This month I have a few printmaking things to get done, specifically 2 shows I want to submit to. One of them is a Breast Cancer Awareness show that’s local, and I’m pleased to be involved as breast cancer is a part of my family’s medical history and although I don’t know my own medical history, it’s an important consideration for women of all ages. (Update: I didn’t end up entering this, but still support the cause!!)

Other than printmaking, our lives seem to be suddenly filling up. Summer was slow and glorious, and now that there are cloudy days and bright leaves and kids in school clothes, my calendar has become a bit crowded. So far, I love it. It was such a strange thing to have so much of last winter taken up by Valley Fever, and it feels good to be building a life and community here in Bellingham.

And the leaves are changing. It’s not quite the amazing color of the street where I grew up, where every tree was that transparent yellow-orange that seems to burn in even the slightest bit of sunlight, but it’s wonderful in its own way. And the smell of woodsmoke and pencil shavings, and the sharpness in the night air, and the cool ocean breezes… I feel like a kid again, ready to be thrown by my dad into a six foot pile of crunchy leaves. Ready to put on my brown Mary Janes and kneesocks and head off for school.

This past weekend was our church retreat in Canada, and Daniel and I had such a nice time. To speak to people you had known on the surface, and to suddenly find each other to be so much more than you had imagined… to look at each other then as you might look at a familiar field, when, for the first time after years of broken soil and the brittle yellow ends of dead grass, it grows over in thick profusion with the hopeful red cups of poppies.