Early morning in the farmland, big fields and bigger skies.
Cycling out to deliver warm muffins for a surprise...
Back past fields newly planted
clucking chickens
the call of a cow whose eyes are the most liquid brown I've ever seen.
Past leaves that amazing shade you only see in springtime.
The familiar clink of the gate,
and into our own garden,
remembering to notice the blessings,
not the weeds.
Oh, the beauty of a morning in May!
There's broccoli and lettuce and herbs.
And a healthy crop of weeds.
Back past fields newly planted
clucking chickens
the call of a cow whose eyes are the most liquid brown I've ever seen.
Past leaves that amazing shade you only see in springtime.
The familiar clink of the gate,
and into our own garden,
remembering to notice the blessings,
not the weeds.
Oh, the beauty of a morning in May!
The simple pleasures of light and color and life full and running over!
And a healthy crop of weeds.
Blue skies above
Rich dirt at our feet
and all the glories in between
And suddenly I'm struck with inspiration.
Never mind next week's show in New York.
Never mind tonight's dinner for friends.
Never mind the long to do list, much of it marked "urgent."
The creative lightning bolt must be pursued.
Now.
Out come the simplest of art things.
And soon I am sketching all around the garden.
Hours pass.
Then back indoors for inks and nibs, scissors and various papers.
Under the cherry tree there is a wild mess.
But that is the creative process.
No matter how often it happens, every single time it's like magic.
Light. Color. Magic.
And a sigh of contentment.
Is it like this at your home, too?
