Author Archives: lindley
I meant to do my work today {Inspiration Wednesday}
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The sun is surely sinking down {Photo Friday}
Occasionally I play reporter at the day job, which lets me take a camera to interesting places.
This time it was the Key Bridge Marriott in Arlington, VA, just across the river from Georgetown.
Between shooting photos of speakers and attendees at a networking event, I got to look at the fabulous view from the hotel’s top floor.
Then it was all frantic note-taking and speaker-photographing for an hour.
Not a fan of rooms full of strangers, I slipped out after the event and in my hurry to go home almost missed the lovely view from the hallway outside.
That’s the Potomac River.
Georgetown and the National Cathedral in the distance.
My Lady’s Presence {Inspiration Wednesday}
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Twisting vines {Texture Tuesday}
Let’s look at trees again today. I found these vine-covered beauties near Natural Bridge, VA.
{Want more? Check out all the Texture Tuesday posts.}
A Postcard to Henry Purcell {Monday Music}
“A Postcard to Henry Purcell” is the haunting melody from Elizabeth and Darcy’s dance scene in the 2005 movie Pride and Prejudice.
Wikipedia says that “‘A Postcard To Henry Purcell’ is based on a theme from Henry Purcell‘s incidental music for Abdelazar, also used by Benjamin Britten in The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra.”
{Missed a Monday? Want more lovely listening? Here are all the Monday Music posts.}
A private place {Photo Friday}
How did we manage to fit so much into one day on that Portland trip? In addition to all these wonderful things, we found a half-abandoned municipal park on the mountain’s lowest slopes and had it all to ourselves for an hour.
{See everything from Oregon here.}
The Princess {Inspiration Wednesday}
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The Princess
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How to Put a Rivoli Crystal in a Silver Bezel {Tutorial}
Swarovski’s rivoli crystals are all the rage right now, with good reason: They’re round, colorful and incredibly sparkly. Jewelry makers have been enclosing them with woven beads and metal bezels.
The backs of these little beauties are pointed, so working with them is a bit different from flat-backed crystals.
Today, we’re going to capture a rivoli in a beautiful crown-shaped sterling silver bezel setting. The crystals in the photos are 14 millimeters wide, a nice size for larger earrings or petite pendants.
Materials
- Swarovski rivoli crystal (#1122)
- Sterling silver rivoli bezel setting in matching size (e.g., a 14-millimeter bezel for a 14-millimeter crystal)
- Burnishing tool
- Scrap fleece or other fabric (optional)
Walkthrough
Step 1. Place the rivoli crystal in the bezel, with the colored side facing up toward the top of the “crown.”
Step 2. Hold the crystal and bezel between your thumb and forefinger as shown. Use the burnisher to press down the edges of the bezel onto the crystal.
Be careful: The burnisher’s tip is sharp and can scratch the crystal. Try cushioning the crystal with a scrap piece of fleece between your finger and the crystal’s top.
Step 3. Work your way around the edge, pressing as you go. It may take several trips around the bezel to get the edges evenly pressed down.
The end result: Repeat with a second crystal and bezel for sparkling earrings, or clasp on a sterling jump ring and slip onto a silver chain for a stunning pendant.
{Check out the rest of the Amethyst and Amber tutorials}
Speaking a Dead Language {Monday Music}
After making a splash as a recording artist in the early 2000s, Joy Williams disappeared, resurfacing in 2009 with new EPs and a new record label. By now, you might have heard of her via her part in the folk duo The Civil Wars.
Today’s song is one of her solo pieces (and one of the two featured on Grey’s Anatomy).
Speaking a Dead Language – Joy Williams
We built a tall, tall tower
Towards the sun, towards the sun
Took some words and built a wall
And called it love, called it love
Somewhere in all the talking, the meaning faded out
Oh, I wonder when did it all stop making sense?
I don’t understand
I remember, we were so sure, so innocent
Oh, but that was then
Can we ever go back again?
Can we ever go back?
You’re speaking a dead, dead language
You don’t sound like yourself
I hope it’s just lost in translation
So why don’t you show, don’t try to tell
Brick by brick, we started crumbling
Will I find you when it falls?
Oh, I wonder when did it all stop making sense?
I don’t understand
I remember, we were so sure, so innocent
Oh, but that was then
Can we ever go back?
Don’t hold your breath
Look around
Try to add it up, pin it down
But you can’t
Oh, I wonder when did it all stop making sense?
I don’t understand
I remember, we were so sure, so innocent
Oh, but that was then
Can we ever go back again?
Can we ever go back?
{Missed a Monday? Want more lovely listening? Here are all the Monday Music posts.}
What I learned in a field just outside Parkdale, Oregon {Photo Friday}
On the first full day of our Portland trip, I couldn’t shake off the vicious headache from the cross-country flight the day before.
We spent the day exploring, shivering, discovering Trillium Lake, crossing bridges. As the day wore on, I got crankier and groggier and all-around miserable. Determined not to waste time, I insisted we keep going.
Finally, after circumnavigating the entire mountain and pretending to be fine, I admitted defeat. We ended up huddled in folding chairs over a rickety table inside a grocery store in tiny Parkdale, Oregon.
After caffeine, water, and some food (a lack of all three probably hadn’t helped), the tiny-but-vicious pickax swingers in my skull subsided a bit. Sweet relief.
Good timing, too. It was almost golden hour, and we had no more plans for the day. I’d caught a glimpse of Mount Hood past the buildings as we drove into Parkdale, and was determined to find a vantage point. An entire day in the area, and we hadn’t actually seen the mountain since we landed — it had been veiled by fog or just out of sight.
The land right around Parkdale is very flat, so the choice of direction was easy. Toward the mountain peeking over the rooftops.
A quarter mile out of town, the trees fell away into even fields on one side of the highway and an immaculate orchard on the other. Luckily, the highway had broad shoulders and little traffic, because I’d finally found the perfect spot to see the mountain.
I dove for the shoulder, parked the car in a daze, left The Programmer patiently waiting in the passenger seat, and just stood on the shoulder and stared.
Barring a long-ago trip to Illinois, this journey was my first venture off the east coast. On some obscure level, I was a bit worried that seeing amazing things in person might somehow make them less special, less imposing, less incredible.
Oh, how wrong I was.
{See everything from Oregon here.}
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