Little Sacred Spaces

     When I created this arrangement in our living room it was not intended to be an altar, and yet it does include three of the elements necessary for a sacred nature space. The earth is represented by the fruit and bare twigs which are replaced by pussy willow in the Spring.  On the wall a partridge in a pear tree represents the element of air. Above that is my father's wood representation of the Great South Bay, the body of water near my childhood home.      The only element missing in this arrangement is fire. But one morning the sun hit the nearby piano lamp in such a way that it created a halo of light over this scene, transforming it into a sacred space. My husband recognized the beauty of this fleeting gift, and took the picture.      Homemade altars often include connections to and reminders of family members and ancestors. The music cabinet on which this arrangement sits belonged to my mother, and the doily was tatted by my paternal grandmother. The halo blesses all three

          I grew up in the little hamlet of Sayville on Long Island, New York, just a five-minute walk from the Great South Bay. Several ferries to Fire Island left from a dock at the end of our street. I took it for granted that I could visit the ocean beach almost any time my family or friends invited me to go. Every summer I spent as much time as possible swimming, sunbathing, getting burnt, and collecting shells.      When the time came for me to "spread my wings," I decided I had to get off Long Island so that I wouldn't have to drive through city traffic in order to travel anywhere else in the country. I also thought it was time to trade the ocean for mountains, and a different kind of scenery. I met my husband in the Rocky Mountains of Yellowstone Park. Later we lived near the Blue Ridge Mountains in Tennessee for seven years, and then 32 years in the Catskills of New York.      The mountains of upstate New York are beautiful, but I missed the ocean that had been s