I long to sit in my field. To listen to the late summer hum. To wonder at the bowed heads of left-behind wheat. To drink in the gorgeous array of color in the wild, dew-dripping grasses. To feel the light breeze and to smell the rain sodden earth. This I love. This feels like home.
I would want to paint. To know the exhilaration of putting paint to paper in hopes of coming close to what I see and feel here. To be reminded that my palette of watercolor just cannot do justice to what’s at my feet. To go home from this place knowing I can look back through the pages of my sketchbook and be here again.
I would want to knit. To sit here with wools the colors of the field, running through my fingers and needles. Indeed I would rename the fibers as they fair-isled into a yarn painting: Autumn Grass, Dew Drop, Goldenrod, and Clover Hay. And each time I wore the finished piece I’d be able to smell the earth and hear the sounds of my field.
I would want to write. To craft words that represent each blade of grass, wheat, and wild flower. Letters that give real-time meaning to the other-worldly air I breathe here. Words that would be carefully crafted as if I had knit them…or painted them.
But I’ve come to my field without any of these. Just to sit and take it all in. I breathe in and out. I gaze and marvel. I ruminate. I try to cease all thought. And then I close my eyes. Something trickles down my cheeks. It is then that I have a thought I’ve never had before—perhaps all the paintings in watercolor and yarn, all the sketches and drawings, the knitted and crocheted creations, are tear-shaped drops that reflect the beauty that’s all around me. Perhaps a need to create is a way of exhaling it out, a way of crying to the Universe that it is so beautiful and I must make something of it or else I’d simply weep everywhere I go.
Next time, I’ll bring my paints or some yarn or my writing book. In so doing, I’ll continue the trail of happy tears as I bask in the glory of my field.
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For other posts about My Field (which actually belongs to my neighbor Mr. Whicker)
Powerful… I must say I enjoyed visiting your field this morning… especially since there are no fields anywhere near that I can enjoy… yours is big enough for us all I think. Thanks for sharing it.
Thank you Elaine!
Thanks for taking us with you to your field this morning. This post is pure poetry.
I so appreciate your comment Mary!
you have captured the essence of a summer’s day and I can feel the breeze and hear the insects. thank you for taking me there
One of the loveliest compliments I could receive!
Beautiful! I love your uplifting sense of color too!
Well my goodness, you might not have had a pen or a pad but you sure had the words and the belated painting and if I can’t see your field of I certainly can see the ones I have been in or by. Super lovely both picture and words! Yes, sometimes I think I just can’t express the beauty or happiness or anything else even, that I feel and it does bring a tear to my eye and a huge ache in my heart that I can’t. All I can do is try and hopefully sometimes I can do as well as you did here.
It is an ache, isn’t it? So glad we have art and creativity to help soothe the ache of beauty!
At last, a trail of happy tears, not a “Trail of Tears”. May it be so,indeed!
sooooo beautiful, and refreshing!! Creative, and just, well, so beautiful!!
Merci Beaucoup!
Lovely colours.
I got lost in the beauty of the colors in this one… 🙂
Thank you Alex!!
Your field is amazing, Jennifer, so vibrant and alive.
I so appreciate your comments Hanneke! Thank you for visiting!