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Tag Archives: kerri sherwood


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28 square feet. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

this brings me joy – stepping into this tiny little corner garden. each year it has been a place to wonder, to learn, to dream, to envision bounty. tiny as it is, it is a place of abundance and, even as autumn falls, i cherish its every bit of 28 square feet.

the parsley and the basil are still producing – they graced our homemade tomato soup last night. there are a few jalapeños left, still growing. the dill has dulled; the mint has faded. the cilantro has bolted time and again, despite my best efforts to convince it otherwise. the cherry tomatoes are ripening on the vine and the rosemary is a small tree. i suspect the rosemary will make its way inside for the winter. it all makes me think of next year’s planting – adding sweet potatoes in planters, more tomatoes, maybe a few other vegetables. it’s all been a lesson in embracing something new. it is a tiny space of zen.

we are considering some changes as we look around our house. in the cleaning-out mode, less and less is necessary. clearing away a child’s desk, a lateral file, unused appliances or electronics…it’s all fodder for the space we need – particularly in these times – for cherished quiet, for serenity. i am finding there is a direct connection between the more clear space and the more breath. it will take some time, as it has taken decades to acquire so many things. but we have time and, i believe, we have the wherewithal to go through our house, room by room, and invite in a sagefilled peace.

it’s really all about intention. though we do not live in a vast home and are not surrounded by vast acreage, we bring an intention to our home that is purposeful. as we move from room to room, slowly parsing out the unnecessary from the necessary or the wanteds, slowly replacing items with other items or replacing items with air-and-space, we tend to how it feels. we want to create a space in which we feel comforted, supported, valued. we want to create a space in which others feel comforted, supported, valued. we want a place filled with soul and acceptance of the inbetween moments in all of life.

today we’ll make a batch of pesto. as i look at the basil plants, i figure it will likely be the last batch this season. oh, there will be a bit for our homemade margherita pizzas, but not in real quantity. so we’ll go slow. snipping and rinsing, chopping and grating. we’ll talk about our garden – truly, for the umpteenth time. we’ll relish the pungent aroma of freshly-picked basil in the house.

and we’ll stand in the kitchen – looking at each other – with tears in our eyes – astonished at our good fortune.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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my one wish. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

sometime last week we noticed it. tucked into one of the trees along the lakefront park was this tiny “wishing palace”. i took a photo but didn’t make a wish. i’m thinking i should have made a wish. and now i’m thinking that every time we walk past this tree, we should stop and make a wish.

it’s the what-would-i-wish-for that’s tough, though.

because right now? there are too many things to wish. where does one start? what one thing might be the umbrella over all i would hope for?

how do i wrap up all the goodness i would wish for this country, this world? how do i wish for kindness to lead the way? how do i wish for equality and fairness, decency and compassion? how do i wish for all to live in peace? what is the wish when one desires everyone – every. one. – to have a fair shake at living well, at healthcare, at having food and shelter and necessities, at feeling valued? how do i wish for people to have opportunities for good work, for making a difference for others, for respect? how do i express a wish to dispel bigotry and racism, xenophobia, homophobia, misogyny, caste ladders of supposed entitlement? how do i wish for a stop to fealty to those who promote utter brutality and unconscionable treatment of others?

i’m gonna wish for everyone to awaken to the basics of humanity, to the golden rule (paraphrasing: do unto others as you would wish them to do unto you), to the elimination of cruelty and ruthless sadism, for evil intentions to be overcome by noble benevolence, for people to support one another.

but, you say, that’s a lot to wish for. what is your one wish? the one thing that embraces all of these, that overarches every virtuous wish?

i’m gonna wish for wokeness.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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what i said. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

it is impossible to even know what to say about this.

every day i wake up. the sun has not yet risen, the window is open; i hear the birds singing close by and in the distance. dogga stands and shakes in the adjacent sitting room where he likes to sleep at the end of the night, his collar making that tiny clinking sound from the attached tags. he comes in and jumps on the bed, his wagawag wagging.

and then – somewhere between the delicious unconsciousness of slumber and the first sip of coffee – i remember.

and, in all honesty, i cannot believe where this country is at.

it is beyond any wildly-imagined scope of shameful.

“mmm mm mmmmm mm.“

what i said.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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where is the dance? [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“the ink is black, the page is white/ together we learn to read and write/

a child is black, a child is white/ the whole world looks upon the sight…a beautiful sight.

and now a child can understand that this is the law of all the land, all the land.

the world is black, the world is white/ it turns by day and then by night/

a child is black, a child is white/ together they grow to see the light…to see the light.

and now at last we plainly see/ we’ll have a dance of liberty … liberty.”

(black and white – david arkin/earl robinson)

black and white was written in 1954 – the same year of the united states supreme court‘s decision of brown v board of education which outlawed racial segregation in public schools. it was recorded by pete seeger in 1956 and, with much more popularity – charting at number 1 – by three dog night in 1972.

clear messages.

the decision and the song.

at least they were.

the moral clarity of that decision is now clearly muddied in the sickeningly toxic waters – and also supreme court decision – of racial profiling in this administration’s efforts at mass deportation of immigrants.

some things are not black and white – things that fall into the grey of intelligent debate, the grey of historical perspective, the grey of interpretation that evolves with continual research seeking truth and information. memory is a bit grey, love is grey, indecision is grey, certainly apathy is grey.

but some things – in THIS democracy with THIS constitution, THIS bill of rights, THIS set of amendments – these things are black and white. clear. not bigoted. not racist. not xenophobic. not homophobic. not misogynistic.

but here we are.

what is it we wish our children to understand?

can they see the light?

where is the dance of liberty?

*****

IT’S NOT BLACK AND WHITE © 2010 kerri sherwood

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read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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the L box. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

mama dear repurposed gramps’ old wooden cigar boxes. she’d label them with a magic marker with a big Z or a big B on the front – which stood for zippers and buttons.

i have these old cigar boxes. The Z box now stores nespresso pods in our sunroom. the B box stores harmonicas, kazoos, egg shakers in my studio. the unlabeled corona cigar box is in the office and is loaded with business cards from days when my recording label was flourishing.

the zippers from the Z box are in with my sewing supplies.

and the buttons from the B box? there is a giant collection of buttons. tiny buttons, metal buttons, plastic buttons, wooden buttons, buttons with distinction, whimsical buttons, spare buttons in those tiny plastic bags along with a bit of matching colored thread – that used to come with every blazer, every shirt, every coat.

it is a direct connect to pass by these button-flowers – these fading daisies in the meadow – and think of mama dear, my grandmother, my sweet momma’s mom. she is the person who taught me how to sew and i simply cannot so much as thread a needle without thinking of her.

i found a letter from mama dear the other day. it was from early 1980. i was 20. in it she thanked me for a christmas gift i had given her and a card i had sent from a trip to visit my parents. no one knew at the time it would be her last holiday season. born in 1899, she was a feisty almost-81 with bright red hair and a penchant for gambling slot machines in vegas. in her letter she wrote, “i hope you are happy with your choice” referring to my staying in new york instead of going to florida with my parents as they retired.

at the time it wasn’t really a difficult choice. i was at the beginning stages of a composing/recording/performing career and retirement-central wasn’t the place to grow. so, yes, i was happy with my choice. until one day when that choice became dangerous and i fled all semblance of my budding career, leaving any feisty i had inherited from mama dear behind, devastatingly leaving all artistry buds behind for decades to come.

the button-flowers are charming. they punctuate the masses of goldenrod lighting up the meadows. and they make me think of my button collection.

i have no idea what i will do with all of those buttons. i suppose one day i will list them on marketplace and give them away to a seamstress or crafter who will make creative use of them. maybe i will tell them a little about mama dear, about how many of these buttons are vintage, about how they carry a spirit of feisty red-headed grandma in them.

or maybe i’ll just quietly gift them the collection and hold onto the feisty myself.

and every time i pass a button-daisy on the side of a trail i’ll check in – inside – and make sure it’s still there – the feisty – still growing, still challenging me, still repurposing into profound and important choices for the L box. Life.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

66 and 19. (david robinson)

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buckle up. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it’s a new season. the signs are all around us. the windows are open, letting in cool breezes.

and yesterday – of all days – i opened instagram to the suggested reel of a small child i had never seen before, never heard of.

there she was – the tiniest little imp of a girl – all buckled into her carseat, saying: “you can’t worry about what other people think. i mean, have you MET other people?”

this darling little girl – maybe 4 or 5 in this video.

and then, a few more words, words to work on taking straight into my heart:

“people don’t have to like you. people don’t have to love you. they don’t even have to respect you. but when you look in the mirror you better love what you see…you better love what you see.”

red leaves. windows open. wise words.

it is a new season. buckle up.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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little. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

we had all but given up.

pretty much each year – for years – we have had a frog in our pond out back.

but this year there was simply nothing.

to say we were disappointed would understate how much these frogs have meant to us. we were pretty sad and wondered if we had done something that had inhibited a frog from choosing our tiny pond as a summer home.

until a few days ago.

d had seen a glimpse of green hopping in the water a few days prior, but we could not tiptoe up to the pond quietly enough to see it sunning on a rock or watching the world go by, tucked into a nook or cranny. we thought it was simply a momentary visit.

on thursday, though, we had a lucky day. and, as we stood quietly at the side of our pond, scouring the edges for a sighting of a frog, there he was.

little.

we named him “little” not at all having to do with his import to us, but because he seemed one of the smallest frogs to have lived in our pond.

you would have thought we had found gold coins hidden in the rocks of our water feature – our excitement was off the charts.

and – because every frog needs a theme song – i could instantly hear his in my head (sung to the tune of sugar, sugar by the archies): little – ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba/ oh, little little ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba/ you are our tiny frog/ and you got us hop-hoppin. (etc etc etc)

each year has brought a different reason to look for the meaning of a frog’s visit in our personal world. each year the resilience and transformation, renewal and abundance messages have been positive bits of symbolism for us and have made us feel that grace has dropped in for a visit.

this year is no different. little’s appearance has been like a single candle lit in a dark night – a warm glow, a talisman for reflection and hope.

we never know how long the frog will stay. but we do know that just making an appearance is a gift. for our small pond – in the middle of other suburban yards of grass and gardens – is maybe 18 square feet – and it seems fortuitous that a tiny frog would even find it.

but maybe somewhere in frogland there is a list…and frogs can check it – like airbnb – to see where they might find a little pond they can call their own. or maybe where it is they may be named and doted upon. or maybe where it is they might get their own theme song.

we hope little hangs around for a while.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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that which to hold close. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“life is strange. you arrive with nothing, spend your whole life chasing everything, and still leave with nothing. make sure your soul gains more than your hands.” (no attribution)

it’s happening.

we can feel it.

i stood in his shop’s driveway talking to our beloved mechanic. “a simple life,” we agreed. we just want to live a simple life. not a life lived for or gauged on the stuff we have.

because that stuff – the stuff of life – inundates us. everywhere we look people are chasing it – a materialism that just never culminates in any moment where it is “enough”.

and in these unbelievably fraught times, stuff seems even less important than it ever did.

one of my best friends from high school sent me a bunch of texts early this past week. we were out on a trail, trying to soak up sun and hold at bay the yucky cold symptoms we were experiencing. suddenly, there were multiple notifications. he had become a first-time grandpa.

i stopped short on the trail and looked at the photographs of the baby girl just born into this world. i was overwhelmed by the sheer miracle of that and the miracle that this man and i had been friends for over fifty years (despite seeing each other only once in all that time since high school) and – back then – it would have been hard to imagine the moment i was experiencing: standing on a trail in a completely different state five decades later while he shared the moment of his entry into grandparenthood. truly a remarkable gift.

there were other moments this week, moments when i felt more connected to the world: talking with the woman with the jeep in the parking lot at the market when we went to pick up more advil, the frog that suddenly showed up in our pond, the jalapeños we grew that were ready for picking, a note from a dear friend to “stay strong”. we virtual-tracked our daughter running an incredible half-marathon in the mountains and we listened to our son’s music online. friends checked in to ask if we needed anything. the other side of the spectrum from feeling appalled by the world.

soon it will be time to resume the cleaning out. i told our mechanic about the sentimental person’s guide to decluttering book i had purchased (hoping for osmosis to make it stick) and another title i had seen: “nobody wants your sh*t“, which we both found infinitely funny. and true. because it is. true, that is.

i remember when my sweet momma – in acts of generosity and kindness – began to give away possessions. she knew. she knew how little all that stuff really mattered. and, in these quieter moments of getting a bit older, i – we – can see that, even more than before. especially in these times.

it would seem that dropping the shopping bags and the trappings of the ladder are thresholds into the gains of one’s soul, into the real stuff of life – because, as my poppo used to say about the other stuff, “you can’t take it with you.“

and it would seem that – instead of the receipts of chasing and chasing – the buddhist prayer is that which to hold close:

“may you be happy. may you be at peace. may you be free of danger. may you be loved.”

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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what’s next. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

every single day. the insanity, the chaos – it is all exhausting.

there is nothing beautiful about the goings-on in this america-the-beautiful as it is led by cruelty and bigotry beyond belief. we are inside their sickness, a violent extremism that is gutting the heart of this democracy.

it makes me lean on a card i have in my studio. i received it from a dear friend in 2012, shortly after my sweet poppo died. i’ve quoted it before, but it certainly bears repeating. it reads:

“life is slippery. here, take my hand.” (h. jackson browne, jr. )

now, it seems, is a good time to take one another’s hand.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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the acorn. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

there are plenty of trees where we hike. oaks, sycamores, birch, maples, pine, hickory, black walnut…there is quite a list. so it is no surprise that, as we are hiking, there are browned acorns, drying acorn shells and big black walnuts dropped on the trail, scattered everywhere, even dropping on us as we walk.

when i came across this branch, it was the brilliant green of the acorn that got my attention, the too-soon-ness of its place on our trail. i wondered – for a few moments – about what broke this branch that fell. it occurred to me that its natural aging, its natural place in the ecosystem of wildlife and forest had changed; this tree had somehow stress-shed this branch, this acorn.

there’s a lot of too-soon-ness…especially now, i think to myself.

and – a few moments later – i was back pondering the lists in my head…the to-dos, the worries, the problems to sort, the existential questions.

“lists engulf us – creating the illusion that our lives are full.” (plain and simple journal – sue bender)

the lists swirled and i organized them in the spaces of my brain as we walked in the early part of our hike.

but – in the way that being out in the forest, along the river, skirting meadows on a trail does – it all slowed down. and the joy of the trail took over. and, instead of the noise – internally or externally – the quiet serenity held my attention.

and this morning i find myself – once again – grateful for the sheer moment. even in this moment of the throes of a miserable cold, i am grateful for the simplicity of our givens.

“in that tiny space between all the givens is freedom.” (s.b.)

and it nudges me to simplify even more. the space of needing less, of making do, of knowing not a lot really matters.

the acorn is an ancient nordic symbol of life. my sweet momma kept a silver one in her purse and, now, so do i. maybe the acorn on our path was there to remind us.

“it’s time to celebrate the lives we do have.” (s.b.)

*****

peace © 2004 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.