The Brightness in October

I pressed these little weed flowers in a heavy book, and have started painting them. I finished a blog banner and have started on another one. (They will make an appearance after I'm tired of the flowers you see above.) I'm still journaling. It has been a little helpful. I have simply not been myself since coming home. Life feels very different since Lorien's death. I am in a slump of some kind and cannot seem to see everything as I used to. Life feels different, perhaps because one of us - a very dear one - is elsewhere, and this world is depleted, deflated. I find myself thinking of her and of our family out there, all day long. I pray a lot. I do not grieve hopelessly; I believe Lorien is with Jesus, in heaven, and we'll all be together again after this world is gone. And I'm not angry about it. It's a cloud of some sort -- I don't want to say gloom or sadness, but it has slowed me down, silenced me.

 I'm painting pumpkins and pecans. I ought to be writing and playing the piano, but they don't soothe me as painting does.
And I'm sipping tea.

 A lady came to the farmer's market and liked my wreath weaving (remember it?) -

 - but she didn't have room for the whole wreath. So I'm weaving her something similar, but on a grapevine twig. I found the right twig:

 Now I just need to get on with the weaving! 
Happily, I am reading this lovely book by Elizabeth Goudge, The Scent of Water. So many of you dear ladies have recommended it, and I'm loving every single word.

I was using that silly cocktail napkin as a bookmark. The dog reminds me of Beau. But I just painted up a better bookmark with a book and pages and letters falling from it.

The copy of the book I bought used online. It's old, and the pages are frail and crumble on their edges. Isn't it nearly miraculous that such a humble object can contain an entire world from one human's mind, and transfer it to all of us? That people's lives and mistakes and secrets and homes are all held within such a flimsy binding? Is it any wonder books are so wonderful to us, so mysterious?

On Saturday I'll be a craft vendor at Oriental's Ol' Front Porch Music Festival, a town event that has exploded in size and popularity in the past three years. I've been making scarves, lotions and salves, and wrapping lots of soap this week. Hopefully lots of people will come ready to buy! I want them to think: "Oh, what perfect Christmas presents!" and pat themselves on their backs for buying early :)

Thank you, dear readers, for stopping by. I am trying to find a brightness in October that has dimmed for me. Its beauty is all there, out my window. It's my eyes that are dim.