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My Craft Fair Initiation: Part One

“I think you should do it.”

That’s the Bohemian next to me in the dark. It’s past bedtime and I’m draining my brain of the last bits of random thoughts, asking his advice.

I’ve recently learned of a craft fair soon to take place on our island, and I’m wondering if I should actually get a table and share my photography note cards. The deadline to submit an application is approaching. Newbies, must enter their craft to be juried.

The Bohemian’s bedtime affirmation seals the deal. I enter my cards. I receive approval and an application. I submit necessary paperwork. I download free online guides offering advice on what to bring to a craft fair. I steep myself in inventory management.

 

2014-05-10_crafters fair

 

I have never been much of a craft fair shopper, and except for that one summer in Massachusetts when I sat with my friend and her hand painted silk scarves, I have never been a vendor at one.

Now, I have about 200 note cards, and a box packed with tape, glue, pens, (a ton of one dollar bills), and a variety of table accessories. I am officially selling my wares at an event I know little about, on a day that seems to be jam-packed with festivals, fairs and gatherings, island-wide. If you’re looking for something to do on Kauai on May 10th, well, take your pick.

This day before Mother’s Day, there will be music at the Bay, orchids at the mall, a centennial celebration at the County building, and a rally of activists to garner signatures placing a non-GMO charter amendment on the ballot. If none of that suits you, you can choose from at least four craft fairs occurring at each compass point of the island. And if you’re in the mood, they’ve even fired up the old-fashioned plantation train and are offering free rides for what is now being deemed, “Train Day.”

Or, of course, you could come by the Kauai Veteran’s Center and visit me.

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I’ll be the one surrounded by craft fair masters, hoping they will be kind as I fumble my way through a virgin table set-up. I’ll have the Bohemian there for steadiness and humor. But after a certain time I know he will tire of vending, and I’ll lose the draw of his good looks to the aisles of nearby Home Depot. To tell the truth, I wouldn’t blame him for stopping by the lawn of the County building for the free food and hula.

In the end, I know the outcome doesn’t really matter in this crafting/selling venture of mine. I’m in it for the experience, and any scenario will at least provide for a great story (which will make its way here to the Archives, I’m sure).

It’s been with great pleasure over this last year that I’ve been gifting these note cards to friends and family. Putting an array of them out on a table for display is just another way of sharing the love. Making connections.

And as always, following some thread….

Wish me luck. I’ll keep you posted.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 4 Comments

Note Card of the Week – Mother Plant

Note Cards from Love Letters Press
Note Cards from Love Letters Press

 

A plant of many names (Air Plant, Life Plant, Miracle Leaf), it has found a home in areas of Hawaiian jungle, and was propagated by me in a pot in my back yard. I’ve also heard it called “Mother Plant,” a name stemming from its easy ability to reproduce itself through multitudes of miniature plantlets that form on its leaves.

In my book, For the Archives, Volume 1: Love and Motherhood, the above photo accompanied the final vignette titled, “Taking a Pause with Peanut Butter Breath.” It chronicles an ordinary moment steeped in the bittersweet of deep Mother love.

In honor of Mother’s Day (May 11), I’m posting the “Peanut Butter Breath” post below.

I’m also highlighting the Mother Plant as my note card of the week, available at my Love Letters Press Etsy shop.

Here’s to Mother Earth, first and foremost. And to all the Mothers of the world, in their myriad of names and ways. Thanks, Mom.

 

 

October 28, 2011

Taking a Pause with Peanut Butter Breath

Dinner’s done, dishes washed, laundry folded, bed sheets changed.

Jeb’s completed his assigned 15 minutes of silent reading. It’s twenty minutes til bedtime and we still have drills and study for tomorrow’s geography, spelling and math tests.

He’s taking a pause, stretched out on my big bed.

He looks at me and pats beside him, “Mom, just come here for a minute.”

Seeing the hesitation on my face, he says with more earnestness, “Come on, I need this.”

Skeptics may suspect he’s trying to wriggle out of the multiple choice questions about his map of Nebraska. I don’t care. He’s thirty days shy of eight, and Jeb’s not going to be asking to cuddle up with me forever. Maybe I need this too.

I settle in at his side and he wraps his arms around me, throwing one long leg over mine.

We’ve been curling up like this since that first day when he moved from my womb to rest his wet cheek on my heart. All the days and nights. Each time our bodies found this comfort spot between us, familiar and grooved.

Except that his shape just keeps changing. The plump toes that used to graze my belly button, now stretch out towards my ankles. And that koala-bear body I could scoop up with one arm to adhere upon my hip, is sixty-five pounds and gaining. Nowadays, if Jeb falls asleep in the car, I have to wake him and walk him up the stairs.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

He gave up on me fifteen pounds back, but these days even the big guys in his life repeat the mantras.

“You’re getting too big now!”

“You’re heavy, I can’t lift you up anymore!”

“Whoa, you’re getting strong…be careful when you wrestle!”

But tonight, there is no rough house. Tonight Jeb asked for pause with me. He’s sidled up in my arms and as I embrace his frame I am amazed to find him delicate. He seems so small. Long, thin arms are hinged toothpicks. His fingers that trace my forehead, feathers. It feels as if I squeeze him too tightly he could break.

His eyes keenly scan my skin, noticing freckles and a scratch on my shoulder.

I feel the shape and weight of him within my arms. I soak in the delicacy of his boyish precipice. I am entwined in his limbs, these appendages that grew within me, cell by cell. This will all soon disappear.

In this, I am alone. He will never know.

Because I smile the mother’s smile. The one that holds the bittersweet. That we love with all our hearts. Body. Soul. Give to let it grow. One day the children will not need us. And this is what we want.

“Can you choke when you’re learning to swallow vitamins?”

His random question is close to my face. His breath, warm and without boundaries, exhaling peanut butter and honey sandwich across my cheeks. For a moment, I think to turn away, but catch myself.  Then breathe it in a little deeper.

 

Note Card: Mother Plant

Etsy_Stationary_motherplant
Love Letters Press on Etsy

 

Creating these cards makes me smile. Sharing them with you brings me happiness. Knowing that you may pass them on to someone you love, well, that’s just a beautiful thing.

All cards are hand-made, with care, on recycled paper.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Alight On

With my recent opening of a shop on Etsy, I’ve been feeling just a bit out of my element. It’s been an inspiring process of sharing my photography note cards with more people, but I’m definitely in new territory.

Etsy’s world features a kaleidoscope of work from some incredible artisans and master collectors. For shoppers, it’s a treasure trove of handcrafted items and vintage finds. As a shopkeeper, I’m diving into the Etsy storefront sea, full of Tips and Guides, Favorites and Follows.

Me and my little handmade note cards, we just got in the big kid’s pool and I’m learning how to tread in deeper waters.

So I’ll take it as a sign from the Powers That Be, when on yesterday’s beach walk, I found a supersonic diving light. Yes, right there at my feet, resting in the sand, was a huge specimen of a light source: the “UK Sunlight D8.” This is no ordinary flashlight.

Fashioned more like a gun that takes aim, the whole apparatus weighs about five pounds and even provides a handy wristband for safekeeping (though apparently it did not prevent its previous owner from losing it). The light still works, though I wonder if I could ever afford the cost of the replacement batteries that power this behemoth.

This is a diver’s light. Something used underwater at great depths, in order to shine the way for a human that is daring to explore foreign territory, in elements not of their own.

Yes, a light has been cast upon my path.

Twin lamp technology
waterproof to 500 feet
high intensity xenon
shockproof

When this massive mystery light peeked out at me from the bushes at my feet, I looked all around but did not see a soul in sight. So I took the illuminating tool. Carried it all the way home, trying to maximize its resource by doing bicep curls along the way, until my arms just got too tired.

I’m sure the Bohemian and Jeb will have hours of entertainment just shining it around in the yard at night.

Me, I’ll probably use it most for metaphor. The flashlight description stamped on the side (shared above) makes for a decent poem in itself, I think.

I’m grateful for a little luminosity as I move about in the unfamiliar waters of virtual storefronts and online sales. A spotlight helps to hone my focus. And in light of that, I’ll state it here in case I lose sight.

I love to find beauty in an ordinary moment. It’s even more special when I can share it. If someone else feels inspired by that sharing, well then, the circle is complete. The appreciation grows. The love spreads. This makes me feel very happy.

I’ve been gifting friends and family my photography note cards for about a year now. Images that were once featured here on the Archives are now placed upon note cards, blank and waiting to hold the words of those choosing to mail a good old-fashioned letter. The inspiration of art passes through more hands. The sharing continues.

That is my beam of light. That is what I am illuminating. Sharing with you, you sharing with others. Pass it on…

Now that, lights me up.

photo courtesy of Amanda
photo courtesy of Amanda