Sand and sky

It was after Labor Day, and she was on the beach. In her swimsuit. Her mother would have been horrified; when she was growing up in New York, swimsuits were banished the day after Labor Day. She remembered swimming all day long, trying to store up enough of the slippery cool wetness and hot sun on her back to last a whole winter.

Not that winter started the day after Labor Day; nope, even in New York there were lots of warm days left after Labor Day. The lake stayed warm and inviting right into October, some years. But no one went swimming after Labor Day. Not ever. And, after awhile, she'd stopped asking why, stopped trying to argue her swimsuit back down from the attic, and absorbed the rule into her own way of looking at the world.

There was no swimming after Labor Day.

But here, on the California Coast, they didn't seem to know that rule. She wasn't alone on the beach; there were lots of other people basking in the sun and cavorting in the waves. Toddlers building sand castles with their young mothers; older couples walking hand in hand on the hard sand; single people, like her, their towels and cell phones marking their boundaries and connections to the real world. She made circles in the sand with her big toe for awhile, checked her messages; then, self-consciously, got up and strolled down to the ocean.

Looking furtively around for any sign of her childhood, she defiantly waded into the surf.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

14k gold-filled chain maille, seed beads, and lampwork beads by Melissa Vess of Inner Realm Creations. Hand fabricated, bead embroidery princess length necklace.

Crazy Quilt

Hand made things had to be useful on a farm in North Dakota in the early 1900s; like so many other women of her generation, Mary Jane McFadden spent her time making quilts and clothing to keep her children warm. But as the children grew, as the boys left home and the girls learned to sew their own clothes, her heart yearned to make something pretty; something that was every bit as decorative as it was useful.

All her life, she'd saved scraps; bits of wool and cotton, mostly, but here and there a piece of velvet, satin or silk had come her way. As she sorted through them, she found remnants of the dress Pearl took her first steps in, Effie's high school graduation gown (the first in her family to finish high school), generations of trousers for the boys, and her own wedding dress.

She took out the largest pieces of muslin she could find, and began piecing a crazy quilt on them. On it, she appliqued initials and other symbols that held special meanings for her; she used every scrap of beauty that had ever come her way. Although she died before she finished her quilt of many colors, it was a labor of love, done just to please her own eyes.

Many, many years later, when little Effie was a grandmother herself, she gave the unfinished quilt to her eldest granddaughter. They worked on it together; carefully finishing the quilting with fancy embroidery stitches and repairing the frayed edges with scraps from their own lives.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, iolite, citrine, freshwater pearls, and seed bead embroidered collar with lampwork by Lisa Atchison of Touch of Glass Designs. Hand fabricated.

Galapagos

It was her secret, the place imagination carried her whenever life was too much to handle. She had no idea what it was really like; it was the idea of it that charmed her, and she'd never had any interest in finding out anything more about it than what she'd learned in the fourth grade.

The Galapagos islands: Isolated. Untouched. Protected from time and civilization.

She leaned back and let the dust of her day disappear into a sandy beach, where giant tortoises basked in the sun, and curious birds had no fear of her presence.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Gail Kops of Beadles. Hand fabricated.

Animal Magnetism

"This'll make their eyes pop," she whispered to her own reflection as she held up the clothes she was about to put on. She turned sideways to the mirror, patted her tummy, and satisfied herself that it was flat enough. She turned a bit more, tightening her muscles; yup, she still had it. Well, as long as she remembered to squeeze, she still had it. Okay, okay, she still had enough of it.

It had been a long time since she'd gone out on a real date; she wasn't sure she knew the rules anymore. She gave herself a mental shake; what did rules matter? She'd just make up her own and that was that. A little attitude would take her as far as she needed to go.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

14k gold-filled, sterling silver, lampwork by Donna Millard of Fyrebeadz. Hand fabricated.

Frozen Flight

It had been well below freezing for more than a week when she finally took out her old skates and cleaned the blades; she had not been on the ice since she was a girl, yet her mother had kept them. She'd seen them in the hall closet when she hung up her coat; every time she opened that door, they winked at her. It was not a trick of the light; those skates actually winked.

Someone had already swept the snow from the ice, creating a large oval arena; she noticed a few holes further out where fishermen had drilled; the ice was obviously thick enough for them. Nevertheless, hearing her father's voice in her head, she picked up the largest stone she could manage and dropped it onto the ice about a foot from the edge of the lake. If the edges held, the ice was still strong. No cracks.

She brushed some snow off a bench and began to lace up her skates. Her fingers moved quickly, strong and sure; they remembered. She stood up awkwardly, a little nervous, and stepped gingerly onto the ice. She stood there, waiting for something, and then took a tentative baby step. Before she could talk herself out of it, her knees bent and her legs moved in a deeply buried, nearly instinctual way; carrying her out across the lake.

Eyes bright, she flew.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Robin of Something New 4 You. Hand fabricated.

Tamesa Aestuarium

The river Thames ran long before we came, and it will run long after we leave. It has run under many names; its waters have nourished and carried many people, from well before recorded time until now; there is no reason to think it will not see many more generations.

It is an estuary; the river flows into the North Sea and the sea rises in turn to meet it. Its tides have brought people from many lands to its shores. Beneath the river lies the evidence of many lives; tesserae from the Roman occupation joins the skeletons of fish consumed in Celtic times and create homes for the peculiar denizens of the brackish waters.

They keep their own counsel, these waters; they have seen the rise and fall of more than one civilization.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Donna Millard of Fyrebeadz. Hand fabricated.

Londinium

She loved to lose herself in museums, and the Museum of London was ideal for that purpose. More than any other she'd found, it let her disappear into another time in this very place. Between groups of schoolchildren, she imagined peeling back the layers of asphalt, dirt, stone and mortar that was London today and walking on the mosaic floors that were hidden from view, virtually everywhere in this city.

But the more things change, the more they remain the same; romantic fancies aside, she knew that this very spot, where bits of Hadrian's wall still stood, was every bit the business center then that it was today. She grinned ruefully; no doubt it would be just as hard to find a late supper downtown, regardless of the time she found herself in.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Donna Millard of Fyrebeadz. Hand fabricated.

Love me, love me knot

She wasn't ordinary. She had a style all her own, and had lived a life that was an inspiration to the girls and women who had known her. Her humor and her creativity were her legacy; her granddaughter thanked her silently as she worked, grateful for the gift of letting the work lead her to its own conclusion, thankful for permission to happily make changes midstream and follow the flow of the design as she worked.

Her granddaughter hadn't been born with that ability; oh, no, quite the contrary. As a young girl, she'd wanted to make things do what she wanted them to do, and she'd been quite humorless about it when they didn't cooperate. It hadn't been easy for her to accept her grandmother's easy attitude toward changing things; she'd struggled and tried to force fabric and thread to bend to her will. She could not laugh about failure at all.

It was only in her later years that she appreciated her gift.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Donna Millard, freshwater pearls, czech glass. Hand fabricated. In the private collection of Ida Newcomer.

Hello again

He looked familiar, but not totally so. Perhaps he just reminded here of someone she knew, but she couldn't quite put her finger on who it might be. She had the oddest feeling that she'd known him well; but, if that were the case, surely she'd remember.

Nope, better just forget about it; she was far from home and the chances of running into someone she knew were slim to nonexistent. She was probably just projecting her homesickness onto the most attractive man in the room.

She glanced around the room again; yup, he was definitely the best looking man there. Did it really matter if she knew him or not? She wanted to know him now. She walked over to his table before she could change her mind.

"Hello, again!" She said, merrily. "Remember me?"

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Glass and Splinters Lampwork Art. Hand fabricated.

Angels Unaware

She hated the old pump; hated the way it froze up; hated going outside to fetch water every time she needed some. She'd heard of people rich enough to have water piped right into the house; she'd heard that all they had to do was turn a knob and watch that water pour out, never stopping until the knob was turned back the other way. She wasn't sure she believed it, but oh, she wanted to. Just once in her life, she'd like to turn a knob and have water pour out; she wouldn't turn it back the other way, oh, no, she'd let that water pour in until it filled the house. What an idea!

She laughed at her own fancy as she lifted the buckets and headed back toward the house; she saw the men, working hard in the fields behind the house, and she quickened her step. The dishes would wait, and she could always pump more water.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, aquamarine, lampwork by Gail Kops of Beadles. Hand fabricated.

Pilgrim's Progression

Christianne automatically leaned to the left as her overloaded handbag began to slip off her right shoulder; she caught it in the crook of her arm with a jerk that would have made her lurch into the woman in front of her if she hadn't already counter-balanced herself. She took advantage of the moment to rub her shoulder ruefully; the bag had worn such a groove, it was amazing that it ever slipped off. Her husband always wondered if she had bricks in there; she wasn't sure why it was so heavy, but she was quite certain that there wasn't anything in there that she could live without.

When it was her turn, she rummaged in her bag, found her wallet and paid for her purchases. She added the new bags to the ones she was already carrying; re-shouldered her handbag, and went on her way.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Donna Millard of Fyrebeadz. Hand fabricated.

Leaf Frost

Fall lingered late this year; the leaves turned very slowly and took their own time leaving the trees. Our first snow came long before the leaves fell, just an early morning dusting, but the backdrop of red, orange and yellow made the fat flakes look very exotic and unexpected.

It melted before I thought to take a photograph; but even now, when all the leaves have fallen, I will picture them behind the next snowfall.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver and lampwork earrings. Hand fabricated.

Slings and Arrows

"Time to do battle," she thought grimly, and dressed accordingly. Nothing weak or uncomfortable would do; no high heels, nothing that would need adjusting or have to be accounted for; thongs and dangly earrings were out, out, out today. She would be completely, totally, prepared.

No matter what.

She synchronized her watch with the clock on the microwave; it wouldn't do to be late. Being caught unaware gave her opponents too much advantage; she calculated that she had ten or twelve minutes to spare. Her coffee cup was still in the microwave from this morning when she'd punched "reheat" and forgotten about it; she punched it again and vowed to remember this time.

Dang it. The bus was early today. Her teenagers were home.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Copper and lampwork bracelet. Hand fabricated with a heat patina.

Searching for hope

It was the dust, more than anything, that wore us out. It coated everything. Even the water we sipped got muddied from the dust on our lips. We held out as long as we could; cursing the sky when the promise of rain was delivered to other parts, the clouds building, and then vanishing, before our very eyes.

Every day we woke up to find more people gone. It seemed they'd decided at bedtime and took off before the sun rose, too worn out to stay, and too embarrassed to say goodbye. We didn't fully understand until it was our turn. We left the same way they had, the pre-dawn darkness hiding our shame, the truck filled to bursting with household goods and children.

We vowed not to stop until the land gave us flowers.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Melissa Vess of Inner Realm Creations. Hand fabricated.

Summer Skies

The sky is heavy today; winter is coming, and although it is not cold enough, the clouds look like they hold snow. Summer is a pleasant memory; I have lost the oppressiveness of heat and humidity and only remember the deep turquoise of the summer sky as thunderclouds build for an afternoon storm. The summer sky of my memory isn't this sky, uniformly heavy and pale grey; it is a dramatic and noisy sky, demanding and receiving attention as we gather up our towels, find the lost sand toys, and scurry back home before the storm breaks.

That summer sky is from such a long time ago; my children were small, then, and summer stretched out for months and months ahead and behind us. We went to the beach every day under that summer sky, and we knew its pattern as well as well as we knew our own swim-suited bodies. We lived by its rhythm.

Today's sky asks for nothing.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Bracelet; sterling silver, amazonite, lampwork by Gail Kops of Beadles. Hand fabricated.

Glacier Lakes

I had been climbing for hours and there was still a lot of mountain in front of me. I had been promised a great view from the summit, but I seriously doubted I would get there. I raised my hand to shade my eyes, tipped my head back, and looked up. Way up.

I ran through the entire motion, backwards, and looked down at where I'd been. I looked at my watch and did a little mental math. I couldn't fool myself into believing that I could significantly pick up my pace; the climbing was getting harder, not easier. And even if I pretended that I could come down the mountain at four times the speed I'd gone up, I was not going to make it. Not before midnight; and, even though the trail was excellent, and well-marked for beginners like me, I was not keen to be going down the mountain in any sort of dark, let alone pitch dark.

I looked around; it was too early to give up and head back now; but going forward just to fill the time seemed pointless. Aha. A trail marked in blue branched off the the right; that would do.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Earrings; sterling silver, lampwork by Gail Kops of Beadles. Hand fabricated.

Eclipse

I'd gotten to the point where the reflections in the water seemed more real to me than what was being reflected. It was, after all, just a simple paradigm shift; a trick of perception; a game I played and, depending on how you considered the outcome, lost or won.

Such a strange mirror; the water deepened the color of the sky, and, where it slid over boulders it obscured things with frothy bubbles that shimmered and made the world look even more abstract than usual. I realized suddenly that I preferred the reflection to reality; its fluid dance swiftly eclipsed the staid, solid world and replaced darkness with its own light.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, amazonite, lampwork by Melissa Vess of Inner Realm Creations. Hand fabricated.

Soul of the earth

How deep must I dig before I find something? I couldn't let that thought stay; I had to keep scratching up the earth beneath me, my mind empty and my hands full. I will break up and move this ground, inch by inch if need be, until I find it.

That's the kind of person I am. I don't give up easily, I'm not afraid of working hard or being bored. Honestly, sometimes, I just don't know how to leave well enough alone. It isn't my imagination (or at least I hope it isn't my imagination, I'm tired enough to hallucinate, honestly I am); there is a flash of light and color there, or there was, until something moved; I don't see it right now, but that doesn't mean it wasn't there, does it?

I will keep digging until I see it again.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Bracelet; sterling silver, faceted jelly opal, lampwork by Gail Kops of Beadles. Hand fabricated.

Heart's Ease

Stop Abuse


It's going on 15 years now; for the first five, he invaded my sleep and I would wake up struggling to breathe, the feeling of his hands on my throat more real than the 2500 miles I'd put between us. When I went, I left without a forwarding address. It seemed utterly unreal and dramatic; swearing my family and friends to secrecy and taking off for the opposite side of the country. I'd never lived more than 25 miles from where I was born, and suddenly I'd multiplied that by 100.

It took me ten years to leave. Looking back, there were warning signs, but they were easily explained away. He always apologized; he never knew beforehand that I was going to get upset; he was just a bit clueless. He was frustrated at work, he wasn't getting anywhere, and he was always so sorry when he brought his anger home with him. He drank too much, but he was an easy drunk. He just fell asleep, and truth be told, I encouraged him to drink; he was happier when he drank. Usually. And on the occasions when he wasn't, it was easy for me to understand. He was drunk. He didn't know what he was doing.

He never knew what he was doing, not even the night he sat on my stomach, pinned my arms to the bed with his knees, put his hands around my throat, and squeezed. He was screaming. I could not understand a word he was saying. That was what bothered me the most; I was going to die and I didn't know what I'd done to deserve it. Our dog knocked him off and saved my life. He swore he was asleep, having a nightmare about being attacked, and I wanted to believe him. He'd always walked and talked in his sleep, and he was quite horrified at what had happened. When the nightmare returned a few weeks later, bearing a large kitchen knife, I finally woke up.

After I left, I overcompensated by being hyper-sensitive to anything that reminded me of him; I still have buttons that get pushed from time to time. I'm working on that. Getting out was the best, and hardest, thing I ever did. I'm proud of that.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Necklace; sterling silver, sapphires, lampwork by Gail Kops of Beadles. Hand fabricated.

Lime Rickey

She perched on the stool, crossed her ankles delicately, and said, "Lime Rickey, please," when the counterman appeared in front of her. He winked, and she gave him an icy glare.

He set her drink down with a flourish, and she busied herself with it; pretending that she was drinking a real cocktail at the Jockey Club in Manhattan, instead of this overly sweet version at a drugstore in North Hollywood. In her mind's eye, her pale pink twin sweater set and matching skirt turned into a black cocktail dress - Dior's New Look - and the counterman's shaker left off making milkshakes, and switched over to martinis.

She inclined her head gracefully as literary critics congratulated her on her latest novel.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Melissa Vess of Inner Realm Creations. Hand fabricated.

In private collection