Audrey

Audrey slipped off her jacket as she entered the greenhouse; her orchids lived in a steamy world of their own that had no relationship to the frigid New England wind that was already promising snow. She checked each plant carefully; noting bud and bloom, looking for any sign of disease or pests. The first few minutes were always tense ones; this was her special world, and she would let nothing harm her plants.

Happily, nothing was threatening them today. There were some new blooms to admire; and a few that had passed their prime and needed pinching. She stretched luxuriously in the soft warm air, letting her shoulders relax and putting all thoughts of her day out of her head. This was what she was meant to do; this was what she did best.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads, sterling silver, Dichroic glass by Paula Radke. Hand fabricated, bead-woven collar.

Butterscotch Creme

She let the silky sweetness gather in her mouth; butterscotch creme was more than just a treat, it was a trip back in time. Her Papa had always had butterscotch in his shirt pocket, and he always offered them to her, right away, holding them out before she even came into the house. She never, ever had to ask.

For awhile, after he died, she couldn't bear the smell of butterscotch; its sticky sweetness was repulsive and cloying to her senses. But now, nearly forty years later, it had found the power to open her heart again.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads. Based on Kepler's Star, a bead weaving pattern created by Gwen Fisher of BeAd Infinitum. Hand fabricated.

Transported

"Where am I?" She sat up, heart pounding, with no idea of how she had gotten here, or, indeed, where 'here' was. Trees. Her mind registered trees. Tall trees. Lots of trees. A forest. Okay, she was in a forest. It was a rather nice forest; the ground was soft and mossy; the air was comfortably cool, and it was shady, but not too dark.

Looking more closely, she identified pine, and hemlock, and perhaps an oak over there; but trees were not reliable landmarks, it was not in the least like recognizing restaurants or boutiques. One could simply not place oneself with any confidence by identifying trees.

Surely she was dreaming? No, this was entirely too real. She gradually became aware that her jeans and t-shirt had been replaced by a gown of something soft and perfectly fitted to her; she stretched, and it stretched with her. Her feet were sheathed in boots of the finest leather; they were quite the prettiest shoes she'd ever seen. She turned her foot one way, and then the other; admiring the look even more than the fit.

"How odd," she thought. "I really should mind this more than I do."

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads, vintage glass, and lampwork by Melissa Vess of Inner Realm Creations. Hand fabricated, princess length necklace using traditional needlelace techniques in beads.

I thee wed

How long had she been planning this day? Since before she could remember, she'd dreamt of being a bride. She lifted the lid of the old cedar chest that would one day be hers, and gently took out her great-grandmother's veil. The silk netting was gossamer thin and the color of heavy cream; the lace was handmade and as delicate as a spider's web. Under it was more silk; yards and yards of embroidered antique silk, gathered onto a bodice that clung to her every curve and fit like a dream.

She'd always known that she would wear these things; she'd grown up looking into this cedar chest and dreaming of this day. She didn't want a new dress, a new veil, a trip to a trendy and expensive fashion designer's salon. She wanted to greet this day clothed in all the love and lace that her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother had handed down; she wanted to bring that love to her husband and share it with him.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads, freshwater pearls and gold-filled findings. Hand woven and embroidered bead lace. Hand fabricated.

A matter of perspective

She looked out her kitchen window at the waves, and found herself unconsciously moving in concert with them. She picked up a dish from the counter, dipped it in the soapy water, and set it in the dishwasher with the same tumbling motion of the sea. Her fingers whirled and dove like pelicans, dislodging the bits of stuck food and retrieving errant silverware from the bottom of the sink.

How many meals had she planned, cooked, served, and cleaned up after in her lifetime? Perhaps not as many as grains of sand, but more than she could calculate. Every move was now automatic; she no longer thought about it. Her mind was free to focus on the view; she danced in the waves and soared with the gulls.

Pop! went the plug, and the dirty water swirled down the drain.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Melissa Vess of Inner Realm Creations. Hand fabricated, filigree and chain maille, necklace and earrings set.

In private collection