This card is using a wonderful image from the Joanna Sheen cdrom 'Age of Elegance'. Time and time again I go to this cd just because of the wonderful images. The border is made using a signature die from the Joanna Sheen range. I thought that I would post this one today to give you a break from christmas cards but they will be coming in droves...I've been making them for weeks and it seems as if I have loads more to do. I have a lot of orders to complete so every time I make one for an order, I try to make one for my own use. It seems to be the only way I'll get them done. I'm surrounded by lists of christmas cards with what people would like. This year even more than normal there seems to be so many orders for traditional images. A lot of the requests simply said that they wanted 'classic' christmas cards. I have been die cutting for Britain making boxes of holly leaves, mistletoe, pine branches and poinsettia. This year my 'thing' is making garlands and swags on the cards. What is really funny is that how now people expect to get a handmade card from me..if they don't get one for either christmas or their birthdays, they seem to think that I have fallen out with them! When I first began making cards many people thought it was because I couldn't afford a 'proper ' one..it's so funny how things change over the years. Thank goodness that people have started to realise just how much work can go into a handcrafted card. I get so much enjoyment from making cards..over the years buying good quality items for card makers has become so easy and it's thanks to all the proucers out there. To me there is nothing more exciting than looking at new products and thinking just how I can use them. Well I suppose I'd better be off and settle down to do some crafting. Wherever you are I hope you have a good day..so take care and happy crafting
Coming down out of the freezing sky
with its depths of light,
like an angel, or a Buddha with wings,
it was beautiful, and accurate,
striking the snow and whatever was there
with a force that left the imprint
of the tips of its wings — five feet apart —
and the grabbing thrust of its feet,
and the indentation of what had been running
through the white valleys of the snow —
and then it rose, gracefully,
and flew back to the frozen marshes
to lurk there, like a little lighthouse,
in the blue shadows —
so I thought:
maybe death isn’t darkness, after all,
but so much light wrapping itself around us —
as soft as feathers —
that we are instantly weary of looking, and looking,
and shut our eyes, not without amazement,
and let ourselves be carried,
as through the translucence of mica,
to the river that is without the least dapple or shadow,
that is nothing but light — scalding, aortal light —
in which we are washed and washed
out of our bones.
Author
Tuesday, 17 September 2013
Lady with a bow
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