A Tale of Two Bonfires

Some people like the flashing of light,

And the embers that fly,

Orange and bright.

When the heat of the fire,

Burns their faces

And the wood crackles and spits...

Some people see fire and are afraid

Of the glory and

Brilliance of the blaze.

They wheeze and choke,

When they smell the smoke

And complain that their

Hot-dogs are burned.

As for me...I love the fire.

Delisa Marchetti

     Today's post is a story of two very vivid memories.  The first took place soon after moving to Georgia.  It was then that we were invited to my first autumn "southern" bonfire extravaganza.  I will never forget it.  It truly felt like something out of a story book, I did not know had been written. 

      So many happy people, new friends and neighbors, their dogs,  endless tables filled with a variety of casseroles, deserts, and 12 layer carmel cakes, (It is a tall homemade cake of very thin layers, just let me say if you have never had a slice... they are "to die for").  There was also music, and enough room on our friend's property for the kids to have their very own baseball diamond and of course a gigantic stainless steel pot of steaming low country boil, made with shrimp, sausage, potatoes and corn on the cob.  

     Here is Tony, my husband and I at the party in 2011.  Back "in the day" when I was a still a brunette and my hair was down to the middle of back. Hubby still looks the same but with a lot more salt and pepper.  Isn't it funny sometimes how younger people use the term "back in the day" when to us fifteen years was just yesterday in the grand scheme of things :) 

     Then after dinner as the sun set behind the pine trees and the Autumn air began to chill, the tall bon fire was lit and everyone gathered their lawn chairs and their children, to watch the blaze send sparks up into the night sky. 

       The second memory is of a bonfire gathering I had attended as a teenager, one summer when I lived near the ocean in Long Beach California.  They were very different experiences in some ways, yet exactly the same in all the ways that matter.

       I wrote the above poem about bon fires that night when I was just fifteen-years-old. I had just come home from a long day at Bolsa Chica State Beach, with a big group of friends and their families.   Scattered along the beach were concrete fire pits.  If you wanted a fire pit , you had to send someone out early in the morning to reserve it and as it was first come first serve and they went fast.

       The sun, set that day over the water like a huge, sizzling orange ball, as it dropped into the Pacific Ocean.  I love how we get beautiful sunrises over the beach, here on the east coast.  But, those California sunsets over the water are pretty spectacular.  The sunsets would always cause the wind to kick up a bit.  It was then that the men in our group would start building the fire.   It was tiny in comparison to what we have here in Georgia, but the blaze was still as inviting. We would run in from the shore and pull our sweatshirts and sandy Levis on, over our bathing suits.

      All of the teenage girls helped by gathering up all the little ones, who played in the sand with their buckets and little shovels.  We would wrap them into large warm beach towels that smelled sweet from being in the sun all day. We held them close and sat cross-legged before the fire.  They snuggled and rested their little heads against our shoulders; tired, happy and hungry, as their mother's roasted hot dogs and we all sang songs and drank warm 7 up. 

     Styrofoam coolers only kept the soda cold for a few hours back in the 70's, that is if you even remembered to bring one. Things like cold drinks were nice but they just didn't seem so very important to us. I have to laugh sometimes today, when I see people struggling to pull, giant, wagon-like contraptions, over the sands of Tybee Island, containing every conceivable amenity just to spend two hours in the sun...but I digress. :)

      After I returned home, I laid in my bed that night, showered and sunburned, every muscle in my body spent from hours of play in the ocean.  The cool evening breeze, along with the scents of night blooming jasmine and white oleander came blowing through the old box fan in my window.

      I had wanted to write about my day at the beach in my new red bound journal, but I was so tired all the words began to blur together.  So, instead, I quickly jotted down the lines of this poem and fell asleep to the lullaby of the 405 freeway, with cars whirring and whizzing past all night long like an endless river.

      I just did the math...goodness that was 48 years ago! Almost half a century.  After  all these years, I am still so surprised by how well I knew myself back then.  This poem describes an inner part of myself that has never changed with time.  The poem is like a photograph I once took, not with film but with words.  Do you have a bonfire story you would like to share?  I would love to hear!

Beginnings Are Fragile Things

"You can learn to be or do anything

 in life if you are willing to be a beginner.

If you actually learn to like

being a beginner, a whole

world of creative possibilities 

open up to you"

Anonymous

     I think beginning something new takes a lot of courage. Especially these days, when people are used to attaining what they desire quickly.  It wasn't always so, and I believe that is important to remember.

      When I think of beginnings I often remember a friend I had back in my twenties.  She was a young married woman who dreamed of having a beautiful flower garden.   She had her garden planned, in her mind, down to the smallest detail.  Yet, she never planted.  Not one single flower.

      I asked her why, and she said, "I am afraid to plant, because what if my garden does not grow and it is not as beautiful as the one I have pictured in my mind? I don't want to lose my dream!"

       I have thought about this experience at times throughout my whole life and have come to this conclusion: it is far, far less painful to begin, than it is to hold something beautiful bottled up inside us.  Like a flower that needs the sunshine, creative desires will wither away without action.

     Beginnings are fragile things and we must care for them and love them for what they are.  Beginnings are never perfect and nor should they be.  Beginnings are about practice.  Practice does not need to make perfect, but practice does make something.  And that something will lead to another something and then another.

      What a good feeling it is to make progress with one's dream, and when that happens, we never regret beginning. So to all those who may be dreaming of learning something new whatever it is, find joy in your wonky granny squares, your one missed stitch that unravels 10 rows of knitting, or your half burned cookies.  Begin the dream and the skill will follow.

 

Gratitude Unlocks the Fullness of Life

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. 

It turns what we have into 

enough, and more. 

It turns denial into acceptance,

 chaos to order, confusion to clarity.

 It can turn a meal into a feast, 

a house into a home, 

a stranger into a friend. 

Gratitude makes sense out 

of the past, brings peace for today, 

and creates a vision for tomorrow." 

Melody Beattie 

        I have learned through the years to be thankful for a good day.  It wasn't always so.  When I was a young woman there were no "good" days or "bad" days.  There were just days stretching forward endlessly.  Work to do, schedules to be adhered to, and errands to run.

        Then Life started to trip me up.  Literally.  The first time it happened I was 37 and rushing to get our luggage out to the truck as we were getting ready to leave for a friend's wedding. In my hurry I did not see the innocent little magnolia tree cone lying in my path.  The next thing I knew I was down on my knees on the hard concrete.

        This injury, led a few days later to me developing some serious blood clots in my right leg.  The damage to my leg and circulation never completely healed.  Then after coming here to Georgia, at age 45, I was having a great deal of unexplained pain and weakness which turned out to be fibromyalgia.  Shortly thereafter, I broke several vertebrae. It was then discovered I had severe osteoporosis in my thoracic spine.  Then came a painful shoulder injury, osteoarthritis in my hands and fingers, and bursitis of the hip. 

         My litany of problems are certainly not uncommon for women of my age but they can affect how we approach just about everything in life.  Chronic pain has now become a constant companion. At first, it can really knock you off your feet.  It is quite a balancing act and learning process.  There are days of over doing, and days of under doing.  Then just about the time we think we have figured it out and are living in the "sweet spot, we face another major challenge.

        There are many ways to survive chronic pain.  But to survive it and still manage to thrive takes gratitude.  Gratitude helps us foremost not to give up.  It helps us to hold on to that little spark of fire that makes us uniquely us. 

        Chronic pain often causes a "big" life to suddenly become very small.   Gratitude helps me to be a woman who is in and of the moment.  Instead of looking at life through a telescope, we switch to a magnifying glass.  Often with this new way of seeing things we are opened up to a world of beauty we would have otherwise missed.  Autumn always reminds me of this.

        Early Autumn in the south is subtle. Like the splash of a snapping turtle in the pond, and a morning rooster crowing in the mist.  It is the crunch of acorns underfoot.  The smell of fresh crayons and just sharpened pencils.  It is a new notebook, with clean pages awaiting the touch of untold stories.  

         I hope your day is filled with gratitude and the beauty of small, intricate and unexpected things.  And, I hope this brings you peace.

The Joys of Toy Making

My passion for toy making which started about 3 years ago began with these two amigurumi cats.  And of course after you make cats, you have to make a pregnant rabbit and her husband.  (notice the hand on her belly):

From there it grew...

And grew...

And grew.

Where do I find my inspiration?  I always start with a question: what would I have wanted to play with as a little girl? Then it feels sometimes like the toys literally make themselves.  At first as I was learning the little tricks of the trade I often went to Etsy or Ravelry in search of patterns.  As I have been knitting and crocheting for quite awhile, I would usually put a little of my own spin on them.  Now I am designing my own patterns.

I keep on thinking aren't you getting a little bored? Maybe you should try something else for a bit? Nope, at least for now I am still on this train and loving the ride.  I also have given many as gifts to my 8 year old grand niece.  She is at that wonderful age where she doesn't yet think her whimsical aunt is silly. 

If you would like to see more of my creations here is a link to my Pinterest board:  

Knitting and Crocheting With Dances With Yarn:

https://pin.it/7B6wbv1wz

Knitting is Conducive to Thoughts

 

"Knitting is

conducive to thought.  

It is nice to knit a while, 

put down the needles, 

write a while, 

then take up the sock again."  

~Dorothy Day

      I find a great deal of truth in this simple little quotation.  My niece is an artist and she has a very beautiful way of capturing, the most subtlest of emotions in her portraits.  

      Years ago, unbeknownst to me, she began to do a pencil sketch of me as I sat knitting on the couch.  When it was finished, and she called me over to take a look, I imagined, I would appear relaxed in the sketch maybe even smiling restfully.  But, I was surprised instead to find my face holding an expression of deep concentration and complex thought. 

      It is good to be able to get into that part of our mind once in a while, to meditate, ponder, and focus.  It is refreshing and soothing in its own way.  Such times, can bring us inspiration and be a stepping stone to other creative activities.  

       Jane Austen, was often observed, to be "lost in thought" while she was knitting.  She is said to have planned out many of her story plot lines, while her needles gently clicked away.     We can only imagine the wonderful inner workings of her mind, and be thankful, for the beautiful treasure trove of stories she left behind for us to enjoy.  Her example of making room, for creative meditation, shows us the value of setting aside a little time each day, for a daydream...or two. 

  

Deeply and Vitally Alive

"Seek out that particular

 mental attribute which 

makes you feel most deeply

 and vitally alive, along with 

which comes the inner voice

 which says, ‘This is the real me,' 

and when you have found 

that attitude, follow it."

William James 

        When I first started the original "Dances With Yarn" blog  I was 47 years old.  We had just recently moved to rural Georgia from the Los Angeles area in California.  Everyday felt like an adventure.  Learning the culture, the land, making friends, and  relishing in every moment the slower pace of life.  

        Now in my 60's I find myself in a different phase of life.  It is almost as if every 20 years or so we must take a closer look into who we have become.  And, we must take some time to dream about which paths we would like to walk on in the future, knowing all the while that Life may have some different ideas.  

        Like so many rural areas, ours has changed greatly in the last 15 years.  It is almost unrecognizable.  We live on 5 acres, away from the bustle.  Change is in the air.  Everywhere we look.  

         I now feel a desire, to take stock.  To find once again those things that make me feel vitally alive.  To know what changes I need to embrace, and also what things from the past I need to hold onto tight with both hands.  

         

          

        

The Journey Begins...

 

     Welcome! Thank you for stopping by.  Let me introduce myself. My name is Delisa and I am in my 60's and I live in a rural area of beautiful south east Georgia. 

      I began my original "Dances With Yarn" blog in 2010.  For almost 8 years I posted weekly sharing my life, stories and creative endeavors.  We had a lot of fun.  At times it was exciting with contests, and give aways, and best of all I met many wonderful people who shared my interests.  But like with so many things, time and unforeseen occurrences stepped in and distracted me, to a point I no longer was enjoying the process of writing and what had once been such a wonderful creative outlet began to make me feel overwhelmed. 

      I am now ready to step back in the saddle and I am looking forward to my blogging adventures in the days ahead!

      Who am I?  My dear husband Tony and I have been married for 37 years. I am a retired pharmacy technician.  These days I am primarily a homemaker.  I am also a writer and have had stories and vignettes published in Mary Jane Farms Magazine, Where Women Create and Victoria Magazine.  

      I am also an avid knitter and crocheter, pattern designer and a lover of all things yarn.  In recent years I have developed a passion for designing and making soft, knitted or crocheted toys.  I also love to read and enjoy many genres of books, but I have a soft spot for cozy mysteries.  I am a fan of classic movies, musicals and old science fiction.  

     I like to cook and bake and find new recipes to try.   I love dogs, any kind of dog, but especially golden retrievers.  I love taking pictures of nature and always have a camera in my hand when I am going for a walk.  I have playlists of just about every kind of music, but my favorite is 70's and 80's classic rock, soft rock and R&B.  

      What's ahead?  I will be sharing posts,  regarding all these things as well as stories from my Generation X life.  I hope that you too share some of these interests and will stop back around as the blog begins its regeneration.  Until next time...