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.

Sisters

Sometimes sisters aren't born into a family; sometimes, they find each other later than that. I am fortunate enough to have both kinds; I have sisters whom I waited to see born, and sisters whom I have met in all stages of my life.

Sisters who accepted and loved me as a lonely and awkward teen; sisters who counseled and comforted me in the early, very scary, days of being a mom. Sisters who have tested my faith; and sisters who have carried me when my faith was low. I have sisters who share the day to day minutia of my life, and sisters who can be counted on to drop everything to be there when I need them.

The older I get, the more I appreciate my sisters. These are the women who know me and love me just as I am; the women who listen to me without judging me; the women who lift me up and let me cherish them. I would not be here without you; always remember that.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Bead embroidery collar on leather, with seed beads, turquoise, amber, myrrh, pearls and copper. Cherry wood cabochon inlaid with turquoise by TazWood Finely Turned Creations. Hand fabricated.

Take the Plunge

Marti took a deep breath and jumped. She knew that if she thought about it, she'd find reasons not to do it, and, right now, she wanted to do it. She felt the water close over her head, and she pushed her panic away. It would be okay. She would make it okay.

How could she explain this feeling when she didn't really understand it herself? The rush of giving herself up to the moment; the exhilaration of just acting, without always thinking about thinking things through. It was the only thing she trusted, and if it let her down, well, she'd deal with the fallout. She had to have this escape; she couldn't be expected to control everything all the time.

Just as she felt that her lungs would surely burst, she surfaced. Safe again.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads, sterling silver, and vintage glass cabochons in a princess length necklace. Hand fabricated; bead weaving and chain maille.

I'm a Fossil

Fifty. How did I get to be fifty? It seems only yesterday that I was in my twenties, or at least, thirty-something. I didn't notice the changes as they happened; it still startles me sometimes to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. That's not what I look like! I'm so much younger than that.

But there it is: In ten days, I'll be fifty.

Half a century behind me. If genetics hold true, I have a good chance of seeing another half-century. But even if I'm past the half-way mark, it's been a good run. I've seen, done, and learned a lot in the past fifty years. And, God-willing, I'll have a lot more to learn, see, and do in the next fifty.

This necklace is my birthday present to me.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Ammonite, gold-filled, seed beads, vintage bugle beads, keishi pearls. Hand fabricated.

Yei Laughs

The sun was just peeking over the hills as she opened the door; she smiled and acknowledged the serendipity of timing that had come to earmark this trip. She spent a moment in silent prayer, thankful for the pleasure the sunrise had given her. The air was crisp and cold, but the sun would warm the earth very quickly. She would not need a jacket.

She was suddenly, ravenously, hungry. Huevos Rancheros, beans, tortillas and cup after cup of hot coffee; she could eat a cowboy under the table this morning. There was a place just down the street, and she had a funny feeling that they would be unlocking the door just about now.

They were.

She grinned, delighted with life and looking forward to breakfast.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, turquoise inlaid cherry burl cabochon by TazWood Finely Turned Creations, turquoise, onyx, coral, seed and bugle beads. Hand fabricated 16" necklace.

In the private collection of Linda Winsor

Early Spring

It happened so suddenly; one day it was still winter, dull and grey, and the next morning everything was turning green. Leaves unfurled before the sun rose, and forsythia and daffodils trumpeted bright yellow notes under blue, blue skies.

Spring green is like no other; it has a freshness that no other season can duplicate. The world looks scrubbed clean and freshly painted. Later in the year, the garden will be thicker and very, very lush; but never again will it be such a wonderful shade of green.

Winter is finally over.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Vintage glass chatons, seed beads, 14k gold-filled accents. Hand fabricated princess length necklace.

In the private collection of Claudia Newcomer

Dawning of a New Hope

Hope went to the window and looked out, not seeing the garden or the new leaves unfurling; lost in her own thoughts and memories. Her lessons had been hard and painfully learned; she understood the consequences, though they were very nearly more than she could bear.

"Just one more chance," she prayed, "please, Lord, just one more chance."

"Trust Me."

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

14 carat gold-filled, modern and vintage glass beads, wooden Purpleheart cabochon by Joan Jensen of TazWood Finely Turned Creations. Hand fabricated, bead weaving and chain maille princess-length necklace.

*Available for purchase through TazWood Creations*

A Ribbon of Faith

Marti never gave up. She might look small and delicate; she might act demure and easily led, but she clung to her ideals as tightly as any vine that climbed towards the sun. Marti was a determined young woman. She would have been surprised to learn that the rest of the world mistook her agreeability for compliance; she would have laughed at the fact that her soft smiles and gentle ways allowed others to think that she followed their lead.

Marti went where she wanted to go. True, she nearly always went secretly; she didn't often share her thoughts or desires with others. She let them think what they would; she didn't really believe they would do otherwise, and saw no point in making waves.

Her quiet determination would see her through.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, seed beads, Swarovski crystals, petal pearls, labradorite. Hand fabricated choker length necklace of bead weaving and chain maille.

Not another girly-girl

Her hair was black with a few licks of purple and blue, and her makeup was applied as carefully and precisely as the strokes of a renaissance painter. Her cosmetics comprised every shade of her favorite colors; she selected each one deliberately and applied it carefully; mixing and shading them one into the other, wielding her brush with the grace and speed of a true artist.

She selected her clothing with the same careful eye for detail; nothing, but nothing, was left to chance or unconsidered. Her palette was not simply black; she incorporated undertones of color with the unexpected sparkle of gold.

No cold, hard, contrast of silver for her; she loved the incongruity of warmth inside her darkness.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Vintage glass cabochons, Swarovski crystals, Czech crystals, seed beads. Hand fabricated choker length necklace.

In private collection

Russian Princess

Anastasia stepped carefully over the litter of toys in her living room and sighed. She should be picking them up, but suddenly the clutter seemed overwhelming. She swept her hand across the mess on the sofa, taking a perverse pleasure in her ability to make plastic action figures take flight. Before sitting down, she checked for remaining weapons; a plastic spear was still a spear.

Good. Nothing had escaped her wrath. She was the all-powerful Mominator. She curled up, hugging her knees to her chest, not really wanting to let humor reclaim her and send her on a search and rescue mission for the living room floor. No Mominator. Not today. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and let her life recede.

Anastasia stepped carefully out of the carriage, holding her skirts just high enough to keep them from tripping her. She nodded to the footman as he returned her hand to her father's, and pulled her furs tighter around her to ward off the chill in the air. She was so glad to be home.

She laughed in spite of herself. Time to clean up this palace.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, eudialite, and corundum necklace. Chain maille, hand fabricated.

Flume

She'd known this place all her life; it seemed impossible that this was the first time she'd actually been here. It had always been part of her, her secret joy and comfort, the sight and sound that swept away the fears and cobwebs in her mind.

She tipped her head back and looked all the way up to where the mist obscured the top of the cliff; the thin stream of water pouring over the side seemed to come from the sky itself. As it fell closer to earth, it seemed to widen; was it simply a trick of perspective or an actual repealing of the laws of gravity?

She didn't care. She was here.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver chain maille necklace. Hand fabricated.

A New Year

"Well, at least this year's ending better than it began," she thought with a flicker of a smile. Although, really, at the beginning of last year, she'd had no idea how bad things were. Nor did she really know how good things were now. So perhaps there wasn't much difference after all. She'd been as hopeful a year ago as she was today; however, she sincerely hoped that she was not as clueless as she'd been 365 days ago.

"Nice way to begin," she thought, ruefully, "not exactly a strong start." But never mind. Today was the last day of what had been a very difficult year; and tomorrow morning would present her with a beautiful, brand-new, shiny clean new year to start her life all over again. Perhaps this time...

She felt definite possibilities.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, freshwater pearls, moonstone necklace. Hand fabricated.

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.

Shining light

She smiled as she unpacked the box of decorations; she wasn't one of those people who buy new every year, no, her decorations may be a bit shabby looking to anyone else, but to her they were priceless. She carefully hung the ornaments her children had made in kindergarten; they were all grown now, but how easy it was to remember their gleeful faces and little fingers hanging them on the tree that first year. She hung them low, just like they had.

She hung the stockings at the mantle, next; one day, when her children had families of their own, their stockings would go home with them to hang on their own mantles. She patted them, smoothing out the wrinkles, remembered making them when her children were still babies. Perhaps she would make more, one day, for her grandchildren.

She put all the boxes away, poured herself a cup of tea, and lost herself in the lights.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, cubic zirconia, freshwater pearl. 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.

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.

Moss Maiden

This was deeper into the forest than I'd ever been, and I'd gotten used to being dwarfed by the giant redwoods. Even the occasional clump of sword fern no longer felt out of scale; I was small and had never been any larger. The light that must have filtered through the needles at the top of the trees was almost totally absorbed here on the floor of the forest; I did not cast even the faintest shadow. My footfalls were soundless on the mossy ground; the moss was so thick and soft that it tempted me to sleep.

and then I began to dream . . .

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Copper, freshwater pearls, seed beads. Hand fabricated and strung.

Corn Maiden

The sky was quite blue already, even though the sun had not made it up over the mountain. She was in a rather deep valley, and it would take the sun awhile to find her. She rolled up her bedroll and strapped it onto the frame of her rucksack. She boiled just enough water for coffee and drank it black, leaning against a tree, overlooking a clear stream. Morning was the best time for walking and she didn't want to waste a moment of it; although she had no set itinerary, she still had far to go. Breakfast would wait.

She shouldered her pack and set off to meet the sun halfway.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Fine and sterling silver, Sleeping Beauty turquoise. Hand fabricated pendant and chain.