Last Monday had a tumultuous feel to it. If Earthquakes had foreshocks rather than aftershocks, Monday felt like a foreshock. I kept waiting for the rattling to begin in earnest.
Rattling came in the three out of the five days Emma came home and cried in sadness that her first high school days felt wobbly and uncertain.
Rattling came in my frustration with educational politics and even though Samuel seemed happy in his classroom, I was more than vaguely dissatisfied and worried what the ramifications would be for me making him make a change to a more appropriate for him classroom.
Somehow I knew, intuitively, that I should create something during those wobbly first days.
I wanted something meditative, something pleasant to experience both while I was creating it and after I finished. I dug for some of my painted papers and found pages with reds, oranges and yellows. “A return to the poetry fire, the creative fire or most of all, the blossoming of Word-Love fire, “ I thought to myself.
A cast off kitchen ornament was my canvas and I created this Word-Love-Fire Tulip.
It is decorated with a Horsey Dictionary page and a short story from a 1930’s text book. The story was written by a woman named Katharine Brush.
I love this tulip.
Maybe I will put it on a display to sell or maybe I will just keep it, for me to love.
Word-Love-Fire. What’s not to love?
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