I’m in love with warm sand. Toasty crystals warming my piggy toes on a sandy beach. Each grain telling its tale of far away places and a belonging to something greater, bigger than us. Pressured, eroded, carried and now appreciated in all its glassy glory. Pink, tan, purple, black, white – all welcomed and worthy. Taking a mason jar full, back to cloudy, cold spaces. Sand working its warm magic on cold, jaded hearts. Suggesting that we savor our warm fantasies as Winter is upon us.
Sprinkling this mineral magic in a table labyrinth. Inviting visitors to trace paths with miniature rakes and shovels. A path to the ocean, a valley or mountain range. A tactile field-trip if just for a moment. We are lifted to a space abundant in warmth and possibility. Warm sand soothes the sole soul.
A Fish Named Karen 