I Wish…

I wish I could paint or stitch for you the warm light streaming in our home this morning. Coming downstairs is often an awakening experience as we receive such lovely light through the eastern side of our windowed home. It was glowing through the shades, an autumn sunlight, warm and golden and a touch muted but only in color, not in brilliance.

I wish I could paint or stitch for you the day we spent at Price Park for my birthday this July. I sat there with my family by a quietly gurgling stream and sunlight danced all around us. I just took pictures. And made a sketch or two. No color. So amazing and overwhelming the beauty dripping from the trees that I knew any attempts at painting it would fall oh so short.

I wish I could paint or stitch for you the skies we have been seeing here up on Silver Dapple Lane. Nearly each evening, the canvas in the sky captivates with frolicking clouds, swooshes of color, and serene swipes of muted tones.

I wish I could paint or stitch for you the moon as I saw it a year ago, wrapped in a gauzy shawl, glowing through deep values of purple and blue night. I see it also in the daytime, like a small patch of lightly felted wool pulled and perched in the expanse of azure overhead.

I wish I could sail on a river of crystallite, into a sea of blue…just like Winken and Blinken and Nod. I wish I could tell you stitch by stitch a story of how this image runs through my life…childhood to middle age and everywhere in-between.

As an artist, I am trying to make wishes come true. To employ the magic of paper and pastel, fabric and thread, to tell you what I want to share with you. It all catches me by the throat and I want so much to inhabit these memories again and again, stroke by stroke, stitch by stitch, layer after layer of color and fabric. I scarcely want the making of a painting to end, for in doing so, I feel I must move on. In stitching I can hang out there a bit longer and lean into the story, the wish, the magic.

I wish I could stay longer in writing, painting, stitching. But I must away…daily living calls. I know I’ll see beautiful trees dripping with the first light of September. I’ll look for the moon suspended in the sky reflecting a light that is not his own, but rather is borrowed from a grand and glorious place. And I’ll walk in the light of the golden Sun as I run errands, unload groceries, and do laundry. In so doing, wishes of another kind are coming true as well!

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