Pretty Ribbons

When I was a wee one, at Christmas my great grandmother Alice filled her glass candy dish with ribbon candy and set it out on the end table in the living room. Nana had cheeks soft as a ripe peach and the kindest disposition of any woman ever born into my family (self humbly included).

I loved picking up the heavy lid of that candy dish and smelling the weird comingling of mint, fruit, cinnamon and Pepto-Bismol that those sugary ribbons gave off. Never really cared to eat it, but I knew Santa was circling the neighborhood when the ribbon candy made its annual appearance.

Bittersweet

For the last two days the light wheel on my Polaroid SX-70 has been dialed all the way to "lighten." Because light is curative.

Inches upon inches of rain have fallen on us lately. Anything from the garden that did not rot in place I have snipped and set out on antique linen. Two afternoons (in a row!) of sunshine in the studio windows, and I have a few creamy white prints to show for it. Finally.

Summer Rental

 

For the second year, we returned to a little house that we've come to think of as our island home. Nothing fancy really. Lumpy beds, dull kitchen knives, a broken player piano and lobster traps piled in the dooryard. 

But, there's a collection of 80's vinyl for the turntable, and we can hear the Vinalhaven Ferry fog horn when we're making coffee. No cell service. No internet. No TV. Just the sound of the ocean in the distance and the occasional apple dropping from the tree outside the kitchen window.

Of course, the camera collection was tucked into my tote bag. I gave my new old Polaroid 250 a try with a pack of Fuji instant film.

I'm in love.