Notes from the Studio
My dad died in 2010. This both seems like a long time ago, and no time ago. But not “no time” in the sense of a short period of time – more in the sense that it no longer feels like it exists in time. It feels like a fact. He once lived, and he no longer does.
End-of-Summer Reflections in the Soul-Restoring Indiana Garden that Inspired One of Heartell's Most Popular Woodblock Printed Designs
Seeing what the season has brought out into the light or made to wither and fall back again, I feel so comforted by the constancy woven through all the change. Whatever happens elsewhere, the life teeming in that patch of soil and sun and water is always there, held perfectly in balance, each petal and seed exactly where it needs to be, doing its work as part of the whole. There is something wild about blooming no matter where it happens, an impossible unfurling, defying the forces of weather and decay.
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