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.

Fairy Wife

Once upon a time in fairy land, a mother was busily airing out a tiny house in preparation for the arrival of her daughter and new son-in-law after their wedding trip. She'd opened up the door and all the windows, shaken out the cobweb lace curtains, swept the floor, and made up the bed with the softest dandelion fluff linens imaginable.

She was such a round little thing, as she flitted hither and yon; her iridescent gown sparkled in the sunlight and her golden head and toes shone gaily as she went about her work. Just moments before their arrival she cut a few of the roses that grew around the door and placed them in the foyer on her way out.

She wanted her daughter to start her new life surrounded by love.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, gold-filled beads, jelly opal. Hand fabricated.

Ripples

She sat on the edge of the pond and tossed nuggets of koi food into it; she watched the crisscrossing patterns of the ripples as she sent each lump into a different place. The fish were new, they were hiding from her largesse; they didn't understand that these small missiles that disrupted the surface of their lives were actually sustenance that would nurture them and help them grow.

She leaned back on the bench and felt the morning sun on her face; she closed her eyes briefly and enjoyed the moment. She wished she could just explain things to them, somehow show them her purpose; but they would have to figure it out themselves. She knew that, in time, there would be those who welcomed her with glad hearts; those who followed the others, wishing that they knew what the first seemed to know; and those who stayed forever hidden, fearful of her very existance.

Faith was always a choice.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Gold-filled and tourmaline bracelet. Hand fabricated.

Hidden Fire

It always surprised her to hear people describe her as calm and sensible; she wasn't a bit, and she knew it. But she cultivated it; oh, how she cultivated it. Inside, her temper slashed and burned; she raged against injustice, and wiped out legions with her fury. This battle did not show not on her face; her lips hinted at a smile, always, and her brow was still smooth, even at her age. Her shoulders were relaxed and her stride easy; her voice well modulated and pleasant.

But her eyes gave her away; they flashed with the fire that never left her heart.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Gold, gold-filled, sterling silver, Mexican fire opal in matrix. Hand fabricated.

Fairy House

I'd never found one, though I always looked; even long after I stopped believing in fairies, I still looked. Every wild thicket, every vine that ran rampant held the possibility of hiding a fairy's tiny, intricate house. Would it be woven of pine needles and twigs and bound together with the stamens from flowers? Would fairies use sap and leaves to make their roofs tight? Would she be home, twinkling opal and gold in her tiny doorway?

I never found out, but I still wonder; and now, when I walk with my daughter, she looks for me.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, emerald chips, tourmaline, opal, gold filled beads. Hand fabricated.

Desert Blooms

That first summer in the desert liked to have killed me. The hot, dry air sucked all the moisture right out of my body; I was as light and thin as a piece of tissue paper. I feared I would blow away at the slightest breeze, but there wasn't any to test that theory. From the road, the desert looks as wide and easy to read as an open book; on foot, the words are sharp little ridges of rock, twisting and curving around canyons of sand that shift and steal away what few landmarks there are. I learned to place myself in time and space with every step, lest my bones join the small animal ones that litter the ground, bleached and preserved, lost to eternity.

In autumn, I learned that I was made of sterner stuff. I leaned into the hot dry winds that swept through the arroyos and scoured them into new shapes; the very precariousness of my position kept me upright. As the winter winds turned colder, I leaned harder. They boxed my ears and made them ache; the burning of my ears was the only warmth left in the world. At last, the rains came. They silenced the wind, coming down so hard that the water bounced back off the face of the desert, even as she frantically sucked it in. Water soaked into her pores, filled her wrinkles, and overran them in raging rivers in the space of a few hours.

When the rains stopped, the turbulent waters gave way to slow moving reddish-brown streams, and then dried up altogether, leaving nothing but cracked earth where they had been. As she assimilated it, a fine green film began to spread across the desert, swirling here and there, and the tiniest of flowers sparkled like gold dust. The air was soft and easy to breathe. We were blooming.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Gold filled, lampwork by Glass & Splinters Lampwork, freshwater pearls, vermeil. Hand fabricated.