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the path back is the path forward


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there is a place [d.r. thursday]

alki cropped copy

a morsel of ALKI BEACH

there are those places – where you sit and your breathing slows down.  the blue of sky calms you, the warm sand molds to your shape and the water beyond where you sit lulls you and quells the inner mixmaster of your thoughts.

for me, many many years ago now,  that place was crab meadow beach.  i felt some kind of kinship with the seagulls and the lure that shoreline had on them.  off-season still found me sitting on the pebbles along the waterline, in the sand gathered in small wind-dunes, on the cement dolphin or walking, walking, walking, ankle-deep in a surf that changed daily.  a place where i could sort out growing up, it soothed me, challenged me, spoke to me.

it’s not always a beach.  or the top of a mountain.  or a quiet lakeside cove.  or an inviting stump on a thick woodsy trail.  most of the time we don’t all have access to these things on a daily basis.

but there is a place.  where you can find the silence you need.  for david, this is often in front of his easel, a fresh canvas waiting or an unfinished painting beckoning.  this painting – ALKI BEACH – reminds me of that place.  the places nearby, the places within.  the rocking chair in the room upstairs, the adirondack chair in the backyard, the piano bench.  the place you draw the seagulls close, whisper your thoughts to them and send them on their way back into the world.

David Robinson ALKI copy 2

click here or on painting above to view ALKI BEACH on davidrobinsoncreative.com

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

rhode island website box

ALKI BEACH ©️ c.2009 david robinson

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longing. [k.s. friday]

longingSongbox.jpg

i first wrote and recorded this piece while i was working on the twin LET ME TAKE YOU BACK albums.  performing the tunes of the 60s and 70s made me feel wistful; memories flooded every note.  i’d remember dancing to a song at a prom or listening over and over to another in my room in the basement.  they made me picture the windows rolled down in my little blue vw driving on the open roads out east on long island and they brought me the sweet smell of warm sand on crab meadow beach with my red round ball and chain transistor radio.Screen Shot 2018-09-27 at 4.44.47 PM  they had me thinking about the songs coming from my sister’s room and the songs my big brother would play on his guitar.  so it wasn’t a stretch to write a piece that was all about longing and reminiscing and memories, stories that were deeply set in my heart, times that had gone by.  later on we orchestrated this piece for the album AS IT IS.  i still associate it with the twin retro albums; the cello line gets me every time.  it makes me want to take out all my photo albums and set up a white sheet in the living room to watch the carousels of 35mm slides my poppo called “film funnies”.  longing.  indeed.

download LONGING track 13 from AS IT IS on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts on this K.S. FRIDAY

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LONGING from AS IT IS ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood


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time together. [k.s. friday]

time together song box

the air coming through the windows this morning felt cool.  almost chilly.  it has been a long while since the last time i could say that of a morning here.  we have had a very hot, very humid summer…not my favorite combination.  but today.  it was different.  and it made me feel immediately homesick.  that happens every fall for me.  maybe it’s a melancholy recognition of the passing of time, years zooming by.  maybe it’s the season-change-thing…we know grey days are lurking right around the corner.  either way, i feel homesick.

it’s a time when i miss long island the most, recall my growing-up years, pine for the autumn at millneck manor and long deserted-beach walks at crab meadow.  a time when my sweet momma and poppo are really present for me in their absence, if that makes sense.  i yearn to talk to them.  a time when The Girl and The Boy seem oh-so-grown-up now, steeped in their own adult-lives, having adventures and being a dynamic part of this world, far away, without the benefit of hearing ‘good night moon’ every night.  i know that every evening they roll their eyes at my goodnight texts to them, but i figure that someday they will understand.  homesick.

yesterday was my father-in-law’s 85th birthday.  we called columbus and sang ‘happy birthday’ to him.  my momma and daddy did that every year for me and i try to carry on the tradition with the people i love.  he laughed and told us he had gotten back from dinner at texas roadhouse and was listening to an old record.  he listens to old records a lot.  i suspect, because he is the man he is, that he gets homesick.  i can tell by his eyes that he would totally understand me if i told him how i felt.

so today, if you are spending time together with someone, memorize it.  if you are lucky enough to spend time with your momma or your daddy, please hug them.  if you are one of the fortunate parents who have their children nearby, hold on just a little tighter and look into their faces when you say goodnight.  relish it.

there is nothing like it.

time together.

 

download TIME TOGETHER track 3 from THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY on iTUNES or CDBaby or PURCHASE the ALBUM

read DAVID’S thoughts on this K.S. FRIDAY

K.S. FRIDAY – ON OUR WEBSITE

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TIME TOGETHER from THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY ©️ 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood


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the sun rises in the east. [d.r. thursday]

thesunrises PRIMARY IMAGE BOX

thesunrises product BOX

when i think about long island, i miss the days that i could bike to the beach, climb the fence and watch the sun rise over the sound.  these colors – the blue, green, aqua, yellow – dominated those mornings, both gentle and fierce, end of night, beginning of day.

i feel that if i were in outer space looking from far away at the earth…i would see the sun wrap its rays around the east side of the earth, a mix of blues and greens, melded into a blur with a rounded edge.  it would be a kaleidoscope of color and feeling.

either way i hold this piece, vertically or horizontally, i see the sun.  golden rising.  off the east edge of the earth.  or over the water.  either way, a new day.

D.R. THURSDAY (DAVID ROBINSON THURSDAY) – ON OUR SITE

click here (or on product box above) to see our THE SUN RISES IN THE EAST products

read DAVID’S thoughts on this DR THURSDAY

the sun rises in the east ©️ 2018 david robinson, kerri sherwood


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the way home.

IMG_1794i stood on crab meadow beach, looked across the sound, and dropped to my knees to touch the sand on that very familiar place. i can’t count how many times i sat on that very beach…the wind has taken drifted waves of sand and moved them around, the waves and rain and erosion have changed the shape of the inlet, but i recognize it. deep inside me, i can feel it – from long ago. and still.

crab meadow is not the most beautiful beach by beach standards. (i know  – i talked about it a lot in my june 20, 2015 blog called ‘the gorgeous disorderliness that is life.’) it is rocky and pebbly and not vast and you can see the stacks from there when you look left, but i will always consider it my most important beach. so much time spent there. winter, spring, summer, fall. it is one of the places i call home.

and just a few weeks ago i found my way there. to my crab meadow beach.

my husband understood my need to sit and ponder and meander through my thoughts and memories. he was both appropriately quiet and conversational. he engaged in my memories, my musings and my relationship with that tide, and held me as i felt wistful. so much growing happened for me on that beach, since that beach. in that place. home.

i was always the kind of kid who got homesick. being thready does that to a person. i still get homesick. homesick for places, people, times gone by. my roots mean so much to me: climbing the fence to the beach pre-dawn, my dog missi in the well of my vw bug, sitting with notebooks in my tree….i can still hear the clanking of masts in northport harbor…. i remember childhood playdates with dianne, bike hikes and drives and countless overnights with susan, bobdylanjohndenver arguments with marc, joe-z lecturing me on driving too slow on waterside avenue…i can still feel the damp wind on my face fishing with crunch in the middle of the night, in the middle of the sound….i can still see my sweet momma and poppo, in our house, my brother skateboarding with me and strumming his guitar, my sister playing leonard cohen and doing my hair…a zillion thoughts….home…

my daughter stands on the top of a huge mountain and feels home. my son, in the midst of his big busy city, feels home.   i look west and i look south – toward them – and know that part of what makes home for me is now climbing a mountain or riding the ‘L’ train.

and so i stood on that beach and thought about life since…decades after the days i had spent huge slices of time there.

i felt like i had come there to pick up something i left behind, to reclaim something. but now i wonder if actually i needed to be there to leave something there…to leave that which i no longer needed.   i have yet to figure out the sudden burst of tears that came with my feet in that sand.

i just know that crab meadow, once again, came through for me. it will always be home. no matter how many other places or people i call home, i will always be able to find my way home. there.

www.kerrisherwood.com

itunes: kerri sherwood: this part of the journey: the way home


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i blame my sweet momma.

IMG_1799three weeks ago we loaded a 5 1/2 foot long piece of driftwood and more rocks and shells than we could count into the xb to drive home. with sand everywhere, we carried back to wisconsin with us morsels of my life on long island…pieces of the north shore and my beloved crab meadow beach, pieces of the south shore and the fierce atlantic ocean.

i have always always collected rocks and pieces of wood. i’d like to be able to say that i could identify each one and its origin, but i really don’t know.  the easier ones to identify are the ones my children painted for me, all of which i saved.  but now all the pieces of my life that i have carried have blended into each other, blended into who i am.

for me, the piece of quartz or granite, the sedimentary rock with mica flecks, the conglomerate somehow arriving in northport, the clamshell that had been home to some northeast clam, the sand in a bag, pebbles, flowers from the field, grasses that dried in the woods…all important souvenirs – unlike a perfunctory t-shirt – things that ground me, help me remember, things i can touch.

my sweet momma loved rocks too. growing up we had a rock garden out back and their tv stand was a huge slab of rock that they moved on a moving van down to florida with them when they left long island. i always knew that i could give her something made of rock, made of wood, something natural, something organic, and she would celebrate it….with all her heart. she got it. that feeling of staying connected with the land she loved, the earth, the very soil, the very spot that gave her a memory. i get that. the rocks around our pond and scattered inside our house, the pebbles in my purse, the 6 foot long aspen branch in our dining room are evidence. the driftwood – and the sand – on our table make it clear.

i am thready, just like my sweet momma. i blame her.

thank you, momma.IMG_1853

www.kerrisherwood.com

itunes: kerri sherwood