At the end August, we moved home and office to a new building south of Center City Philadelphia. The new Old Brownstone is a great corner building, and Loop has it’s own room on the first floor that feels dangerously like a professional office [ it used to be a doctor’s waiting + examination room, we think ] … I finally have a desk AND a drawing table separately … [ oh, did you hear that deep sigh ! ] This may not sound like much, but it means everything to a creative business owner. In running Loop, I often feel the strong pull of two very opposing forces – as an artist, I have a strong need to forget about the clock, but as a business owner and Wearer of Many Hats, I have to be on top of deadlines, schedules + goals. So this room helps foster both, all with a cozy chair in the corner and cardboard boxes for my cat, Max, to nest in.
[ That’s Max in the hallway, above, with his trusty sidekick, Spidey. Every morning, a howling begins upstairs as Max carries Spidey in his mouth down to my office, plops him down to show me what a good boy he is, and then he trots off to sleep. And every night, as we’re relaxing in the living room, the up the stairs swaggers Max, happy to return Spidey to us and receive extra pets in payment. ]
Also above : The foyer light just inside the front door casts the most celestial light, as do the star lanterns my husband put up for our first house party. The back garden held all 70” of snow Philadelphia received this winter, and as it melted, the birds moved back in.
Philadelphia finds me fitful after a restorative trip to Vermont. The threads of my spirit are woven through with pine needles which slip out of my hair and from the folds of my clothing now that I am back in urban climes; sometimes they soften into tears, reminding me of my first home. I will always be a country girl at heart, awash in solitary moments spent watching the landscape as if it were cinema. 
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