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.

Empress Emilie

Emilie smiled her favorite smile: calm and sophisticated, with just a touch of warmth. It was the smile she reserved for people she liked; the smile she used when she actually felt like smiling. She hadn't always been so calculating; there had actually been a time when her face did what it wanted to do, and almost everyone called her Emmy.

But now she was Emilie through and through. The people who had known Emmy were long gone; she had almost forgotten how to live that way, and she didn't miss it. Emmy had felt too much; Emmy had no defenses against cruelty. It had hurt too much to be Emmy; she'd had to give her up. It was the right thing to do.

No sadness. Not ever again. Her face automatically arranged itself into Emilie's cheerful smile number seven.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Vintage glass cabochons, Swarovski crystals, seed beads, gold filled chain maille. Hand fabricated bracelet.

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

Trophy Wives

The diet hadn't been quite as successful as she'd hoped, but she was happily impressed with the new technologies in lingerie. She felt as smooth and sleek as the younger, and more expensive, wives in attendance. She looked around the beautifully decorated room, accepted a glass of something pink and trendy, noting that there certainly weren't very many of the old gals left. Was she the last? The comfortable cocker spaniels that should have been here had been replaced by a crop of whippets.

Nervous whippets. Whippets without histories; and, without futures. They would be indulged for awhile, and, when their husbands tired of them, they would be replaced by an even younger and thinner model.

Ah, at last. Another woman of her generation. She wasn't the last of her kind after all.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Choker made from seed beads, vintage glass cabochons, pearls, and jet beads. Hand fabricated.

The crest of the wave

Long ago, and far away, in another time and place altogether, the coral grew in dense forests on the ocean floor. Oysters opened their shells, offering up their best pearls, and anemones pursed their lacy mouths into pretty pouts as we floated over them; cradled in the soft embrace of the water, we rose and fell with the tide.

It took no effort at all to float; it would have been hard to sink in those rich, mineral-laden seas. The salt crusted into glittering diamonds on our brows and lashes as we rolled like seals over the crests of the waves, and dissolved into long streams that bent the light into a spectrum of colors when we dove to escape the waves that broke over our heads.

And then we grew up; we grew up far too soon.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

This bracelet cuff is made from copper, seed beads, and freshwater pearls. Forged and hand fabricated, free-form peyote stitch.

Growing Wild

In gardening books, the clematis ran delicately and prettily through trees and shrubbery; but in her garden, it looked as though it had thrown a party and invited too many questionable guests. It lolled drunkenly from the arbor, raced crazily across the flower beds, and was far too familiar with the peonies. It's deshabille had once seemed romantic; now it was just tawdry.

She took her shears in hand and began to cut away the excess.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, charlotte seed beads. Hand crocheted and fabricated.

A Grain of Sand

"Faith? Yeah, right." She scowled and kicked the sand, sending it into her own eyes. "Figures," she muttered, still wanting to attack something, but loathe to try that again. She ran toward the sea instead, intending to swim off the questions (and hopes) that he'd just raised.

"Karin? Come back!"

She let the wind pick up his voice and carry it away from her, pretending that she hadn't heard. She swam furiously until she was spent, then flipped onto her back and let the ocean swells rock her into a calmer place.

Faith. It was still there, a grain of sand in her eye.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Copper, seed and bugle 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.

Elf Magic

The hush was the first thing I noticed every time I entered the redwood forest. There was a point where the sound of the outside world disappeared; I never could pinpoint it, but the world just went away and left me altogether. I walked deeper into the forest, the earth a soft carpet of needles and moss beneath my feet, feeling smaller with every step. The trees were not only tall, they were larger around than any other trees, and I always had the sensation that it was me that was smaller, not the trees that were larger.

I passed a clump of sword fern that was nearly as tall as me, and was transformed.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Copper, freshwater pearls, seed beads. Hand fabricated using traditional bobbin lace, coiling, embroidery, and needlelace techniques.