Collage of Curiosities No. 18

October 2024

A haze of faded grasses whipped into a frenzy by passing vehicles, their inflorescences shimmering in the sunlight.

- a note from the road early October.

This month has been full. Full of joy and some sorrow. My heart has gone through the full range of emotions as the shadows have grown longer.

I'm basking in the quiet moments and taking stock of everything. The glowing light of the lower sun highlights the minutest details nature has within her. The spiderwebs on seedheads glistening with dew. Purple wands of sage backlit by the sunset. Pink Muhly grass looking like cotton candy peppering the landscape. 

All of it a comfort, and leaving me with the sweetest heartache.

At the beginning of the month I found myself in Chestertown, Maryland on a retreat with my mastermind group Wonder, run by Sarah Rafferty of Atwater Designs. We gather, many of us for the first time, to discuss our businesses and life. There was a lot of time spent reflecting, dreaming, and troubleshooting all against the backdrop of an Autumnal Eastern Shore.

However, home follows us everywhere we go. The second day, I moved one of my bags in our AirBnb only to notice a vintage Pensacola, Florida sticker peeling off the side of a steamer trunk I was using as a luggage stand. Madness.

So far this year I have harvested 29 of my Seminole pumpkins. It was about as minimal effort as one could ask for. I stuck two seeds in my old compost pile and watched the vines romp away. Occasionally, I redirected them but most left them to their own devices. They clambered through the woods and up small trees. I found pumpkins hanging like little orange balloons. The vines turned my woodland edge into an Autumnal dreamscape for some time.

There are still a few remaining pumpkins to harvest for the season. I have plans to cook with them, as well as feed them to the pigs and chickens.

Feature in the October/November issue of “Emerald Coast Magazine,” pages 71-4.

In Ffield's caase, life imitates art and art imitates life. She's cultivated a spand and a life where nature and her art move in tandem.

-Rebecca Padgett Frett, "From Field to Easel" Emerald Coast Magazine

This month we unexpectedly had to say goodbye to our sweet Zoe. Technically my mom’s girl, she was a part of the pack at our house often and melted in. We lived at my mother’s while our house was being repaired after Hurricane Sally and afterward Zoe was a frequent long-term visitor at our house. I’ll never forget her velvety ears and how she pranced like a pony when excited. That’s saying a lot for a girl that topped out at over 100 pounds at one time.

Any dog lover knows that dogs tend to come into our lives at the right time. In our case, it was just weeks before my grandmother died that Zoe was found abandoned still full of milk from puppies and my mother agreed to foster her. When we got word of my grandmother’s stroke, Zoe drove up to Saint Louis with my sister and me in my old Jeep to meet my mom who’d already hopped on a plane. My grandmother passed (miss you Gram) and right around this time, the vet posted a picture of Zoe with the word “Adopted” below. She was ours. With great sadness there always seems to be something bright, and it happened to be a big white dog. Zoe came out of nowhere and was an unexpected comfort to us all on more than one occasion.

We’ll miss you baby girl.

Autumn is my favorite season. There’s nothing I love more than the turn of the weather. The flash of brilliance before the bones of the Earth become exposed. It’s the grand finale of the growing year.

My whole philosophy with decorating is about blurring the lines between in and out. The inside is just a little more cocoon-like than the outside. This year I’ve brought grapevines from the woods right up to the front door and arranged my own harvested pumpkins (plus a couple of special ones I purchased) in a celebration of the season.

I continued with the grapevines inside and included a couple of select witch-inspired decorations. Honestly, my home lends itself to the season. The dark mahogany paneling, the antique furniture, the tarnished silver, and even the skulls (all with a story behind them) are permanent fixtures.