pleasance

for eighteen years, until i was thirteen years old, my family lived in a tiny house on hood street. mrs. strand, one of our elderly neighbor ladies - the nice one - loved flowers. her tidy backyard was bordered with flowers on all sides. the irises and peonies that grew along the chain-link fence separating our yard from hers grew through the links of the fence, brightening our yard. mrs. strand always let us pick a few of the peonies that poked through. i remember occasionally wearing a peony to church, pinned to my pretty dress. my mom and i loved those flowers. twelve years ago we packed up and moved - moved away from the tiny house on hood street, away from mrs. strand, away from mrs. strand's peonies.

last may i went to the nursery and found one spindly little peony bush (they are supposed to be planted in the fall) to give to mom for mother's day. by the end of a hot kansas summer, the bush was, by all appearances, dead. so much for that gift, i thought. this weekend, however, i drove back to wichita for a visit, and to my surprise, saw that the bush had sprung back to life this year. it was bigger. it was green, despite the fact that snow had fallen on it the night before. the sight of that little peony bush filled me with pleasure, joy, hope, enthusiasm for the future.

the Lord is indeed good.

from the cynic

a man who knew of my background in art asked me tonight if i have done anything creative this week. i sheepishly admitted that, no, i have not. he was dumbfounded: "but i thought you did lots of artsy type things...don't you?" when our conversation ended, i began thinking back over the last four months that i have lived in kansas city, and i realized that in all this time, i have produced only one moderately creative project - a purse. while there are many valid excuses that i could give myself for taking a break from making things, i simply will not let myself go there. to create things brings joy into my life and i have not been fulfilling my need to create. last weekend i wanted to begin a quilt - went to the fabric store - stood there in front of hundreds of beautiful fabric selections - and left again having bought nothing because i just could not decide on a color scheme for the quilt. maybe i'll try again tomorrow night. because the next time he asks that question, i want to be able to respond with excitement over my latest project.

"the opposite of creativity is cynicism." ~ esa saarinen

in the sky, in the street

if you are like me and you appreciate the sight of interesting-looking people wearing interesting clothing, you might enjoy the sartorialist. the people photographed for that blog are uniquely fashionable, and perhaps the thing that distinguishes them from the average person is the fact that they look so comfortable in their fashionable clothes - belong in them - as if the clothes just grew on their bodies. while i consider it a chore to rummage through my closet finding something to wear every morning, these people actually enjoy the daily routine of donning their garments to become walking pieces of art.

i may not be one of those people, but i certainly enjoy looking at them.

"fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening." - coco chanel

good oblivion

the early childhood special education program that i work with in the afternoons shares its building with a regular preschool, and the hall walls are covered with things that their classes have worked on. one class simply wrote and displayed a list of what each child in their classroom wants to be when he/she grows up. my favorite is the little girl who aspires to be none other than sleeping beauty. that little four-year-old knows what she's talking about. my life is overflowing with blessings, but right now i am so exhausted from inner turmoil, working with tumultuous children, a weekend packed full of social events, and the crummy april weather that it is tempting to put a halt to everything and aspire to be sleeping beauty myself.

and if tonight my soul may find her peace
in sleep, and sink in good oblivion,
and in the morning wake like a new-opened flower
then i have been dipped again in God, and new-created.
~d.h. lawrence