“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


2 Years and It Comes with Snow

Outside it smells like Christmas. There is a white sky turning black as nighttime moves in, there is a prediction of snow for tomorrow, which brought sighs and I don't wants from me until I remembered that tomorrow is also my 2nd blogiversary and I will take a little snow with that, a bit more magic from the Texas sky and yes, once again, I will hold out my hands and catch all the magic I can.

And once again - the painting that began it all for me, the painting that changed my life. The painting that dared me to tell you stories, to take you on a midnight stroll down my street, through my life, dared me to not care, at least not right out loud, if no one read me or liked me, dared me to catch all the magic I could for me and see what came of it. And what came of it has been more than I would have thought possible.

I have nothing to say, I used to tell the ever-wonderful Michael, when he asked why I didn't paint more - I know I've mentioned that to you. I still feel that way, I have nothing to talk about, nothing to show you, and yet you are still here, so many of you from way way back when I thought no one was listening. When I think of Emma Tree, I think of owls and nighttime and blue skies and loss and heartbreak and pear tree blossoms and the moon and summertime naps and cats gone and cats going, and weddings and blue lights wrapped around a spiral staircase and raccoons and cardinals, and every year a yard full of robins, and bare feet and dreams and magnolia trees frosted with snow. I think of unfurling ribbons and white handprints on silver paint, candlelight and blue chairs and shadows and thunderstorms and wet leaves tracked through the house, and the too-early late Willy deVille on the stereo. I think of this place, this time and I wonder if I moved would I give it a new name, would it still be Emma Tree, and I don't know, I truly don't, it is such a part of this time of my life, this place of my life, that it would almost feel wrong to take it with me. And yet, how could I not? It is the story of my days and that is all, I think, but I have to laugh because last week when my links began to disappear and I despaired of ever having this place back in order, I was in tears lest my words be lost, staying late at work to save text files on a separate drive, printing out page after page of stories, crying in my office until the deed was done.

Just the story of my days.
Such small days they are.
But they are full of magic.
And I admit there are days I forget that,
forget to just hold out my hands
and catch it.
But there are other days I remember
and my hands overflow.

Thank you.
I cannot say it enough.


  1. this was amazing...
    the poem at the end....or at least the words in a poem shape at the end.....so honest, so perfect !

  2. Happy happy second blogiversary Debi! I love reading your stories, and your blog is a beautiful turquoise place of calm. Your images are always poignant and make me pause and think. Love that Thank you~ (: xxVicki

  3. I totally adore your style of writing Debi. I feel from reading your words that we have much in common.
    I also adore the magic here, in your presence.
    Angels be with you. Wishing for you a truly magical day.

  4. you speak volumes, with more in the hopper, i am sure.

  5. may you always have more than your hands can hold Debi ...the magic is here as always..and wow that Texas sky !

  6. For a woman who has nothing to say, you have an eloquent way of saying it, of reaching out, even into the darkness and saying, yes, I am here, yes, I will speak, yes.

    And thus, catching the droplets of magic that linger there.

    The painting, the words, the poetry...sublime.

  7. it makes me beyond happy to have been with you all this time. you have been such a big part of my own creative life and i thank you for that and for holding out your hand to capture the magic. happy emmatree day! it might yet become a Texas Holiday when everyone goes takes a day off work in order to go out in search of magic!!

  8. such a powerful message in that painting ...

  9. Isn't that always it? We just have to remember to hold out our hands.

  10. When you used all of those magical words to describe what Emma Tree is to you, with each and every word a flood of memory came to my heart as I instantly recalled a vision or a feeling that you have stirred in me as I have followed you these last two years. Truly, every word. Your blog is precious, not just to you, but to me and to so many others. When you told me of your tears a couple weeks ago, I didn't really feel the impact until now..until I read this post and realised how deep this loss could have been for you. It's amazing how much heart and soul we put into these digital spaces, how meaningful they become for us. They become our personal histories. I would be just as devastated. I am so glad you were able to save those stories. And I am so glad you are still here.
    Love you.


come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .