A returning

It has truly been a long time since I quit keeping up with this blog.
Several times I have thought of restarting it, but since I was floating back and forth across the globe, I wasn't sure if I could manage to keep it up.
Now  that I am a teacher at a small international school in Delhi, and soon to be hosting an after-school art club, I think the time has come to begin again.
I probably will aim for a posting schedule of once or twice a week. I am a busy teacher now.

The picture above is a card I made for a cousin.

May you have a day of small delights of wonder.

Snow! and art.

Snow comes only a few times a year where I live, sometimes only once. So we enjoy it while we have it. It was lovely yesterday with "snow stars" as someone called them, floating down nearly all day. It didn't stick until evening,though.
Here is a snow sculpture I made with my eight year old brother. He took the first picture.

"Courage, dear heart"

I have always loved the imagery in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader when all seems lost and Lucy calls out to Aslan. An albatross comes and circles the mast and Lucy hears "Courage, dear heart." Recently, it has been a reminder to have courage and trust.

A work in progress.

"Grief is great"

A picture of how I've been feeling a lot this past week: a little girl in need of climbing up into her Father's lap.

A friend died last week. I'd hoped to have some art representing the joy he'd been in the lives of those who had known him, but instead all I have is an older picture, which was a good reminder for me tonight.

Wonder at the Creator's art

Today we had a walk in the woods seeing the wonders of a short cold spell. Following are a few pictures of the wonders we saw, along with a few from Colorado that crept in while I was trying to guess at which were the ones I wanted to share.

Freedom

A sound. Roll call! I leap out of bed and land in—softness? I stand trembling.

Freedom. It is a gift. The world is so beautiful -- so wonderful..., and yet, can she ever be truly free? Laugh, love, smile. Or does even now the camp hold her in mockery, clutching her in its long dark shadow.

Can Peace find her?



An attempt to illustrate some of the emotions of a short story I wrote.

Wanderer

Long ago, I read a poem about a gypsy who, wandering up a country lane, sees a house with looking welcoming, and a lady spinning within. At that moment, she longs to be within.

The housewife, looking out, seeing the gypsy in the wild free air, longs to leave her spinning and go out traveling.

I've often felt like that gypsy. Many times, I've looked at a friend who has stayed in one place all their lives and wished that I too, could be comfortably sitting in a place I could truly call home, that I could be a sitting stone, comfortably gathering moss (to mix metaphors). Some day I hope to paint that scene of the poem -- but not today.

Today the wind is calling. I am the wanderer seeing the downy seed dancing on the wind and longing to follow.

Perhaps the Maker of the wind will give me leave.