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3) One rainy afternoon when I was about seven, my mother came home from her jog and told me she saw a fairy circle growing in the field next to our house. A fairy circle is when mushrooms grow naturally into a ring. I put on my yellow rain coat and green rubber boots, and set forth. When I found the perfect circle of twelve or so mushrooms, I got lost in thought about which fairy would sit where, what they would talk about, and where they might be hiding during the rain.
I was jolted from my misty daydream by a beat up car that swerved on the road and slammed to a stop to toss a Budweiser can out the window before it sped away. As the can tumbled just a few yards from the fairy circle I turned and ran as fast as I could back to the house. In the slow motion silent way that fear works, I heard only the slosh of my rubber boots pounding on the wet pavement. And as I ran I felt this knowing. A knowing that life was going to be like this, an interplay between fairy circles and tossed beer cans, and the challenge would be staying on the center path and remembering your way home.
Today's tag goes to the Glass Doorknob. I discovered this site when it was featured on "Blogs of Note". The author recently moved to Vermont and I think she would delight in the discovery of a fairy circle.
2) When I was 2 or 3 years old, I found the golden egg at the Easter egg hunt at church. I remember the jiggly energy of running from egg to egg, pink, blue, and green, nestled in the dry grass. But when I saw the golden egg everything went still. It was different than all the others, bigger, and made of pure gold. I squatted down and it took both hands to lift it. As I raised it up, the stillness turned to chaos and shouts of "Annie found the golden egg!!" I felt a squeeze around my waist as I floated high up into the sky and onto my father's shoulders. Still holding the egg, I looked down at the fine brown hair on the top of his head. Feeling the lumbering left-right sway of his shoulders as he walked us back to the church, I distinctly remember thinking, without the language to express it, "This is going to be an interesting life".
In honor of magical things in Vermont fields, today's tag goes to the Orb Weaver Farm. Just a few miles from where I grew up, and famous for golden cheese rather than eggs.
I've been tagged by Nathalie Davis, who I met in Carol's painting class. This means I have to write seven interesting things about myself, and tag seven other bloggers. Unfortunately, while I know there are tons of other daily painting blogs out there, I haven't had a spare moment to look at them. So, that part of the assignment will have to take a different twist.
1) The first interesting thing to come to mind is the fact that there's a part of me that can't draw, and is shocked by the part of me that can. "Can't draw" (CD) is even miffed by the desires of "Draw" (D) to do so. Part of the problem is that CD is the one who is forced to show up first, with his stiff and awkward lines. D sweeps in later, when she wants to, dancing onto center stage, shoving CD to the sidelines. But he is always terrified that she won't show.
In the many years where I didn't draw at all, I would look at illustrations, or paintings in museums and feel something, but that something felt inaccessible, until the conversation finally went like this:
D: You know, I feel like I could draw that way. I know I don't know how, but I feel it inside.
CD: Yeah right, if you could, you would've by now. Why don't you just pipe down and let me pay these bills! Dreamer.
D: I'll show you.
The daily practice of this blog has helped D prove that she could, and has helped CD trust that she will actually show up. And because CD starts every day as promised, with his stiff, awkward line, D shows up earlier and more reliably to whisk him through the dance.
In honor of the two me's, today's tag goes to Ann Wood. I discovered her blog a long time ago when I googled my name. I love her work, and always felt good that there was a version of me out there making wonderful things.
I was grumbling about needing to clear off my desk to do today's drawing until my inner muse said, "Well, why don't you just draw your messy desk?" Right now I do my school work on one side and draw on the other. My Mom bought me a fabulous drawing desk for my birthday but since I have to move any day (or year?) from now it's still unassembled and in its box. Louie keeps asking if I want him to move the wooden yogini, but there's another bird on it that I keep meaning to draw. Pillow on the chair, wires everywhere, twisting one direction, then another -this set up is not occupational therapy approved!! I have to say, the drawing doesn't look nearly as chaotic as the desk feels. Once again, art makes things better.
Yesterday's drawing inspired me to capture my other noodle bowl.
I have two weeks left of this semester, which brings out a personal quirk. Whenever I'm really close to the time something ends, I'm already done in my mind. I think, with less than two weeks to go, why don't we just sum the whole thing up today and start our holiday break now?
When I lived in Japan, I spent Mondays sitting at my desk at the Board of Education. Twenty-five Japanese men in suits, and me. The highlight was lunchtime (when is it not?). We ordered our bowls of noodles and rice just before noon, and a tiny hunchbacked old lady delivered them in wooden baskets. Beautiful blue and white ceramic bowls stacked between wooden slats. At 11:57, with a steaming bowl of noodles on my desk, I reached for my chopsticks and began to dig in. But I noticed that no one else touched their food, and just went on with their paperwork. When the minute hand clicked to precisely 12:00, everyone reached for their bowls and began eating at once.
