The STUFF Sisters - Found Objects

Sanctuary

I feel an overwhelming and powerful inner peace when I am where the ocean meets the land. It is my place of worship. It is my church. It is where Mother Nature is the most accessible to me.

Last week I found myself on a beach in February. A rare occasion for me in the dead of winter. I was there because my father has cancer and there is a new challenge to face. I traveled to be with him when he met with yet another cancer specialist. Something that we have done together as a family many, many times before and in many cities.

I didn’t bring a swimsuit or any of my beach gear. I didn’t plan to be on the beach more than a handful of minutes. I told myself that one long walk was all I needed.

When the time was right, I took my walk and headed “up island” (as it is called by the islanders). I kept my eyes on the water as I walked. I didn’t look around. I just listened and watched the waves. I wanted no distractions.

On my return “down island”, I again kept my head turned to the ocean. I found a spot at the water’s edge and kneeled down. I said what I needed to say. I did my best to lay down my fear, pain, and sadness. Mother Nature and the waves listened.

I continued my walk, slowing heading back to the house. Again, eyes on the water.

The tide came in stronger unexpectedly and I ran onto dry ground. As I did, I turned to look at the low slung dunes. The most beautiful sight was right before my eyes. A crude collection of broken shells hung from barren branches. I had walked past it on my journey North. I must not have been ready to feel it or see it when I began my walk. Only on my return did I discover this special spot.

I felt like I had entered a sanctuary. It was mystical and magical. Built by many, for anyone to share. I just explored it without touching anything. I looked into the branches from all angles. I listened to the sound of the waves and how the wind made some of the shells clatter. I sat down and looked up into the branches. I found a spot where I could see both the hanging shells and the water. I sat still and just took deep healing breaths. Before I stood, I thanked Mother Nature for answering my prayers so quickly.

I walked back to my family.

Casey

Note: Only as I started to see the path that leads off the beach did I remember I had my phone hidden with my shoes near the base of a tree. I grabbed it and ran back to take the photos you see in my post. I was thankful I didn’t have it when I came upon it the first time. I had picked up a few broken shells on my walk, I added them to the branches.

I did sneak back out for a sunset the next evening and one last visit to my special place.

A Day Dream Made of Glass

I was shelling on a beach yesterday. I kept finding bits of plastic – a lid, part of a pail, a grocery sack – and it struck me, what would happen

I was shelling on a beach yesterday. I kept finding bits of plastic – a lid, part of a pail, a grocery sack – and it struck me, what would happen if manufacturers woke up one day and stopped making plastic items? Just simply stopped.

I am pretty sure that the world would not come to its demise. Actually, it may even slow our demise. Although the reports I read tell a grim tale of how it is too late.

I like my food, drinks and such in glass. It seems more civilized somehow. But, I am bit old fashioned.

It was a passing day dream. I kept walking in the waves picking up gifts of nature that I collect, take home and sort into glass jars.

PS. Any item needed in the medical world made from plastic makes sense. But, prescription bottles could be glass.

PPS. I have stated very clearly that when I die my shell collection should be returned to Mother Ocean (after my daughter chooses what to keep of course).

Sculptor Fred Conlon is just a Big Kid at Heart

Fred Conlon is a comic genius. Seriously…check out these new pieces…

Fred Conlon is a comic genius. Seriously…check out these new pieces by our hug-a-bug friend and creative force, Fred Conlon.

He works with scrap metal to up-cycle junk into his playful sculptures.

I look at these pieces and just break into a smile…with a touch of a little giggle.

His attention to detail makes each piece one-of-a-kind. I want them all over my courtyards at home. I am a “why own one when you can own them all?” kind of girl…but where to start? Collecting is about a beginning with one.

Which one would you buy first?

New Works Arrive by Catherine Weitzman

Today I was thrilled to take photos of new Catherine Weitzman pieces. Her work is incredible. She lives in Hawaii. (Yes, I am jealous.)…

Today I was thrilled to take photos of new Catherine Weitzman pieces. Her work is incredible. She lives in Hawaii. (Yes, I am jealous.) Her work is inspired by the nature that surrounds. She often uses actual leaves, twigs and wildlife finds to cast her designs. Like this necklace.

I also love how she turns little stones and gold into these soft, flowing earrings. They feel amazing in your hands. They are delicate and playful.

This is a new and very interesting combination. Amethyst and aquamarine set in gold vermeil. I like the little gold faceted beads at the top of the stones. It’s the little touches that make her work special.

I would enjoy owning any (or all) of these pieces. But, I must share. So…they are at the store waiting for you.

Stacking Stones

This past November, I found myself unexpectedly and briefly on the beach…

This past November, I found myself unexpectedly and briefly on the beach in Montauk, New York, for a couple hours. My friend and I came across some stacked stones. I think stacked stones are magical. And I have played with stacking myself.

These unexpected temporary sculptures are the combination of an artist’s desire to create something beautiful and some gifts of nature. Which makes them magical to me.

I took these photos with my phone with the Instagram app. I dig Instagram and would love to see your photos, too. So…find me…caseysimmonsloveswaves and let’s become Instagram buddies.

Instagram #4 – New York City

Tonight we headed down to SoHo for dinner and a long post-dinner stroll. I adore New York City at night…

Tonight we headed down to SoHo for dinner and a long post-dinner stroll. I adore New York City at night. You could roam the streets for hours and hours on end. The August weather this year is mild and soft. There was almost a chill in the air as we walked. I did not want the night to end. These images were taken during our wandering.

: Bike tire in a tree in SoHo, New York – 2012

Instagram #2

I wrote recently that I am pretty smitten with Instagram. Here is my second Instagram photo blog. These images are from our summer vacation to the beach in Florida. Sorry it took a while. My life kind of ran amok recently.

The Past as Present

I have been coming to the beach in Florida on average once a year for 9 years. I’m lucky. I have firsthand knowledge of the healing powers of the surf and the sun. I can feel it on my skin and in my soul.

Hunting for shells is a part of life on the island we visit. It juts out from the southern tip of Tampa Bay and collects some real doozies from the Gulf of Mexico. I have the patience for looking for shells, and I find the work cathartic. But I’m not good at it. I have been laughed at for what I bring back and what I find beautiful, but it rolls off of me and I care little. Shelling is a private endeavor, and others need not really know too much.

I have excelled at acting like Madame Cousteau as my son – once little and now not so much – brings me his bounty from the sea. I ooh and ahh and am truly transfixed by his luck in the shallows and on the sand. (Many years ago, I saw a comic in The New Yorker of a young Jacques at the beach. It showed his mother in a beach chair absolutely surrounded by sea life, shells and rocks. The artist had her saying something sweet and alarmingly funny – I have forgotten it, but the image has stuck with me as my son has aged.) This past week, he has brought me miniature wonders and large treasures.

And yesterday – just yesterday! – I realized why I’m not the greatest shell collector. Well, not the greatest collector of perfect shells…why I am drawn to all the shells that are imperfect and broken and damaged. The realization had me looking up from the “shell dump” my son and I were digging in and looking toward the incredible sinking sun as I caught my breath. It had come catapulting through time to strike me straight in the heart.

When I was in the 4th grade, my parents moved us from Des Moines to Kansas City. It was a wee bit hard to join a class mid-year and fit in. Well, I didn’t actually fit in for several more years. I was not chosen for kickball or dodgeball teams. I was not waved over to join a group at a lunch table. I was not picked first for spelling bees or vocabulary teams. It was tough. I was the new kid.

It was well into my 5th grade year when I met the young woman who has remained my best friend to this day. And even then, when she fell in gym and broke her forearm, I was blamed by others because I was near her and fell at the same time. I felt like I was the odd duck and the 5th wheel. I just knew I was imperfect in my classmates’ eyes – broken in some way I could not see in the mirror – and it left me a bit damaged for several years.

This brings us back to the beach and the bounty I carry away and into my home. I have jars on a high shelf in a guest room that house my treasures. I used to be a bit more anal retentive, putting dates and locations on the inside of the lids, but now I mix and match my catches. I will occasionally bring a jar down and place it on my dresser for a few weeks so I can marvel at the different shapes. I can admit to liking the pristine pieces that look like they were purchased at a gift shop, but I mix them liberally with the majority of what I own – odd shells, barnacled shells, broken shells, cracked shells, tips and fragments.

Today I found the shells you see, in the surf up-island from our beach chairs. I dug them out of the sand and clear water, looked at them briefly, and silently told myself to throw them back. They were still been held together by membrane, and one side was barnacled and off-colored, but the other side was nearly perfect and barnacle free. I held it for over a minute while contemplating how these two halves could still be together in the rough and tumble of the sea. One was perfect and one was not. Then, because I knew tossing would damage them, I laid them back gently on the sand in the shallows and walked away.

Ten minutes later, my son joined me where I sat after I had left the flats, and he showed me his many amazing shells, one of which was the pair I had placed back in the sea.

Oui, Madame était très contente.

Sloane

Special note: a “shell dump” is a phrase my sister Casey coined years ago to distinguish regular beach from a section that had a lot of shells collected in it at the last high tide.

Translation: Yes, Madame was very happy.

Pursue Good Stuff goes to Florida

Here is the PURSUE GOOD STUFF travel album from my recent trip to Florida. My sister recently posted an album from Colorado. Like she said, life is about pursuing what is good, ALL that is good. Remember you are not passive…you can pursue good stuff today. That is my goal for the day.

Kayaking in Florida - PURSUE GOOD STUFF — An evening kayak trip.

: Explore by kayak.

: I great place to sit and watch the surf.

PURSUE GOOD STUFF and Fresh Peaches — Fresh Georgia peach. Yum.

: This is the life.

: Find a place to PURSUE GOOD STUFF.

: Beauty is everywhere.

: Sift through your choices in life.

: Boats come is all shapes and sizes.

: Keep your eyes on the horizon.

: Little doesn’t mean small.

: Make friends.

: There is strength in numbers.

: Spark ideas.

Grilled Shrimp with PURSUE GOOD STUFF — Eat well. Grilled Florida shrimp...fresh catch.

: Fresh Florida Mussels – OMG – this is some goooooood stuff folks.

: Steam up the room.

: Walk barefoot in the sand every chance you get.

: White sand, sunshine and nothing planned.

: And, never forget to play.

I will pursue good stuff…today.

Collector

I collect. I am not crazy-freaky and have display cases of Pez characters or anything like that. (I will admit, I love Pez and find them somewhat difficult to resist at checkout lanes, however.) But, I do collect.

I am picky. I don’t just collect items because they fall into a category. I edit and curate. I don’t seek the perfect, re-saleable or considered “collectible” items. I simply collect items for my own pleasure.