Unwrapping Imagination

There's nothing like a clean sheet of white to chase away those cooped up, crumbs-on-the-couch days.

We cue up our favorites (This song for Ruby, this for Calvin, and this for Mommy) and gather where the light is best.

Late afternoon rays illuminate our makeshift studio.

We take up our brushes - some frazzled and in disrepair, bristles splayed, weak and wobbly-kneed, others tapered smooth and fine, the silky end of a cat's tail.

The magic spreads as color on the page. A circle loses its way and becomes a zucchini, or maybe an eggplant - bright green. Accidental vegetation inspires a super-sized snow pea, the errant liquid drop of black landing just where it should.

I don't know much about technique and form. I don't know anything, really.

But when I take the time to notice beauty around a humble table marked with faint reminders of yesterday's color, and today's; when we learn together that there are some moments which carry no rule book; when I teach my kids that recording life is one way of honoring it, I am an artist.