Every time I carve a pumpkin I think that the activity will be more difficult than it is, and I fail to plan before cutting.

This year I started by cutting out the eyes and then the nose, at which point it looked a lot like a kitty and I considered whiskers. No, I thought, I’m going to give him the toothy grin; if he looks friendly, so be it.

Then instead of cutting out the negative space between his teeth, I removed half the triangles, giving him a shaggy upper lip. That’s when I remembered that I’ve done this before. Several times. Hello again, Mr. Furry Lip. Out to the porch you go…

I had visits from a scary wrestler, a fairy, a witch, a football player (“DO YOU HAVE ANY CANDY?!”), a bat, and a teeny princess riding a unicorn.

No one mocked my pumpkin.

I don’t know how to write about what I’m doing with my days. So many simple tasks and chores, which are gradually changing and improving the house. Meanwhile all around the world is on fire with unbelievable beauty.

I bought some mums for the front step. Had to.

I’ve moved and everything and nothing is happening. Nothing that doesn’t happen to others, and everything upside-down. Many good experiences with lots of scary feelings thrown in. Also a ton of adult decisions, some with heavy implications, such as cutting down trees, and some that are simple delights, such as choosing a location for my studio desk, and picking out trim for the top of the porch posts.

The cats have settled right in, which I take as a seal of approval.

It started to rain on my way home but I had my umbrella. Once I was on the bus it began to pour down. I thought about the idea of letting myself be bored so instead of reading I watched the pattern of the water on the windows, and noticed how people were standing under awnings, waiting for the rain to pass. I saw 3 dogs tied up outside a store and they were doing the same thing as the people, staying close to the building. One of them looked up at the sky as if he was trying to guess when it would stop.

The rain seemed to make people friendlier, hanging out together when normally they’d be rushing along alone. Then the sun broke through and the light was extremely white and reflected off all the shiny wetness so that people looked like silhouettes walking down the street. It was so beautiful.

Ack! Days and days go by with no word from me here.

Truth be told I’m barely holding on to all the threads of my life, it’s so abundant. I’m driving back and forth from city to country, welcoming visitors, weeding and mulching, cleaning, finding contractors, applying to craft shows, filling jewelry orders, and packing and getting ready to move again. I know everyone is busy and I’m tired of using that old complaint so I’ll just say that it’s unlikely I’m going to be “keeping up” here this summer. I’ll try to drop by with some words and pictures when I have a computer handy. Please bear with me through another transition.

No more waiting, no more finger-crossing – I finally have the key to my new home.

As long as I can remember I’ve wanted to work on an old house and make it a home. Here, now, is the opportunity – I’m surprised and delighted to find myself in love with an 1848 brick and shingle farmhouse in the Catskills. It needs TLC; there are projects calling out for attention from every room and corner of the yard. I spent the weekend wandering from basement to porch to bathroom to wood pile; adjusting the water temperature, cleaning the sink, staring at a patch of mystery ivy (Boston or poison?!), starting my billionth list, sitting down in shock, and then making the rounds again. The thought of all the to dos makes me want to lie down.

Just when I was getting overwhelmed, the local welcoming committee rep. showed up and insisted on rubbing his body all over us, rolled over and showed us the gray spot on his chest, and when I walked away decided to climb my leg!

Thank goodness for friendly neighbors and heavy denim.

Eliza tagged me with a meme that’s been going around. (Or a “me-me” as I think of them.)

What was I doing 10 years ago?
Living in the Midwest. I was working in a gallery. I already had a studio and I think that was the year I participated in the town’s open studio day. Friends helped me hang Christmas lights and baked gorgeous cookies to offer visitors. I hung my first quilt on the studio wall. I was figuring out what I “should” be making.

5 things on my to-do list for today:
Nothing fascinating –
Answer a couple of emails.
Make jewelry.
Pay some attention to this blog.
Make a phone call about buying a car.
Wash them dishes.

Snacks I enjoy:
I’m not crazy about snacks. I like FOOD. And generally not the low fat, virtuous kind, although I do love dark leafy greens. But also ice cream, and cheese, and pieeeeeee.

Due to the strange effects of colonialism, we’re able to get these Scottish caramel wafers in our Caribbean corner store. Bizarre, but appreciated.

Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
Freak out.

Places I have lived:
Born in Edinburgh, Scotland. After a year or two we moved to Roubaix in the north of France, then Paris, then on to Geneva in Switzerland where I was for most of my primary schooling. Back to Edinburgh through high school and art college, then across the Atlantic to Ann Arbor in Michigan. And finally to Brooklyn, New York.

In retrospect it seems kind of inevitable that I would end up in North America. My German grandmother came over to Canada in her 20s and stayed. My mother, on the other hand, was raised in Canada but has spent her adult life in Europe. Seems every generation bounces back across the Atlantic.

I know things have been slow around here but backstage, away from this blog, there’s a lot going on these days. I’m almost ready to share, yet still too superstitious to risk it until all the dotted lines have been signed. Hang in there with me.

I feel as vulnerable as the baby bird one of my oldest friends found on the ground this weekend and placed back in its nest. Or the newborn chickadee another dear friend shakily returned to its home the week before. The possibility of misstep, the distance to fall, is daunting. But I too am being carried safely homeward, cradled in a giant, tender, clumsy hand made up of brokers, bankers, inspectors, family, and wise friends.

Soon I’ll tell you about it.

It’s warm enough to open the windows. There is so much to hear. An ice cream truck has taken up residence at the end of our block and throughout the day the constant jingle comes in and out of my consciousness. Guys working on a car, dropping tools on the sidewalk. A couple fighting. Sirens. A helicopter. A girl yelling, “Come jump with us!”

Please forgive me for neglecting the blog; I have houses on the brain.

One in particular.