I am really not a "crafty" person.
I really do appreciate art.
I took an art history class in college, at I.U.
I took an art history class in Chile, at La Catolica. The professor spoke in Spanish with a French accent.
It wasn't easy to comprehend.
And so began my love affair.
I spend a lot of time at home.
I crave change.
I crave color.
I crave pretty reminders of what matters.
Here is what I have been working on lately to that end.
First...this is the back of an adirondack chair I gave Steve for a wedding gift.
Like any quality marriage, it has weathered many storms, quite literally.
We re-purposed it.
Now, it is a wall hanging.
It has words on it. See?
Those words are in Spanish, because I was inspired by a fence outside of Pablo Neruda's home, Isla Negra, Chile.
After he died, shortly after the 1973 coups, messages were carved into the fence around the house.
The carvings tell a story.
Our "chair" says "Our Story" on the middle plank.
The other ones say things like faith, hope, trust.
And, we put our Spanish nicknames for Henry and Eliana.
Henry is "principito" (little prince).
Eliana, from the time I first laid eyes on her, is called "muñeca."
Right now the "chair" is on the mantle.
Not sure if it will stay there.
I would like to get some talavera vases up there with it and see what I think.
Over the weekend we were in Lima, visiting Steve's parents.
We always have a great time with them.
H and E really dig the piano.
Eliana just likes moving, and grabbing and climbing the steps. She adores hats, even this one.
John taught me how to make a most-succulent pot roast.
(He cooks it on the stove, who knew...? Maybe every one, but I didn't!)
Nola and I worked on this sign, another leftover from the chair.
Can you tell what it says?
Try it from this angle.
I need to pray all the time these days. Well, every day, come to think of it.
Nola is a fantastic mother-in-law.
I am so blessed.
I often ask her to help me with these crafty ideas, because she makes all kinds of practical art, like cards, jewelry, floor cloths.
She always humors my whims, and finds a way to make it work.
My friend Marie inspired all this art. All of it.
And, she helped me with the script on the "chair".
I was too scared my handwriting would look un-lovely.
Here was my practice run, on the back.
So you see, it takes a village to raise a child, whether the child is 15 months, 3 years old or 36 years old.
