As part of our business, we went on road trips every year in our dear departed van, and I saw America in my 30's and 40's from the passenger seat of a Ford Econoline. We always took the roads that ran along the Interstates, meandering through the little dying towns, turning a corner into a Wal-Mart Super Center in the middle of nowhere, and always avoiding the giant macadam, concrete snake of a road that blasted through mountains, and ripped along the creeks, in the straightest line possible.
I mention it now, because I have been remeniscing, musing about the sights, and colors I remember. The colors of emeralds, and there are a lot of them; new fields, moss, grass, spriggy leaves, palms and pines. Then, as the air runs a bit cooler, and the trees start to turn, those emeralds morph into rubies and citrines.
Lately, all my work has been in jewel tones, over the beachy, ocean colors, I adore. And, lately, I have been pining for the mountains. We have not been there for several years, and last time we were in the Catskills, we left early because I was homesick for the Bay. Fickle, yes!, and blonde.
We stayed at the Breezy Hill Inn and I am constantly returning there in my work, alas, not in the flesh. I think the next piece shall have to be named for the lovely old house on Breezy Hill. A multitude of colored gems, and gold, I think, to set them off.
Surf & Sand Jewelry