If you’ve spent much time browsing the Field Guide, you know that I’m usually inspired by a love of old things, especially if those things add a depth of meaning to my own memories and experiences. Through a little foraging and pandemic-motivated restoration, a new “old thing” is gracing the walls of our entryway as we come and go. It’s giving a fun, old school vibe to our virtual learning efforts, and surrounded by vintage jack-o-lanterns, it’s bringing a finished touch to this much-used space. Today, I wanted to share a little more about this pandemic project!
We lose the forks. That’s what it boils down to. I don’t know if it’s just carelessness or an over-abundance of paper plate use that makes it easy to throw them away. Or, if they simply get sucked into that old house ether where wayward socks, misplaced pens, and the occasional fork go. But, we lose the forks. At least that’s the eBay thrifting story I’m going with! I’ve wanted to add a new set of flatware to our kitchen for a while, and when we inexplicably dwindled down to only one or two salad forks, I knew it was time to begin the search. Yes, I took a glance at a few of the cool retailers, but I really wanted a vintage set. And I set about finding one.
“Every moment of one’s existence, one is growing into more or retreating into less.” ~ Norman Mailer
I’ve been thinking about growth this week, and irony. Over the last few months in our neck of the woods, we’ve seen the whole of nature shake off the dust of a dormant winter season and sprout into new growth, spring blossoms and early summer fruit. Yet, in one of life’s inevitable ironies, it seems like much of life has been at a standstill as we enter week 15 of quarantine, shelter in place and the socially distant realities of the Coronavirus pandemic. With schools closed, travel plans cancelled, favorite activities interrupted, and time with family limited, an uncertainty-fueled fatigue threatens to lull us into merely sitting. And waiting.
In truth, God’s great earth teaches that there is no real time of stagnance. No mere status quo, no simple biding of time, no true standstill. There is only growing. And dying. Even dormant days can provide rest and regeneration that contribute to the next growing season, or they degenerate into spoil and decay. As Norman Mailer wrote, “Every moment of one’s existence, one is growing into more or retreating into less.”
That hand painted script! “Independent” ventures sometimes carry a lot of questions, plenty of decision-making, and usually a healthy helping of unpredictability paired with second-guessing. But, it’s fun to relish the independence sometimes, and indulge in the serendipity of an unplanned road, even if it results in a few detours.
I have to say that I really enjoy traveling by myself. Not in large doses (because I just love having my children with me), but a few hours left to my own devices in the car with no strict ETA required can be good for the soul! Last year, I had the opportunity for a little solo road trip through central Alabama. I was meeting my son for a school event in Auburn, and I gave myself permission to take the long way…
To begin again is such a blessing – an opportunity to revel in what may be hovering ahead on the horizon. But, it’s a blessing that sometimes gets a bad rap. I’ve had a few “starting over” seasons in my life, and I’ve noticed they tend to be heavily burdened with the failure or loss of whatever season came before. We steady our hands for a newness thrust upon us, like we’ve scribbled some errant message and, with a heavy sigh, had to tear out the page, wad it up and toss it behind us.
It’s different with a new year. Maybe it’s the predictability that makes the difference, but we seem to turn the page to January with much more acceptance. With more grace — for ourselves, for where we’ve been and where we’re going. We give ourselves permission to embrace something new. And, we celebrate the beginning, relishing the opportunity to retool and tweak life goals and daily decisions alike. The start of the new year offers an anticipated blessing of beginning again — the chance to bring forward what serves us and leave behind what may be holding us back. No strings attached.
Hello & welcome! I’m Haley Montgomery, and I’m the designer and owner of Small Pond Graphics. I sometimes fancy myself a frog kisser— a documentarian coaxing poignant moments from unexpected places. This blog has evolved from those moments.
The small Pond FIELD GUIDE is part diary, part sketchbook, and part wish list – an archive of ordinary wonders. For years, this space has housed my stories – creative ideas, vintage inspiration, our forays into curious places, and the simple artifacts of quiet of conscious living. Through watercolor, photography, and illustrated tales, these pages uncover the blessing of ordinary days and the wonder found in authentic places and pursuits.
I invite you to open the boxes.
Peek into the drawers.
Rustle through the pages. I’m honored to have you here.