Drip By Drip
The creative process in the midst of travels and life
I mention to my husband as I am settling into my girlhood desk that, if possible, I would like to do some writing early this morning before the day sprints ahead. Immediately he sits on the bed, crosses his legs, and asks, “So…what is your creative process like?”
I mentally note the irony, remove to the papasan for further conversation, and tell him, “Drip by drip.”
A neighbor drops by for help, the pest control comes an hour early, and I leave my notebook behind for that mirage of “later”.
Outside, there is mud. I tenderly step through it with my plastic black and floral garden shoes. Doing so reminds me of Going on a Bear Hunt, where the only option for such obstacles was to go through it, squelch, squelch, squelch.
The goats romp to the gate and greet me, tiny zinc bells jiggling, and the drizzle breaks long enough to keep my head dry and the robins to chirping. It will be another grey and cold day, a disappointment to the children (and their mother) who love fairer weather. I’ve about given up trying to push them outside “for fresh air” when I wouldn’t want to leave the cozy wood stove, either. If it weren’t for these goats and my gardens, I might endlessly spend my days indoors, so I thank God for those needs and how in meeting them, my own are met despite trying to ignore them.
The seeds are sprouting, at least. Some friends teach me about snail-seeding, and intrigued as I am, I still sow my garden into small, black, plastic squares. It’s what I know.
I’ve learned over time that I am not a volume gardener. I’m content with just a few tomato plants, for example, saving my canning endeavors for when I am able to bulk purchase from my local farmer. I rarely ever seed an entire packet of anything.
On a random Saturday, my 19 year old son and I spend a pleasant journey on the road alternating between conversation and comfortable silence. We both point out the fresh snow on the mountains, glistening white against a patchy sky of (finally!) sun breaks as we weave through acres of state managed tree forests with signs promising us good stewardship. I try not to scoff.
Ninety minutes later, I am crouched in the van and lifting, shifting, pulling a solid maple 48” 8 harness Macomber loom into the back. I think two thoughts:
May I never sell another Macomber ever again, and
Thank you, Kaleigh, for your strength training videos.
The next evening, I am grunting and trying not to smash my fingers as I fiddle with and tie treadles up underneath this beautiful workhorse. I clean every part of the loom, thinking about all of the textiles I would love to weave, and of all of the patterns I desire to learn.
I’m not sad I sold and downsized my textile tools and goods before. I had to learn that pushing harder on other “more serious” endeavors doesn’t necessarily mean the response to said pressure will result in better outcomes.
Denying my creative impulses doesn’t actually help my two nonverbal children to speak more (or at all). Two things can be true at the same time, and seeing as how I am making lists:
My girls are smart people who, though challenged by their genetic make up and apraxia, will continue to progress, learn and grow on their own time line, and
Their mother is an artist who loves to create beauty in a variety of seemingly unrelated and unimportant ways, and
God thought it was wise and good to bring them all together.
I have a birthday and part of it involves picking up a used spinning wheel that a shop owner procured for me. The other part of it involves lallygagging through the town, sipping a hot americano, and buying girlie bracelets for my 13 year old and myself.
How was I supposed to know my friend from high school (overseas!), whom I haven’t seen in over twelve years, was waiting for me in my driveway with a bouquet of flowers?
Once I see her, I squeal loudly! The CRV barely comes to a stop before I am leaping from it. I can’t stop touching her to prove she is real, and we spend the next two days catching up on what Marco Polo and texts can never do.
Then, two days after she leaves, I am on an airplane with my husband beginning an eight day journey. We visit my son and while there, participate in a birthday surprise party for him. I decide I much prefer being the surprisER, but I wouldn’t trade those earlier 48 hours for anything except perhaps to ignore the leisure strolling beforehand and to rush on home. I enjoy a couple of hours with a pen pal face to face, and thoroughly enjoy worshipping with my son’s home church community.
A few days later, we take my son onto another airplane, and fly to visit my eldest daughter and her family (grannnnnnndbabies!). Everyone is very kind to me throughout my travels, taking me to see, for example, the botanical gardens where I saw such wonders as cypress roots and even poison ivy for the first time. I think I stopped even for the weeds between the sidewalk cracks downtown!
And, the birds: grackles and cardinals and mockingbirds. My delight knows no bounds when visiting outside of my own environment to discover and enjoy God’s creation.
I also take note of line and texture everywhere, certain that these types of noticing would end up either in my art journaling, or my weaving, or perhaps even both.
There is plenty of coffee and time to read books, eat delicious food, and even do a bit of yarn hopping. I see “drive through margaritas” and am astonished at the “free ammo with purchase of coffee beans”.
Wow, are things different in the south!
Home now and my sprouts, both children and plants, need tending. Lord willing, this spring, I’ll be continuing to not only homeschool, but also threading my loom and mordanting fabric, coaxing food and flowers from the ground, and finishing (oh please) the remodel on my kitchen. That’s how I roll in the midst of traveling and life-ing: seed by seed, thread by thread, drip by drip.
That is wonderful! Happy belated Birthday to you and Logan! I am
Happy you got to see family! What a special time. Love all the photos you shared with us. God bless, and keep up the amazing writing friend! 💞🥰🙏🏼