Friday, November 21, 2014
Then come down this suburban street with me. Technically, it's called a 'blind street'. But I think of it as an all-seeing street, because it opens my eyes so wide.
From the top of the street the green outline looks like a distant hill. As you get to the bottom of the street you will discover that the 'hill' is really something else: I call it 'the tree at the end of the road.'
There's even a rocking horse for the very little ones to ride.
Truly, this is an Abundance Tree.
We all need one. What is yours? What holds you in abundance, delight and openness to myriad possibilities and imaginative play? Do leave a comment, as I'd love to know your thoughts.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
And so I've made a gift card set from my past 'Summer Mandala' images. I've done one of these each year now, and the card set will be tucked into book orders that arrive during November, as a free gift to delight my loyal readers.
It gives me so much pleasure to prepare a gift that comes from my own labour.
Now I've started creating the image for 2014, which I will make into a card to send to family and friends.
I read an article many years ago about the stages of the creative process. Frustration is a stage. It's not forever. In fact it is said to precede a breakthrough.
I'm reminded that the images in the cards above took many hours or days to produce. They all went through the process, with frustration speed humps jolting and jarring the flow and tempting me to give up.
When in the frustration stage, it's useful to take a break, and to remember past successes. So that's why I've photographed my card set and posted it at the top of this blog. It makes me smile to share it with you. Meanwhile, watch this space and see what emerges from the failures.
Saturday, November 8, 2014
I pick up my old saw and cut two pieces from the golden and red heart, one each for the little one and me.
My father's father was a builder and creator of houses. Working with wood was in my father's blood, and in mine. Just the smell of sawdust as my saw bites into the kanuka gives me a thrill of long-forgotten things.
Today I attended the funeral of my oldest client, who died just after her 93rd birthday. Even though her peers have long ago passed on, the chapel was full, for Betty was much loved by many generations.
Rest in peace, dear Betty.
Anything you lose comes round again in a different form.