by Darcy Wiley | Nov 17, 2012 | Buttons & Thread, Pencils & Pens, Preserve Your Story {31 Days}
I’ve got the measuring tape, a few cans of spray paint, an old cabinet door frame and some plans to head to the hardware store this morning. When I snapped a photo of my desk the other day, I did a study of the still life and took note of what it was that was crowding...
by Darcy Wiley | Nov 15, 2012 | Pencils & Pens, Pocket Change, Preserve Your Story {31 Days}
In previous lines of work, when I sat at the teacher’s desk adapting curriculum for little English language learners, or when I wrote and edited and created design full-time for church ministries, I’d hear the bell ring or watch the clock tick to 5:30 to close out my...
by Darcy Wiley | Nov 13, 2012 | Fresh-Cut Flowers, Pencils & Pens, Preserve Your Story {31 Days}
More than half of the trees have lost their leaves. My green pepper plants have shriveled up and fallen over. The newest tomatoes have suffered frost bite. The veggies have grown through drought and flood in this hearty stew of compost and peat and vermiculite, but...
by Darcy Wiley | Nov 7, 2012 | Pencils & Pens, Pocket Change, Preserve Your Story {31 Days}
This past summer, Austin Chapman clicked up the volume on a song he’d never heard. When the sound of angelic descants whirled into his ears from a recording of Mozart’s Lacrimosa, the young man wept. It wasn’t just the first time he’d heard this piece of music, it was...
by Darcy Wiley | Nov 5, 2012 | Pencils & Pens, Preserve Your Story {31 Days}
She takes her paint-less brush to Picasso’s canvas and flakes off bits of glue meant to salvage the painting after a thief slashed it in Paris in the 1950s. Here and now in the care of the Guggenheim, a conservator works on it more than a year, centimeter by...
by Darcy Wiley | Oct 30, 2012 | Pencils & Pens, Preserve Your Story {31 Days}
When I turn off the garbage disposal, I hear the sound of leaves shaking outside the window screens. Branches bounce, not in the wind, but with the force of something living. I lift my eyes and catch sight of a tiny trapeze artist swinging and jumping and somehow...