in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
it’s
spring
and
the
goat-footed
balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee
e.e. cummings

I took these photos on Appledore Island last June.

We took a boat from Seabrook, my mother and I, to visit Celia's Garden ~~ Celia Thaxter, that is. The garden is maintained by the loving hands of seacoast women who regularly travel the 9 miles out to sea to re-create and care for Celia's Garden. They've returned it to the original design and plan and beauty just in front of where her house once stood.

It was mid-June when we took this little excursion to the 19th century: peaceful & quiet; antique buildings; boats moored and moving; lobstermen tending their traps. No cars, radios, TVs. No newspapers. No cellphones. Only the birds, bees, sky above and thoughts within. Other visitor's recognize and respect that this is a retreat for the soul.

These nine Islands are Soul-Making.

We were celebrating my mother's 82nd birthday all that week. Enjoying her company. She joined us in strawberry picking in Hampton Falls. We went shopping and out to lunch; Larry took us out for dinner sampling new restaurants along the coast. Feasted on lobster.

The day we went to Appledore was warm. A picture perfect day with lots of early summer flowers a-bloom in the garden.

Today, tho' only April, is reminiscent of that June day. Our little gardens are awash of pastel today with daffodils and hyacinth, tulips on the way and poppies budding. And the fragrance of hyacinth. As scent-ful as lilacs.

What delight after the long winter days of New England.

On a practical note. My car is in the shop for the day. Larry and his Dad are on their way to Boston's City Hall Plaza to see the circus (wow! it must be spring!). I am on my way to my studio.

My little trip to the studio is to clean-sweep winter's clutter. I cannot work in clutter, need large empty spaces and things put away in their rightful spots and easily found when I reach for them. Today, this does not describe my little studio. But this is day 3 of the effort and perhaps by evening the description will be apt. And I can work again.

I recently finished a small project. But not in the studio. In my kitchen with many starts and stops: a fabric collage intended for beaded embellishment. My kitchen table was conducive to the work but even the cleared space did not alleviate the self-doubts as I picked out beads and re-sewed them.

I hate the self-doubting: Is it good? Enough? A good design? Does it work? Will it work? Should I abandon the project? Is it finished? How will I know? I hate it but I persist in doubting. Why?

And finally it is done. I know it. It is hung in a small show and when I saw it hung, was mostly pleased.

Then all the way home I am re-designing for "next time". And what if I had.......