we don’t know tomorrow, but we know that right now, we are here.

a list kind of day.


1. bagels for breakfast. the good-french-dense-chewy kind.
2. the heat of the summer, the way it slows me down like molasses.
3. remembering how much i love Justin Rutledge’s No Never Alone album. 7 years old and never sounded so good.
4. en masse felting with a brave, if somewhat reluctant, group of women.
5. warm wind and beach glass and waves crashing against shoreline.
6. clothesline weather.
7. heart shaped pebbles and driftwood logs that makes my heart ache.
8. brave on the rocks.
9. summer skirts.
10. devilled eggs on the back deck. decaf coffee in the grass. gratitude.

cut and paste

this is my voice. there are many like it. but this one is mine.

sabrina ward harrison

sabrina ward harrison

for the last 6 weeks or so, i’ve been spending my Thursday mornings with the brave art makers at Green Wood Coalition writing poems. we put down paints and brushes for a while, and picked up paper and pens. and we’ve been writing our way down courageous roads, opening new doors inside ourselves, and unleashing our honest-loving-wounded-hearts.

it’s been nothing short of amazing.

we decided at the start that it wasn’t about writing poems that rhymed (though some of them do), or that even necessarily followed any sort of form (though some of them did). it wasn’t going to be about proper spelling, or vast vocabulary, or even being very good at reading.

poems didn’t have to be long. they didn’t need to be succinct.
they just needed to be true. to be honest.

we just needed to start to believe that we all had something worth saying, and we were all worthy of being heard.

and i think we’ve done that.
at least i hope we have.

this Thursday night, at Harry\’s Little City of Bricks in Port Hope, at 7pm, this brave group of new writers is going to be host to an Open Mic poetry night. we want everyone to come, armed with some words to share. we’re going to try our best to share some of what we’ve been working on, including a self-published poetry Zine of some of our selected writing,  that will be for sale that night.

we’d love to see you there with poems in hand. you don’t have to have it perfect. you can even do it afraid. you’ll be in good company.

you’ve got something worth saying, and we’d love to hear it.

come join us. it’s gonna be great.

……

a library burned…

“When an old man dies, a library burns to the ground”

...

...

I parked outside the bakery and decided to walk to the church. The sun was warm and even though I didn’t know exactly where I was going, I figured the village was small and surely it wouldn’t take me too long. Besides, the fresh air would do me good. Clear my head. I wanted the walk to give me time to wander through some memories.

I didn’t know Lavern for long, or even very well. He’d lived out his 93 years in a village where everyone seemed to know him by name, and it was only in this last year of his life that I had the privilege of meeting him.  I think I loved him the moment I met him – he was alive in a way that was contagious. His roots went deep, his feet so planted in community…he was a man who knew where he came from…and every time I saw him he seemed to be living every day fully, completely.

All I really knew about this tall, bright eyed man, were his stories and his smile. To me, he really was a walking, living, library. Nearly a centuries worth of tales were stored in his bones, and he let them flow out of him like water…this unstoppable river…He was a story collector in the truest sense. Binders full of paper clippings and a mind full of memories. He kept the history of a village alive.

I eventually found my way to the church, the walk a bit longer, the village a bit bigger, than I’d expected.  Most of the faces in the pews were unfamiliar to me, but the one in the casket was the one I knew so well, the one I came to see. It was just a shadow of that beloved story collector…the sparkle in his eyes now gone, the smile faded. It really is that spirit part of us that makes us come alive, isn’t it?  Our bodies, just a shell. Today, in that little church, Lavern was the subject of all the stories shared. And I saw how the ordinary life of an ordinary man could touch an entire community.

I will miss his light in that little place. And I regret all the conversations I wanted to, but never had, with him. But I can’t really think of a better sign of a life well lived, then a village church full of laughter and tears and stories, and a community who, even after 93 years, was nowhere close to feeling like they’d had enough.

Thank you, dear old story teller, for bringing such delight to this girl’s heart. A library burned to the ground with your passing, but the gift of your life is a story that won’t soon be forgotten.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
– Mary Oliver
……

calm the storm.

veronica derry
veronica derry

1. her work inspires me every time.

2. fishing the Ganaraska no matter the weather

3. this song makes me want to dance. guilty pleasure? nah. no guilt. only pleasure. (don’t waste your time on the video, just dance to the song. trust me.)

4. the fear of being alone spans the spectrum from old to young.

5. felting with the Wonder Women…the moment of realizing who was missing from the table. death is greedy sometimes.

6. two days straight of making art with brave hearts, in rooms full of stories.

7. my artist friends who gather here every Thursday morning are some of my favorite humans. whatever i have taught them about art pales in the light of what they have taught me about courage, generosity, and community.

brave art.

brave art.

8. watching connections happen in wordless places, armed only with pastels and quiet questions.

9. driving home down wet and dark country roads, longing for spring.

10. learning to let go and trust.

makin’ things happen

over the last few weeks i’ve been to a few different houses-turned-art galleries, where couches have been pushed aside and walls and tables have been filled with one-of-a-kinds and handmade goods.

today i kept company with a dozen other art makers, transforming a local cafe into an indie craft marketplace.

a couple nights ago i sat cozied up in an over-sized armchair in a strangers living room/concert hall, just across the street from this little nest, while the sweet songs of Awna Teixeira and Luther Wright bounced around the walls amidst the chatter of neighbours and the patter of a little dogs feet.

and it’s got me thinking about people who make inspiring things happen in unsuspecting places. and it’s got me feeling proud to have friends and neighbours who see living rooms as concert halls and kitchens as art galleries and don’t let anything hold them back from spreading that creative love.

that sort of stuff gets me excited and grateful. i want to always be a part of that kind of grassroots creative movement.

i hope you do too.

sweet letterpress by the ever-inspiring jackson creek press

sweet letterpress by the ever-inspiring jackson creek press

Electric City Lights

electric city lights

electric city lights

…proud to be part of another great Gallery In The House show. Opening this Friday, running through till December 18th.

82 McDonnel Street, Peterborough.

supporting local artists does us all good.

…….

till things are brighter

till things are brighter

till things are brighter

…make your way to the Cameco Capital Performing Arts Center in Port Hope on Thursday November 3rd for a sweet evening of Johnny Cash goodness, all in the spirit of raising money and awareness of the good work of Green Wood Coalition…a grassroots initiative that Blackbird Studio is honored to work alongside of each week. And if an evening of Johnny Cash wasn’t grand enough, there’s going to be an inspiring art show in the lobby of the theatre, showcasing the work of the Green Wood Art Group. It’s going to be an evening you won’t want to miss.  Trust me.

Tickets are $20 in advance / $25 at the door.

8pm.

We’ll see you there…

before the wind and rain.

purple beauty. teeny green.

purple beauty. teeny green.

before the wind and the rain, there was a beauty of an afternoon, where the sun shone golden and the breeze moved quiet and the water sat still. a fall picnic with a hodge podge crew…a sculpture forest full of smooth stone…a few hours full of everything simple and extraordinary.

golden.

golden.

little fly.

little fly.

over your shoulder.

over your shoulder.

inching.

inching.

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Words + Photos + Credit

Unless otherwise noted, all original photography and text are property of Raechelle Kennedy. If you see or read something here and feel inspired to share it somehow, please be considerate and give the artist (me!) credit, or even better, drop me a note and make sure I don’t mind.
Thank you!

Here + There

Secondhand Sainthood and the gift of losing it all – Topology Magazine, December 2015

Ten Things Made – Topology Magazine, December 2015

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