Home Is Where The Heart Is

There's something about the phrase Hunter Gatherer that harkens me back to a simpler time.  As women we go out and hunt and gather, we are natural forager. Perhaps, sadly now the Hunter Gatherer in us has been reduced to shopping.  As artists we collect what makes us whole and feeds our soul -all kinds of stuff. Corks, bottle caps, beads, shells, papers, photos, yarns, plants, sticks, feathers and stones you name it. They are the colors and textures that titillate our senses and fluffs our  nest.  It can be a beautiful world out there once you begin to look, dig and search. There tucked under a blade of grass or sitting on a stump, along a stone wall,  packed away deep and dusty a  forgotten treasure can be brand new once re-purposed again.

My sister and I went on an adventure a few days  ago.  Some where on the outskirts of Boulder Colorado we found ourselves  in the mountains along a winding road.  Sage colored wind swept grasses  hugged the earth while the trees towered above us reaching towards the sun. Along the road we came upon a vacant house that was for sale.  In the shade of the Evergreens the house sat dappled in sun light holding the memories of another lifetime,  of a family that picked up there things and left, moved on....  The picnic tables lay bare, crumbs long gone by the wind, bird or insect.  Stone paths remained,  passages made with good intentions we followed them around the house and peeked into the windows imagining what it would be like to have life once again running, humming, cooking and whistling in this house again.

The sounds of nature still remained with a constant drone the cycles of life continued.  The perpetual motion of the planets, birds and insects around us hummed on while the house stood stoic and still aging gracefully.  We had done a full lap around the house now and inspected the grounds.  We hypothesized about what was and what could be, we needed to get moving there was much more to do that day.  I looked over at my sister and her mouth was gaping with an expression of sheer awe.  I walked over to her and there along the stone wall by the house was a collection.  Some one or maybe the family had hunted and gathered up all different kinds of heart shaped rocks, there were hundreds of them.  Over the years, out of sentiment, respect or  love they were found and lovingly placed in a group. They silently laid there speckled in moss waiting to be discovered.

We had discovered them, we were elated we giggled in delight while a rush of love coursed through our senses.  It was a magical moment  indeed yet  touched with a tinge of sadness.  Why was this home left empty?   Why were these hearts left behind?  What ever the intention was it left an impression on me that there was love here and this is what was left behind as a reminder of home is where the heart is.