Green

anabelle and i are visiting my dad and sarah here in boyleston, massachusetts where the green is so green it all looks like a big jungle compared to the sparse and jagged landscape and red red rock of las vegas. today she sat in the grass for the very first time. she hoisted her elbows up so high they almost reached her armpits, so unsure she was of the prickly mess she was sitting atop. i showed her how to pat it and wiggle her toes in it, and that made her giggle. we sat in the hammock which overlooks dad's gardens, and that also made her laugh. she clung to the ropes and refused to rest with me. who can blame her -- it's all so new! i showed her a bullfrog and a Full Moon japanese maple, let her touch the rough bark of a tree, and we picked a small purple violet. soon both of her chubby hands were filled with clumps of limp greenery.

then upstairs we went for her "morning" nap - i am clinging to the remnants of a tattered schedule - and as i nursed her to sleep (for shame, i know) i wondered if her mind is just now seeing only the greens of dad's garden. the hundreds and thousands of shades - the dappled green of the grass underneath the trees, the chartruese of the hostas... all nameless and wonderous. each leaf, each blade seen in great detail and up close, the big picture just a big blur.

Crave

This is definitely more "beg" than "crave," but time was short this week.  This is Buzz, our eight and a half year old bulldog.  I LOVE sketching him because he is really the most unbelievable shape.  He is like a:

burrito

tootsie roll

sea cucumber

piggy

He has a fabulously enormous head, and paws that look like big muffins.  Believe it or not he can sniff out watermelon if we are eating it, and he goes crazy for it! 

Anabelle gets a huge kick out of him -- she lights right up when he saunters by.  She pulls on his ears and yanks on his fur, and he either ignores her or he licks her, bless his heart.  

Adapt

We don't have daffodils out here in the desert, but Chicago's spring and summer weather has been on my mind lately.  There they light up the rainy spring days like little lanterns.  And the best part is that whenever the sun shines, all their little heads turn to follow the light.  That is what I consider a perfect example of adapting.  Each flower shifts its trumpet to make the most of its environment - to fit in, to survive, to be happy.  As my dad always says "you can get used to hangin' if you hang long enough."

I found this note on my drawing yesterday.  Pretty awesome, huh?!  

Purpose

It is an overcast morning in Las Vegas, and I love it.  We hardly ever get cloudy skies, so it feels like a cozy treat when we do.  

I've been working on my illustration for the word of the week ("adapt") at night after Patrick and I finish dinner and after we clean up.  Anabelle goes to sleep at 7, so we have the rest of the evening to ourselves.  (To draw or space out as the case may be.  duhhhhhhhhhhhh)  It feels absolutely delicious to be thinking creatively again.  It puts purpose to my days - roots them down so that every time I sit down to my paper I feel like I'm coming back to... myself. HOWEVER I also get really wound up from working which is not the best thing right before hitting the sack.  My brain just starts going and I feel like I could work and work and work. Good thing I am much too sensible to do that -- Anabelle wakes up at 6am if not earlier.  So the time that I do have to work is like a little gem.  

It's great to have a weekly due date because it keeps me from getting overly attached to each piece.  They are exercises rather than masterpieces.  I'll post "Adapt" in the next couple of days.