Whole wheat chocolate chunk cookie dough
Flourishing house plants wrapped in tiny white lights
My daughter’s new friend Olivia
Early morning pilates
Watercolors by a 3-year-old that seem legitimately artistic (and lots of them)
Chubby chunky baby thighs
My teenage sourdough starter—temperamental but maturing.
I have to admit, I’m feeling a wee bit stuck. I don’t have a creative outlet right now, other than cooking. In that department, I check on my sourdough starter every couple hours, even though I know it’s not going to be ready for bread-baking until next week at the earliest.
A few nights ago, I spent an embarrassingly long time online trying to find interesting, tasteful cross stitch patterns (to no avail, except for one etsy shop—seriously, only one was not knick-knacky).
I have it in my head that I can learn to play the hammered dulcimer well enough to play Christmas carols for a crowd and/or at weddings.
No available cross stitch supplies and certainly no dulcimer. Ingredients for tabbouleh, but no desire to sit and chop parsley.
I do not like it when Ellary comes along and scribbles on the Dora page I am coloring with her new crayons.
So here I sit complaining, not sure what to do. I guess I’ll stare at my Christmas cactus, finally blooming and becoming beautiful again. I am green with envy.
This is one of my all-time favorite paintings. One steady brush stroke, so graphic and pristine.
It’s called “Winter Road” by Georgia O’Keeffe.
(As an aside, I haven’t looked at her paintings in awhile. Man, was she naughty.)
My last semester of college, I felt like I was coming into my own as a photographer. I had completely stopped taking documentaries or portraits. I was obsessed with creating photos that mimicked painting, and I started to just “paint” on the film with water and flashes of light. I guess I could have been an artist, if I’d had the determination.
I took this photo tonight (seven years later), moody November dusk. It made me think of Turner, and I like the modern element the porch lights add. I think if I were an artist, I would want my art to be impressionistic at the very very most. It would evoke a feeling before it was comprehended, but the comprehension would enhance the experience.
The girls and I took a nature walk today and hunted for treasures. Ellary was partial to pine needles. This photo turned out like an oil painting.
I have arms for bedtime hugs. And I’m terrible at math, but I can help with homework.
(via Proverbs 30:8)
(photo by Shweppy)