I hate to dust, so it doesn't often get done. Sometimes, though, when the dust piles up enough to be doodle-able, I'm forced to do something. At these times, I'm struck by the many small alters throughout my home, the collection of odds and ends I've strategically left in the places I frequent. One such sacred space is the area behind my kitchen sink.
This spot has, no matter where I've lived, always been occupied by a small flower pot. Fifteen years ago, my then first grade daughter painted the pot as part of a class project for Valentine's or Mothers' Day. At the time, I thought a Purple Velvet plant complimented the red and purple pot with a white heart. Over the years, I've tended the plant and repotted it when necessary. Fifteen years is a good long run for a houseplant. With luck, I'll be able to add many more years to that count. There are other treasures behind the kitchen sink, too, like my bowl full of beach rocks.
Each rock represents a family walk along our favorite beach, Arcadia, just south of Cannon Beach, Oregon. For me, beach rocks have always been tiny universes unto themselves, but take them out of water and they become muted. So each week, I wash and re-fill my bowl of rocks with fresh water that amplifies the colors and textures. As I do so, I dream of long walks punctuated with the sound of surf and seagulls and laughter. The bowl provides moisture for the plants, including the Begonia start.
My brilliant Begonia is a rescue, a section acidentally busted off the parent plant and stuffed in an intact glass found alongside our road. Every year, there is some plant or other in need of saving here at the ranch. Apparently, there's an occasional glass which requires rescue, too. I can never resist a salvage operation and my reward is usually a vibrant blossom that appears around Christmas time, this particular Begonia's grand version of a thank you. In front of the Begonia, there are two large rocks.
One is a massive crystal I purchased at a rock show, my way of paying homage to Feng Shui's assertion that house drains can be conduits for good or negative energy. It's a big crystal, big enough to trap any bad vibes. Next to my crystal is a large bone shaped agate recovered from Arcadia on one of our many walks there. Rock always seem to be balanced with wood, so I've included some interestng folk art in my alter, too.
To me, the small wood carving of a pig peeing on a fire hydrant is both whimsical and funny. A pig in a red chapeau. When I first saw this piece at the Seaside Christmas Fair years ago, the maker informed me that the pig was a Democrat. For some reason, this just seems all the funnier to me. Back then, I had to have this carving. An aside... My husband tries to hide this piece when new people come to the ranch. Usually, I find my pig in time and set the orientation so the pig's action is obvious to visitors. Most people are amused. The handcrafted wood is a stark contrast to the modern plastic horse in my window.
Years ago, my nephew Joe made a gift of his McDonald's Happy Meal toy -- a sturdy looking buckskin horse with a glint in his eye. I was charmed, not because Joe's gift was a horse and he knew I loved horses, but because he thought enough of me to pass along a toy, to share something he valued. What's not to love about that? Just down from the pony is a pair of vases.
The cowgirl boot flower holders have different origins: the small one came from a trip north to see my dad and the other from a Newberg, Oregon store called Farmgro. My family and I spent many a happy day shopping at Farmgro where proprietor Jean Nilles made a point of getting to know her customers. This vase reminds me of all of Jean's fine qualities, many of which I strive for in my life. Just to the right of the boots is a small wooden bird hung on a red ribbon.
The Chickadee was a gift from my son, Nick, many many years ago. Nick has always understood the things that impress me most, from salmon spawning at Oxbow Park to fine handcrafted art. He's selected many beautiful, thoughtful gifts over the years, each one a treasure. Beyond the Chickadee is a very large molar.
All horses lose their baby teeth between the ages of two and five. The molar or cap sitting in the window is from my gelding, Irish. Every time I see that tooth, I think of the time and energy spent learning to work together. It's been a long journey, one that's just beginning to approach synchronicity and joy. Behnd the Chickadee and Irish's tooth is a dream catcher.
The dream catcher is old, a remnant from a make-it-yourself art project I did with the kids when they were young. To this day, it reminds me to take time to be open to creativity, to let my muse flow.
Directly above Irish's tooth is an cowgirl ornament suspended on a lovely crystal suncatcher.The ornament was a gift from Lorenzo and Esperanza's little girl, Natalia. I believe this cowgirl comes from the Toy Story movies, but she reminds me of my Wyoming grandmother's strength, self-reliance, and sheer joy. She's the cowgirl I want to be.
This is my kitchen window, just one of my sacred places.
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