is grand, yet, the sound of kids jubilant and at ease, all the while creating, now that is what I must hold in my hand. It twinkles and distracts, pulls our attention and plucks our heart strings, we sometimes even need our "hand blinders" to not be distracted by their sparkle. But, the joy, ah, the joy of kids' creative laughter, that is a sunny day.

Today's work with the high school students of Evansville's GSA and their advisor, Mr. Kuhn, was an ideal experience. I am honored to have been witness and participant today!

Where will I find joy? It will be at my feet laced with elven paintings on green leaves...

2011-05-07T05:10:00.000-07:00

"All that is gold does not glitter, not all of those who wander are lost. The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost

From the ashes a fire shall be woken. A light from the shadows shall spring. Renewed shall be blade that was broken. The crownless again shall be king." ~Tolkein I could have easily cursed the frost that came to my flowers last week. So many emotions. I couldn't help it, though, I reminded myself of the beauty, the miracle that I was seeing. I closed my eyes and I reveled in the sun from the morning east I could feel through and through and repeated the words of J.R.R. Tolkein (a bit inaccurately, I might add, once I double checked the quote, ~smiling right now, but the sentiment was there) I remembered that things in this life might seem like they are trying to cut you to the quick and freeze your life force, people can be so cruel and confused. Yet, here is a beauty unmatched if we can see how we can Be Joy. I received this handmade pin for my birthday recently from my friend, Shelley. It says be joy. I love that. Yes, I can give joy. Yes, I can spread joy. Yes, I can seek joy. I even lose joy in the face of a burning ice king. But to be joy, well, it covers all of that, because a light comes on from deep within that thaws the damaging frost until, really, all you have left of the hurt is the miracle of those painted crystals on your leaves. Your heart melts at the possibility of a new sunrise even when you can still feel the shaking in your hands of the mean, dark, night clawing at your extremities. What is a fairytale to me? It is walking in nature when all seems unnatural. It is glowing with light when all seems lost and oh, so, dark. A fairytale is carrying with joy and success your babies through the rocky world even without hands as in the Brother's Grimm story, "The Girl With No Hands" and always choosing integrity when faced with false spells and the wicked. This is my life and I choose to be joy.

Thanks to Shelley Wittman Bisch for the gorgeous pin. Love ya friend!

Rosemary Oil Recipe for Silke to Keep Away Those Mosquitoes!

2011-05-04T11:58:00.000-07:00

Take your sprigs of rosemary and remove the needles. Dry the needles overnight. Place them in a ball jar with oil, like olive or almond. Cover jar with muslin and put in a sunny window for a month. (just in time for summer if you do it this week!) Shake it gently without getting the material cover wet (every other day) and there you have a fool proof mosquito repellent. I add patchoulli essential oil, also, and never get a bite while other poor dears are swatting away, spraying toxic, expensive, spray that doesn't work as well. Try it on your pulse points, temples, wrists, neck, behind ears, knees, ankles, etc. Hope it helps! Remember if you want to go get essential oils at your natural food store, you could be mosquito-free, today! Blessings, all.

"A well-spent day brings happy sleep." ~ Leonardo Da Vinci

2011-05-04T04:58:00.000-07:00

"All our knowledge has its origins in its perceptions." ~ Da Vinci

So perceive great goodness, I say, perceive great good. ~ Amy

I woke feeling joy tickling my toes. Hope you all feel that soon!

"I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but they whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles unto death." ~ Da Vinci
I feel little and shrinking somedays, too, but I just go to the place where my skies are blue and when I forget, I look in their eyes and in mine, too, and I am there. I am alive and it is good.

Drawing of Leonardo by Amy Sperry Faldet

Each day I have been away, what would I say?

2011-04-30T04:55:00.000-07:00

What would I tell you each day that whirred by this month? What would I say each day? I would say, "Ahhh... enjoy the dew at sunrise and get ink on your hands. Take time to kiss someone and bite into a peach. 'I love today' should be on your tongue dissolving like a sugarcube until you close your blue eyes because you believe it." Each day I didn't get to visit you or tell you something new, what would I have said? I would have said that today is possibility. Today is possibility... my new old typewriter would love to meet you, her name is Miss Underwood and she lives with me now. She and I have been writing for decades to each other in our imaginations and we decided that we might as well write together, forever, so she has blessed our home with her clickety clackety songs and the patience she requires. Miss Underwood slows down the world a bit so I can jump on or jump off, the perfect playmate, really.

Today is possibility... with Once Upon a Time on my lips wet with raindrops and joys from my birthday.

Today is possibility... filled with cake icing and smiles, gifts from friends, food with family.

Today is possibility... for the Earth as my daughter and I make jewelry from the inside of our broken cd player.

Today is possibility... sitting under the snow drops and flowers drinking sunshine.

Today is possibility... a message and a bottle from my friend to me.

Today is possibility... getting a haircut for the first time in a couple years not done by yours truly.

What would I say to you each day I missed you? I would say coffee still makes me sigh and windmills bring winds of change. I would say so much. I would say I like to wear big white shirts with a black tie for extra comfort. I would say that Secondhand Serenade ballads and the song, "Your revolution is a joke." by Funeral for a Friend and Yellowcard's "Light Up the Sky" fill my ears when I am gardening. I would say I can't eat animals for I picture them with thoughts of their own. I would say so much. Today is possibility. When you don't hear me, know I am saying things the best I can. The words float out from my heart on kite strings and then I run and snip them getting wet feet in the process so they can all come to you with love and breath. I would say these things.

Light and love, Amy

Sorry to have been gone so long, jumping on beams of light has been such fun...

2011-04-24T08:44:00.000-07:00

We visited birthday land, planted some trees, made earrings out of the inside of an old CD player, there is talk of windmills for the Gay/Straight Alliance at our high school, YAY, and much more out on these beams of sunshine! So much so much love to share and joy to scatter!

I will return soon with visits to all and much to say and light to bring each and everyday! Enjoy your cuddle bunnies today! The Earth needs a hug, too, do something good for your Mother Earth. Here is a Easter hello from my bunny, Shadow! Blessings, joy, calm, and light to you!

Today is my birthday and I am traveling...

2011-04-12T05:37:00.001-07:00

...to the edge of my imagination, holding hands with littlest, my son. We will smile at each other...

and jump into the land of everything that is possible. It is a land full of soft light, warm breezes, and where, with chalk in hand, everyone is Da Vinci.

"The world is but a canvas to our imaginations." ~ Thoreau

I love jumping on a beam of light and traveling to the heart with some one so very four, so very new and fresh. He is a beam of rainbow. What a gift to the world!

"Spread love everywhere you go."

2011-04-09T09:47:00.000-07:00

"Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier." ~ Mother Teresa

Pencil drawing by Amy Sperry Faldet

Celebrating Spring, Art, Birthdays and most importantly, the bond of friendship!

2011-04-03T05:35:00.000-07:00

Oooh, how can I begin to express the joy of spending an artsy day with my dearest, most creative friends to celebrate my birthday? We got together to see the bliss and light that is possible when friends, kindred to the end, celebrate life, learning, art, and friendship! Molly and I have Spring birthdays, so on top of the lovely company, the gorgeous lunch, the perfect, historic, quaint, town, there were presents, too!

Shelley Wittman-Bisch, the dear friend, who has let me teach her art program, in the past and is my kindred friend in all things sweet, light, and faery is seen here with the pins she made!

Shelley made these pins!!! Get a close look, for they are beyond precious!

This is the corner where Shelley and I made our fused glass pendants for the kiln.

The view! Every building is perfectly maintained, historic and quaint beyond words and every building in this quiet, tiny, country town is an art gallery or shop!!!!! Magic!!!! To be sure!!!!!

Rena Veerkamp Askey, Molly Hicks, Shelley Wittman-Bisch and Paoli, (the most gorgeous little art town you ever did see) equals bliss!!!!! I pinch myself at the blessings I receive knowing these dear friends and creating memories with them is a faerytale day!!!! Thanks friends.

"Feed your faith and your fears will starve to death." ~unknown

2011-03-31T06:53:00.001-07:00

I will choose to feed my faith in the colorful circle of life, feed the faith I have in myself. Nothing else is real. "FEAR is False Evidence Appearing Real." as my friend, Joni reminds me and "There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them." ~ Andre Gide

"Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile... initially scared me almost to death." ~ Betty Bender It is the faerytale mentality to never feed the fears, to venture, head against the winds, with faithful friends of varied strengths and virtues, and believe. I emerse myself in the stories of humanity, in faerytales, not because they are escapism. No, do you see? Faerytales, they are the grit, they are the rising above, they are the blind faith in good, blind not in ignorance, only because we can't always know what is around the curve. Faith in the circle, in hope, is the faerytale. Faerytales shine because they are forged with hot, searing, determination. The diamonds of hope are most brilliant when faced with the cuts of metamorphosis. The victories of the spirit glow with light when, at the end, the heart is stronger because the feet are bloodied with travel and the lit heart revives our realization that we may be small, but we can. We must. and we can.

"Fairytales are more than true, not because they tell us that dragons exist..."

2011-03-29T08:27:00.000-07:00

...but, because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." ~G.K. Chesterton

"I have missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I have lost more than 300 games. 26 times I have been trusted to make the game winning shot and missed. I have failed over and over and over again in my life and that is why I succeed." ~Michael Jordan

My dear friend, Monica Zuniga, is having a FREE online art workshop!!!!!

2011-03-27T07:07:00.000-07:00

The Free Spirit Workshop for FREE? yes, yes, it is true, a gift from Moni to you!

If you haven't met my friend, Monica, you must! I have known her for years and she is the sweetest soul to know, an amazing artist, and the best art teacher, EVER! She is from Mexico and her ning site has a plethora of choices for workshops to choose from and this Spring she is showing her Free Spirit Mixed Media video workshop for free as a gift to all of us. She is so thorough, so talented and mild, it is a pleasure to learn from this multi-talented, joyous, light-being!

Here is the web site and find her on facebook, as well, to keep updated on all she offers!

http://www.handsandheart.ning.com/group/freespiritmixedmediaworkshop

"Those true eyes..."

2011-03-23T14:34:00.000-07:00

too pure and too honest in aught to disguise the sweet soul shining through them." ~ Owen Meredith

Could I thread all that I see through the eye of the needle... a stillness... a moment in time? Each miracle has its moment and they thread together so...

During the still, I take my moments, choosing, just so, and breathe out and slide them through the eye of the sweet, salty, storm.

Eye sketch and poetry by Amy Sperry Faldet

I shall live in a little fern forest in a house carved from bark by my Da...

2011-03-17T11:19:00.000-07:00

I would gather little fire twigs and delicious berries, for warmth without and within,

I would have an understanding with the local magic cat, she could use my chimney when she wished to rub her chin. I would pretend to shake the rugs out after returning at journey's end with tiny muddy feet to a Thumbelina abode for a faery foundling friend...

My house would welcome all visitors, small and very tall, my hospitality would know no end, they need not bring anything at all. I would hum a little Celtic ditty with the bee and the purring kitty in a soft pentatonic scale

and the music would cure all the woes and relieve those who wail. I wish I could have my Da carve a little abode for every homeless soul and every new orphan and it would be planted, safely, in between the fern and the sunbeams. I shall live in a little fern forest in an abode meant for all. Blessings to all who are lost with muddy feet and tear streaks and torn green and devastation around them. Blessings to all.

Faery House Art Carving by Ross Sperry, my father.

I am sick and feeling small and weak on my "Getting things done Week" sigh...

2011-03-15T05:29:00.000-07:00

Now that the college course I was teaching is over, I had my list of "get-back-to's" like priming and painting the upstairs bath, spring cleaning, visiting in blogland, writing for my Specialist application, sooooo many things this week... not going to happen. Littlest and I are achey, soo sick. Weak, fragile days ahead. See you when we are better. Sigh. Counting blessings, of course.

Softly subdued are the harsh, snapping branches of my mind...

2011-03-09T08:52:00.000-08:00

Snapping subdued, I see where my dreams take me...

I dream frequently, ideas come sit at my bedside, they snap at me for recognition, until they hear the scratch of pencil on paper blindly written because of sleep-lidded eyes, closed, my mind thought for the night. The imagination stirs always, a thought begun. It branches out over the mud of thawing days and begs for attention. Thoughts of lesson plans, ideas to teach stretch out and give me joy until I follow out to the feeblest, enticing, end of a bare branch not realizing enthusiasm may not be accompanied by parachute. I smile as I waft down as the branch bends under my expectations and land in the soft dream of snow and subtlety. I look up from my blankets and write down my ideas for I do treasure them and they build ladders and grow so beautifully in the minds of my future students. I guess I will always climb, even if that means interrupted nights and free-falling ventures.
I like how I land, paws down, smiling, still looking up at my lofty ambition while soft, white, fluffs land on my lashes. Sleep may not keep my ideas at bay, but, in the end, I like living this way. Just knowing this is the softening of the branches I grip and I lay high above in the tree tops where there is no more snapping branches. They have my attention. Soft and focused and full of embrace I listen to the muses and snowflake whispers.

I will be grading college papers and enjoying thinking of my students on their way to the careers they climb towards, this week. I am dreaming, also of teaching so many things, literature, art in relation to history and literature, clockwork and thoughts of Metamorphosis and unconditional love... my head is full, friends. Hope to visit all of you within the next couple weeks with more frequency. Thanks for the patience, as always... Blessings and light, Amy

"Once upon a time...

2011-03-05T05:12:00.000-08:00

ever so many years ago, Truth suddenly vanished from out of the world. When people perceived this, they were greatly alarmed and at once sent five wise men in search of Truth. They set out, one in this direction and one in that, all plentifully equipped with traveling expenses and good intentions. They sought for ten long years. Then, they returned, each separately. While still at a distance, they waved their hats and shouted that they had found Truth.

The first stepped forward and declared that Truth was Science. He was not able to finish his report, however, for before he had done, another thrust him aside and shouted that that was a lie, that Truth was Theology and that he had found it. Now, while these two were at loggerheads--for the Science man replied to the attack vigorously--there came a third and said, in beautiful words, that Love was Truth, without a doubt. Then, came the fourth and he stated, quite curtly, that he had Truth in his pocket, that it was gold, and that all the rest was childish nonsense. At last, came the fifth. He could not stand on his legs, and gave a gurgling laugh, and said that Truth was wine. He had found Truth in wine, after looking everywhere.

Then, the five wise men began to fight, and they pummeled one another so lustily that it was horrible to see. Science had its head broken, and Love was so greatly ill-treated that it had to change its clothes before it could show itself again in respectable society. Gold was so thoroughly stripped of every covering that people felt awkward about knowing it; and the bottle broke and Wine flowed away into the mud. But, Theology came off worst of all...everybody had a blow at it and it became the laughing stock of all beholders.

And people took sides, some with this one and some with that, and they shouted so loud that they could neither see nor hear for the din. But, far away, at the extreme end of the Earth, sat a few and mourned because they thought that Truth had gone to pieces and would never be made whole, again.

Now, as they sat there, a little girl came running up and said that she had found Truth. If they would just come with her--it was not very far. Truth was sitting in the midst of the world, in a green meadow.

Then, there came a pause in the fighting, for the little girl looked so very sweet. First, one went with her; then, another; and ever more... At last, they were all in the meadow and there, discovered a figure the like of which they had never seen before. There was no distinguishing whether it was a man or a woman, an adult or a child. Its forehead was pure as that of one who knows no sin; its eyes deep and serious as those of one who has read into the heart of the whole world. Its mouth opened with the brightest smile and then, quivered with a sadness greater than any could describe. Its hand was soft as a mother's and strong as the hand of a king; its foot trod the earth firmly, yet crushed not a flower. Then, the figure had large, soft, wings, like the birds that fly at night.

Now, as they stood there and stared, the figure drew itself up and cried, in a voice that sounded like bells ringing, "I am truth!"

"It's a fairytale!" said Science.

"It's a fairytale!" cried Theology and Love and Gold and Wine.

Then, the five wise men and their followers went away, and they continued to fight until the world was shaken to its center.

But, a few old and weary men and a few young men with ardent and eager souls and many women and thousands of children with great wide eyes... these remained in the green meadow where the Fairy Tale was."

This story was written in 1905 by Carl Ewald and was called, "The Story of a Fairy Tale."

I miss visiting all of you and plan after next week to walk through all of your portal's again with more frequency, friends. Please have a lovely week, in the meantime, in your imagination's meadow, for there is where you will see the problems of the world in the light of a bright, spring morn.

I finally know what my three wishes would be...

2011-02-27T05:08:00.000-08:00

I have always struggled when people ask me what would your three wishes be. I always say things which get the response, "Amy, that is not for you, that is for all humankind or that is for your kids, etc. What would you wish for yourself?" Strange that it took my own drawings to help me remember all I might wish for. They are a wish to always feel lighter, to dream softly, and to have sweet remembrance of a life lovingly lived... I think I will make a fourth wish while I am on it and someday, I will draw this one out, as well... to love completely. These are my wishes, finally understood. Blessings to all of you and may you have these wishes and all your life's kind wishes come true...

Art by Amy Sperry Faldet

"There is peace and rest and comfort in sorrow." ~Kierkegaard

2011-02-25T12:49:00.000-08:00

When I think of coffee, I think of my Grandpa, a "grand-sir." I remember him giving me one of my first cups, I think just to see what I would think of the whole thing. It was black, strong, and good. I never forgot the way that made me feel to share a simple thing like that with a quiet, mysterious, Welsh Englishman born in America, but never far from his Celtic roots in his ways and likes. My Grandpa passed today after 90 lived years. His heart was always called to the wilderness looking for morels, berries, providing for his four daughters. I live in the house where he raised his family. I am at a loss at how peaceful it feels to have him at peace. I don't sleep well when those I care about are suffering, empathy distress, I guess. The world was a good place with him in it and he left such a legacy of caring and coping during times of strain. He was a brave one. He would like this quote, I think, for I saw him make many pots of coffee the old-fashioned way during hard times... One could say that "...the basic need of the human heart in nearly every crisis, is a good hot cup of coffee." ~Alexander King

I think I shall go make a nice black cuppa joe now... two funerals in a month for two influential men in my world...

Yes, hugs, remembering moments, and cups of coffee, sound like the ticket.

I made my first doll... I posted her Wednesday to give myself a hug...

2011-02-23T06:40:00.000-08:00

I based her on my little elf girls... I have alot to learn... like seams must be tightly sewn... or she loses her bits and fluff... experimenting with paint and markers is something I need to practice more... but, oh, it was fun to have one of my little friends come out to play in 3D...

This week, my lovely 90 year old Grandpa, who blessedly for us, lived with my parents because he was so ill, has gotten to the point where there will most likely be no coming around again. He is in hospital... Wednesday, I posted this for myself because I had phone calls to look into different care options after his downward turn... Hospice meetings... life and thoughts of death. 90 is a long full life. I know. I am grateful my children got to see him weekly and anytime we wanted, they got to care for him, bring him his tray, gush to him about a new toy, or just see his smile and wave. I am not being greedy. I had him a long time. We still "have" him today, a whisper of him... but he is here and well, he is not. So, yes, 90 is a full life, no argument. But, he is my Grandpa: Picker of berries, Fisherman extraordinaire, Welshman, and Kindness. I want more, but I more than that I want peace for him. He is comfortable now... resting... until...

I am loving that we are doing that for him. He is proud of the sisters and family. I know this and so this doll and that thought give me strength for the day ahead and the hug I needed on Wednesday...

I was thrilled to start the doll-making process with my friend, Monica Zuniga at http://www.monicazuniga.blogspot.com/ and hope to make one like she intstructed, soon to keep comfort in the foremost part of my brain... creating can comfort. Thanks Moni for getting me started and I look forward to learning from your wonderful teaching!

Good morning, flowers...

2011-02-21T04:05:00.000-08:00

Artists must never live in fear of being copied... Let us be fearless and friends...

2011-02-20T07:24:00.000-08:00

The picture above is part of a painting I did on being Fearless...A Wistful should be able to peek- out without my fear of being copied to hinder the inspiration she gives...

Ideas are not something an artist should fear sharing... either in blogland, in publications, in mainstream production, anywhere. It should be like inviting a friend over for tea in your home and having fun together creating, dreaming, giving...

Hello every dear artist and friend! I have a little gift of information to send...

Did you know that if people who love, say my Vrai Elf, to the right on my sidebar or my "Home Sweet Home" cottage, my faery pumpkin carriage featured as "Inspirational Quote" and art of the week by Jo Packham or my artistic style or my "Wistfuls" or any of my drawings and decided to make art in the same style, using the same techniques and media and then, not mention how I influenced them, or worse, sell the art they create, that it is against the law?

I am not being copied, this is just an educational post to help us all. Did you know? Many are fuzzy on what is right or wrong when copying and selling art. Many artists get a warm, wonderful, feeling from an artist, buy the artist's work, admire the artist and begin painting like the artist, sometimes technique for technique, stroke for stroke. It is usually, such an innocent mistake on the part of the artist who is copying someone else. The artist doesn't understand copyright. The artist doesn't understand how it affects the licensing, rights, and feelings of the artist being copied. I know it is a mistake any could make, but it is like calling one of my Wistfuls, yours. A Wistful spoke to my imagination and I brought her forth with her sisters after. She was from my heart. I was fearless in showing her to all and should be, just that "Fearless." I love how we all share information, technique, inspiration in Bloglandia! It is a miracle to me. So, with that in mind, this post is only that... informational and sent with love. It is a foggy area for some what the line is between influence and copyright infringement. This link will clear-up any questions about what is ok and what is not. Kelly Rae Roberts wrote it out with such firm clarity, compassion, and even kindness. http://www.kellyraeroberts.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-is-and-is-not-okay.html

It is such a loving thing, usually, to have someone emulate what you do. I know how much artists can make you feel, inspireyou, make you want to create... so use what they teach to find your own heart path. If you love how something looks, look inside yourself and tell your story with say, a paint technique or a use of media or crumpled dictionary pages and show us your light. It is so bright, you know, your story... So gorgeous, unique and yours... so divine. I want to see you shine. Take your wick to those whom inspire you, light it at their flame, if you need to, tell your story, as a result, but don't take the whole candle... please... and call it your own...

Do you think there is a secret garden in the heart?

2011-02-19T09:56:00.001-08:00

If there is not, then I shall walk a path of light and imagination until I find a nook behind a mossy wall, seed packet and daisy in hand, looking high and low all over the land so that I may witness what I sow...

Do you think it resides in every little miracle petal to remind us of how intricate we can be?

What if I left for my garden, today, to land on a cushion of peace that even the pokes and the pins of the world could not harm? A garden of the mind and heart filled with the tiniest treasures, petals of inspiration, each. What would thread it all together, wound-up in the recesses of a forgotten garden? Blue skies and pink blossoms next to a babbling brook...

Nests of hopes and treasures in vintage pink bowls...

Fruits of my dreams, prints of those dreams on a light-filled desk.

Seeds from friends and dreams of summer rooms...

Thoughts and people that leave clear impressions like stamps on the soul...

Dreams of beekeepers saving the world, quickly sketched and painted like a spell from the wishes of the mind... Jewels and findings to add some sparkle...

Blossoms of what I create and all I embrace... Full of laughter and humor with my children... my garden grows...

What is love? Truth from a daughter...

2011-02-15T07:53:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time... my daughter, tiny and flaxen, was twirling in the park and a forlorn teen was sitting under a tree tearing petals off of a flower, saying, "He loves me. He loves me, not." My little cherub daughter was shocked. She walked over to the girl and smiled a sad smile at her with confusion in her eyes... She said, "What if that flower loved you?" as she looked sadly at the petals on the grass.

This Elf is Vrai, which means truth. The pink hollyhocks were being ravaged by hungry, shiny, bugs one summer and since these were my late Aunt Judi's favorites, I was completely devastated at the time. I thought I would lose Judi's hollyhock forever, if they kept it up. Love sometimes is a difficult thing, isn't it? I realized that to save the plant, until I could figure out how to deter the mean, little bugs ( I know they are not mean, just hungry and misguided or displaced somehow, smile, sigh) I needed to take the blossoms off and they would go away. No pink, fragile, delicacy, no ravaging. I thought, even if this doesn't work and it never blossoms, again, I will have these photos forever to remember my faerytale Aunt. It worked, luckily, and the bugs haven't been back. What I learned was that people must always have the characters in the stories that make you blind for awhile or cry for awhile. For, the truth is, the world can be ravaging. Yet, I think that I have learned a truth or two about fallen petals. These truths are this. If you have a healthy, divine, flower in front of you, you do not pluck petals off it wondering about the love of someone else. If that love is there, it will be a whole blossom, shining in your eyes. Second, sometimes in order to save the whole plant, one must pluck the blossoms and lay them in the light of truth to love for eternity, as a memory, so that wholeness will come, again. Love the light of the blossom in front of you. Hold it in your vision, for you would never pull apart something so perfect asking this... "I love me. I love me, not. I love me. I love me, not." No. You would be so enraptured by the blossom of your heart for yourself and the strength that takes, that you would smile upon the blessed blossom and walk through the dew always back to you...

To yourself. By doing that, the truth is, you would be able to love and be loved for you need not take to fill-up with the answers you think you seek.

"The world is full of people...

2011-02-12T05:45:00.000-08:00

who will go their Whole lives and

not actually

Live one day. She did not intend on being one of them." ~Leigh StandleyThis self-expression page is called, "I satisfy this wish." It is a sketch on watercolor paper glued onto some favorite scrapbook paper. I covered the piece with mailing tape and brushed here and there with paint.

I am making quick self-expression pages, just for me, this year. I am aiming for one a month. Quick expressions of self, inspirations, studies, that give me a centeredness and warmth. These are photos of my page for February. Blessings to all of you in thanks for the last post's comments. Take care and live, live, live, even for just one day. If you do, it will become a habit... a grand, velvety, one that holds you when you slip.

"Break a vase..."

2011-02-09T10:15:00.001-08:00

and the love that resembles the fragments is stronger than that love that took its symmetry for granted when it was whole."~ Derek Walcott

My husband's Stepfather will be celebrated at his funeral, Friday. He was an artist, a kind man, and held much in the vase of a life.

Light and photography...

2011-02-04T03:36:00.001-08:00

"Photography is, for me,

where your eye lands and a story is told in the light..." ~Amy Sperry Faldet

(Camera is circa 1930's from friend, Jean Wyse Guidone, artist extraordinaire! Visit her vintage blog at http://www.idamaria-appletree.blogspot.com )

"I am feeling owly..."

2011-02-02T05:29:00.000-08:00

Owly is defined two ways... The first definition in The Oxford English Dictionary describes "owly" as a word used for someone who resembles an owl in her ability to sustain unblinking calm and peace.

Second definition: Cranky, irritable, with a moody disposition...

Did you know there are two meanings of this wonderful and descriptive word? The Word Detective, (do you know this fantastic being?) describes the history of "Owly" in such a way, that it makes one picture everyone sitting by the fire, discussing colloquial terms of the mid-nineteenth century. I love it! Now most of you who know me daily, in person, know I am the first definition, usually. Lately, with coming down yesterday with a whopper head cold, I think I have crossed the line to the second definition. Smile. I drew this darling owl queen, because, goodness, what I wouldn't give for a huge vat of tea and a big long sleep today only to wake in the quiet of evening when all are sleeping to hunt for words and swirls and the books that put a sparkle back in my eye! I just finished The Replacement and am now reading, A.S. Byatt's The Children's Book. Next, I am moving on to Clockwork Angel and then, Leviathan. I figure if I feed myself enough pages, eventually, I will be right as rain. Right? Right, as rain, yes, that's it! The snow came in velvet cloaks all last night and there is nothing to do but lay by the fire with the kiddos and get better. So, this owly gal is going to hibernate during the day and read all night and embrace her owly ways.

Drawing by Amy Sperry Faldet

The darling, Terri Windling, has featured my art desk and art on her blog!!!

2011-01-29T03:50:00.000-08:00

I only know that when I sit down at my art desk, I am transported to another place...

It is where I can be messy and dream...

Tea and thoughts brew here... on blustery days and

on Summer mornings... and now it is on Terri Windling's blog...

Terri Windling is such a light-bringer. I am ever so grateful to be included in her Art Desk exploration! She has featured my antique draftsman table and the goodies that you might find on it for her blog! I am sooo delighted to have a little article about me and my art on her blog for, you see she is a shiny one, a brilliant, you know! She has an uncanny way of bringing you right with her when she writes her books, like, The Wood Wife, The Raven Queen, The Changeling, The Winter Child, A Midsummer Night's Fairytale, and more. She edits all of your favorites, check and see. If you have a book of fairytales, she has probably been part of the editing! But, you know what gives me the most joy? The way her art holds your hand. She is so sweet and the paper shows it all. Walk through this portal and follow all the paths even after reading the Art Desk articles, ( my desk and art are at the bottom) and your morning will be a brighter one for knowing her light. Thanks Terri for the idea and for the fun and for helping us meet all the artists you feature and letting us sit with them at their creative spaces!

Terri Windling has Endicott Studio and she and so many others spin fine gold for those cold, Winter nights when you want to wrap yourself in imagination.

Begin here at this link for the article and much more...

http://www.windling.typepad.com/blog/2011/01/desk-series.html

"It is the stretched soul that makes music...

2011-01-26T06:26:00.000-08:00

and souls are stretched...

by the pull of opposites, opposite bents, tastes, yearnings,

loyalties. Where there is no polarity

where energies flow smoothly in one direction, there will be much doing, but no music." ~Eric Hoffer

We can't always feel well or our frame of reference would be a shallow shadow. Two more of my "Wistfuls" whispered to be born and so here is the fruit of the whispers. Feeling a bit better, thanks. The Wistfuls are a series that bring me peace and come from nowhere and everywhere. Blessings.

I have my marshmallow shoes on...

2011-01-24T07:19:00.000-08:00

and my spine is beginning to hurt like licorice, so stiff and left in the snow...

but, my life is sweeter because of Millie Meadowsweet for she has given me an award, and Rena Veerkamp Askey, my darling angel friend who took me out to lunch Thursday and gave me chocolates with sea salt on top, my favorite! And I have a soft place to land because that same day, Jean Guidone Wyse, another dear friend gifted me this moss to put in my nest of copper sparkle...

So, life is soo sweet even with ice blocks for feet and my head swirling like I am in a cotton candy maker... flu... grr.... you!

Here are some lovely places to visit and some things you may not know about me...

Just a couple, could be thousands, but, just a couple places that stir the imagination...

Louise Robinson's Art and Ghosts at http://www.artandghosts.squarespace.com/

Dear Stephanie Dosen's blog http://www.tinyowlknits.blogspot.com/

Emily Martin's http://www.theblackapple.typepad.com/

Paige Hill at http://www.paigehill.blogspot.com

And the gracious, amazing, Terri Windling at http://www.endicott-studio.com/ who will feature my art desk sometime this year for her blog. Yay!

Here we go with the little bits and bobs about myself:

~The word Cornish makes me perk-up!

~My children say I rhyme often, especially when stressed or trying to get all four of them somewhere in a hurry.

~I would border my whole yard with purple wisteria, hydrangeas and roses!

~Cabachons make me sigh...

~I have a secret... any adventures in my journals are done by my creation, Blythe Plum. She is my alter ego and stunt double. Thank goodness for her moxy!

~I love the idea of knowing a snowy white owl as a friend. I drive-out to the country to see him and we discuss meadows and the happenings there.

~I am intrigued by all things faery, mossy, and sparkly.

~I love chocolate from friends, listening to the rain from my front porch with a book in hand, berres brothers coffee.

Well, goodness, I hope this is a bit of a diversion for you today and let me know if you ever tell bits and bobs about yourself, all of you, for I would love to visit when I feel better. Off to have a bit of my Vanilla Mint green tea from Joni and a Gail Ambrosius chocolate with sea salt, from Rena to make me feel comforted on this cold day. Blessings all and stay well!

Thanks again to Millie Meadowsweet, the dear, Misa, at http://www.milliemeadowsweet.blogspot.com/ for sending joy and light my way with such a sweet celebration of blogland friends!

Here ye! Here ye! You are called to the newspaper land of The Filigree! Let us get inky and muddled with fun, join me and Besnik Benishi, below...

2011-01-21T04:29:00.000-08:00

Take a moment to "Once Upon a Time" with me to the land of the fairy underdog and The Filigree. Close your eyes and rub your hands together for you are going on a magical journey where only an inky boat floating on font can take you. As your eyes and hands open, behold you have the keys to enter the Land of the newspaper, The Filigree by Celena Cavala and Martin Obakke. "What are the keys?" you ask. "Why, all I have after closing my eyes and rubbing my hands together are palms stained with ink and moss." you say. "Perfect!" I say, you have made my day! You are ready, then, to journey to the interview I have for thee, an interview with the creators of The Filigree.

Celena gives us a wink and Martin, a nod, gifts to carry us when we think we are alone, kicking through the fonts and typed letters on pulp paper. They hold out their hands now and as we touch, we are in the world of adventure, serendipity, and love, they have found. Readers, just breathe these words, "We are lucky. We are lucky."Sit down on this "O" or "B" you will find them much more comfortable than the "W" or the "N." Welcome to the newspaper of the fairy kind, The Filigree. Questions are welcome. So, I begin...

As we sit here, within the pages of their very own newspaper, formed by the alchemy of two sweet spirits, I ask my first interview question, (as a little, winged, lower-case "e" gave me its cockeyed grin.) I smile back and ask Celena and Martin, "If you had one idea you try to relay to the world with your writing and art, what is it?"

The response is this..."How is the hero able to accomplish these great things? Where does he go out to eat? Where does he rent a room? If the child saves the world from darkness, it is not on his own, but by the selfless acts of many that helped him get there. We like to tell their stories."

"We like to celebrate the fairytale underdog and the behind the scenes elements of the workings of a great story." Celena relays. I picture her brilliance as one of these mortal beings writing and creating as she spins filaments of beauty, reporter pencil in hand, about the immortals on the pages, hee hee. The couple lived in Denmark, Martin's homeland, for seven years and now they live in Tennessee, where they create magical worlds full of all the whimsy and wonder we forget to notice as we sit at the gray, cold, bus stop of life. When asked, "Where do you find twinkles of inspiration or worlds of wonder?" Celena replies, "We are inspired by the Invisible world and Imagination and the points in between that we refer to as 'the Filigree,' thin, gossamer strands that connect everything. When Celena is not baking troll fingers, she is the most brilliant storyteller and fantastic writer, conceptualist, and editor of The Filigree Newspaper.They met in Italy, where Martin was painting and she was a ballerina... ahh... faerytales do come true... Martin is one with the Muses and gifts us with the Enchantment of the Invisibles... He shows us what we sometimes do not slow down to see. His paintings for The Filigree and art exhibitions, as well as, his sculptures bring to life musings of joy and tenderness. They will be exhibited at the 4 Bridges Art Festival, in Chattanooga, in April.

If you would like to hear their animated stories on radio follow the link to their site and see what fun you can get into there. Visit their website at http://www.thefiligree.com/ A faerytale couple, to be sure, has taken us to their land of whimsy, fantastic writing, and touching and astounding art. Look up from the lower-case "m" you used as your settee and notice the wind that whipped through Celena's hair is now in The Filigree font, so it is time to prepare. Grab a wind filament, hold softly, not tight for the best traveling is with a soft grip, yes, that's right. You, with your inky face, are back in my faerytale space. Place your feet lightly on the Earth as you arrive, back, for once you have acquainted yourself with Celena Cavala and Martin Obakke your spirit can take wing and that is a lovely thing.

Thank-you, friends, for the pictures and the interview and the ink boat that will never leave my palm...

The World Has Put On Its Fleece, Again...

2011-01-18T07:23:00.000-08:00

The softness listens, pink underneath...

I bring out my childhood friend of the bluest eye and know it is the softest thing in the world right now...

The snow came and sits like a covering of lamb on my thoughts, cushioning the blows.

The winds rock and sway, yet through it all the soft white fleece shall stay, covering the heart.

Words from a friend soften my little corner of the world, innocence, white.

I think I shall dream of trees wishing to turn fleece, covering the evergreen pokes, the rough prickles cease.
Poem and images by Amy Sperry Faldet
Thanks Rena, for the softest words, (yes, they were too beautious words! and just ever so right!) Thanks to the darling Misapple, the wondrous Misa Nishimura, dear Millie Meadowsweet for the memory of a little friend.

If you want a fleece lamby, new for you, like my vintage one from my first days on this Earth, visit http://www.milliemeadowsweet.blogspot.com/

Help Natasha Burns help her homeland...

2011-01-18T04:15:00.000-08:00

I received a message from a dear artist friend about the devastating floods in Australia and am passing along the link today to help. She is having a give-away with conditions...

http://www.natashaburns.blogspot.com/

Green and White Garden has created an Enchanted Forest and has a Giveaway to boot!

2011-01-17T04:10:00.000-08:00

Helloooo! down there doon't be left ouoot!! Don't be blue! I have a little journey for you...

Victoria is having a giveaway... Yes, yes, it is grand, but truly, you must go just to see her enchanted faeryland...

http://www.greenandwhitegarden.blogspot.com/2011/01/giveaway-in-enchanted-forest.html

"The fog comes on little cat feet..." ~Sandburg

2011-01-15T18:15:00.000-08:00

"My darling," the little cat said, "The fairies have come with the fog. Follow my prints past the strawberry patch, those little greens, tucked-in sweetly under downy white, and see what was left for you in the sweet sunlight...

The elves, they have cobbled, for they know you have wobbled on shoes that were not up to par. They understand the magic of a lovely turned heel and that when weary it can take you far."

"What a sweet surprise and oh! just my size! Truly, Moonstar, I cannot believe my mind and my eyes."

How can a fairytale girl be so lucky... now I will feel a bit of whimsy and possibly, a bit more plucky to don such a pair as these... Teaching will be elevated and matching my vintage outfits, a breeze."

So, there you have it, new shoes on platters in the snow beyond the sleeping strawberries. Who knew? Woo hoo!

(Secretly, who knew you could find such deals at JC Penney's... I found three pair at their sale the first week of Jan. for under 80 dollars! Given I do not spend to no end on fashion... St. Vincent's is my haunt of choice... new shoes for that price brought visions of elves and cobbling to my head, hee hee.)

The Thursday Think About... at least this Thursday...

2011-01-13T06:49:00.000-08:00

This first and maybe only, Thursday Think About is dedicated to Victoria and Anita for all of us this week seem to be dreaming of blossoms... I have, therefore, posted some of the blossoms from my garden from previous posts, the polymer clay blossom I made to where on faery picnics and invite you all to come to my dream land where my garden is blossoming, my flowers are all where they should be not meandering around randomly as they are now each Spring and Summer in my wild yard and I lay out the white, soft, blanket and bring out the cupcakes and lemonade and ahhh... we just sip the light fantastic...

Well, just had to have some sweets on the blanket in the garden, didn't I, now?

Know you can come here anytime to warm your toes and hear the faery bells and fill your heart with light...

Where Do I Create Wednesday... a once in awhile tour of my messy, happy, art, world...

2011-01-12T04:35:00.000-08:00

On this wonderful Wednesday I am sharing Where I create my art in my living room and What is on my desk at the moment...

My Emily Martin prints, from The Black Apple, flank both sides of my windows and art table and are ever so encouraging... I got them because they remind me of my daughter and myself... The little girl even has an "O" on her ribbon for ornithology, but, I also adore it because my daughter's name is Olivia... (Don't you adore my little Alice painting from the dear and wondrous, Lauren at Fair Rosamunde?)

It is a messy, inspiring, place for me most of the time... I have my Patience Brewster cards out and my Kelly Rae Roberts fairy and Anahata's lovely maid help me be brave. hmm...what else? my pocket watch to keep time... My gifts from my friend, Joanna Rowan Mullane sit where I can see them each day... My Moonstar darling loves to look on from the fireplace mantle...I am playing with Copic markers and loving the softness as they fill in xeroxes of my originals...
I love my Georgianna Lane calendar and my little sailboat girl, above, in the second photo, by my dear friend, Monica Zuniga... I have my gorgeous castle tag from the sweet Anita at Castles, Crowns, and Cottages in my very favorite, pink, bowl. My Crankbunny scissors tell me to "Cut it out!" when I am feeling down. I switch out art from friends on my table, so one day, one of Rena Askeys prints will be out or the darling Rima Staines... it is like inviting them to play with me here at my desk where creativity, messes, light and laughter are always welcome. I am happiest here. Thanks for stopping by.

'Tis a gift to be simple, and my neighbors are simply the best...

2011-01-10T06:55:00.001-08:00

I dedicate this post to my dream neighbors.

They are like the brother and sister this only child always wished for... generous,

patient with the projects half done...

and things left out, knowing it won't always be a mess.

The coffee house in our little town is a haven for all of us and my neighbors gifted us a lovely certificate for coffees and books. I dream of sitting by the hydrangeas with Mary, in my garden terrace with our coffees, while Alan brings out a book he is excited to show us... What a joy, a simple gift, to have neighbors with such kindness, intelligence and patience. I am grateful

for the light they share and the smiles and sparkles they bring into our lives.

In the white ghost dusting...

2011-01-07T11:49:00.000-08:00

you

left

your

wand...

Somedays I just need a little floaty balloon...

2011-01-05T05:29:00.000-08:00

"Nothing ever comes when scarcity is believed to reign..." ~Amy

2011-01-04T08:20:00.000-08:00

I see only love and charity even with a weary heart...

In The Grimm Brothers' tale, "The Girl Without Hands" the father believes in scarcity. He believes he cannot have if others have and fear reigns his decisions. "I will not survive if I don't take from you. I must sacrifice part of you to find my gain. I cannot make my way if I let others have their possibilities." These are the types of thoughts that must have been part of his mind to make the decisions he made. Only after some have all they think they need to they give love, money, comfort in a charitable way. It is a fairytale with horror and lack of belief in the abundance of this world. I write my life's fairytale in a very different way. I have lack. I have abundant times, too. I have dreams. I have despair creep, too. But, what I write on my page of life is this... I will always see the story as abundant. I know that life is. I can't sacrifice when weary of heart. That is when I must believe the most. I shall write my fairytale from the calm belief of the girl without hands, I will understand others' belief in scarcity, and have compassion for the way they write it out. For if you believe you must not help others to help yourself or sacrifice to gain your own favor, your fruits sour in your hand and scarcity of hope and dreams will play itself out. I will in lack or in riches live out my days exactly how I have... open and giving and joyous for others' success. For in rejoicing in others' joys one sees how they wrote with the sparkling glass quill of faith their story and how they dipped into their abundant possibility and wrote hope...

"I cannot be awake, for nothing looks to me as it did before, or else I am awake for the first time, and all before has been a mean sleep."~Whitman

2011-01-02T05:51:00.000-08:00

"I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, but I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

There was never any more inception than there is now, nor any more youth or age than there is now, and will never be any more perfection than there is now, nor any more heaven or hell than there is now."~Whitman

Such is the magic of a new year... we become so much more conscious of the faerytale of us... the faerytale of now... and it glows with found possibility... for one only sees what one is capable of in conscious moments of now... Enjoy your now and what you find.

Altered art painting by Amy Sperry Faldet for The Brothers Grimm faerytale, "The Pink," which is about patience, trust and the moral is to slow the reactions to what one perceives is truth.

"We are perfect, before, during and after the thoughts that tell us we are not."~Amy Sperry Faldet

2010-12-27T06:27:00.000-08:00

"We are joy, before, during, and after the thoughts that tell us we are not." ~ Amy Sperry Faldet

Part of understanding your faerytale is taking the reigns, looking at the horizon, recognizing the mountains you must climb and taking the steps towards, well, towards it all... but none of that would happen or even manifest in your mind if you forget that you are on this perfect journey, before, during, and after the thoughts that tell you you are not. We are choosing every moment, yes, but, we are just perfect during it all, we just forget. I forget.

The pictures above are just a couple with my kids at one of those booths that sketch you while you are sitting there and a picture of myself on a hayride with my kids. (By the way, thanks Vanessa Valencia for that inspiration!) I am in love with the giggly way we get in those booths. We didn't care about how we looked we just were perfect because we were about to burst with joy, courage, and giddyness! My New Year's resolution is to embrace that feeling and channel the thoughts that encourage perfect joy. I would like them at my side sitting on my art desk to dip my fingers in when doubt comes to call. I tell my children these quotes of mine; I believe them, they are mine after all, (....a hee hee moment, sorry laughing at myself, a common past time.) But, I want to live it, breathe it, know it like a friend in a faerytale, loyal, on the path with me. I am re-reading A Circle of Quiet by Madeleine L'Engle, it is my favorite book, really, just seems to always be all I need at different times of my life and it is like it changes as I change... I have re-read books and not felt so engaged in them as I was when 20 or 30, etc. but this book is ageless and strangely age-appropos at the same time for me. hmmm... I digress... Anyway, I needed a circle of quiet, spiritually, this week for I am envisioning my journey led by the heart. It is a journey that needs me to be true, fearless, kind, patient in my art and sending my light out into the world to shine sweetly on people when they need a circle of quiet. I know the thoughts that say, your little art doesn't shed such light as this of which you dream. I know those thoughts... but those thoughts are not the thoughts I encourage. Those thoughts are not the thoughts that accompany me and my little boys as we raucously jump into the sketch machine booth with sparkles and mischief in our eyes! So, those thoughts will stay home with the hobbits that are long of face and with eyes laced with suspicious crinkles at the corners. They are not coming on my journey of light. For, I am perfect before, during, and after the thoughts that tell me I am not.

The world is a place of uncertainty, but, I remember this quote by L'Engle

"Our truest response to the irrationality of the world is to paint or write or sing, for only in such response do we find truth." ~Madeleine l'Engle

"Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches...

2010-12-23T16:56:00.000-08:00

and gaily colored pictures such as she had seen in the shop windows... the lights looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher; she saw them now as stars in heaven...

Blessings and faerytales from my home to yours...

Soul Sisters... stand still a moment today... just a moment of stillness...

2010-12-21T06:24:00.000-08:00

Solstice is derived from two Latin words, "sol" meaning sun and "sistere" meaning to stand still. It is our time to reflect on the year behind us. To look at the fears we had. To look at the chances we took. To look at those we lost. To look at the joy we scattered and know that we are strong enough... fearless enough to walk through the portal into the next year. So stand still for a moment today and reflect... be fearless... for you are your own sun... you are someone's sun... and you shine so bright. Love to all of you...

("Fearless" mixed media painting by Amy Sperry Faldet)