In a mere week’s time I fly west once more for my annual trip to Taos NM.  Much of the rhythm of things here at home just now is akin to years past.  I work diligently at Day Job to get my little to do list settled.  No one wants to be the bottleneck there.  I stack the specially made instrument cases, one by one, and polish ever so many little silver and brass buttons and other necessary miniscule sundries for these lovely instruments we craft day to day.  It’s great fun, actually.  I am deeply grateful for a “job” which affords me the temporal freedom to make my own hours and simply do the work on my list, which in turn affords me artistic freedom to run my workshops and when possible, make some art as well.

As is often the case when I am up to my gills in to-do lists and packing lists and my mind is aflutter with all the earthly materialistic concerns in preparation for a lengthy journey, I feel called to crawl into a box of paints and swim amidst the colors there, creating my own less complicated world on canvas.

This is my brain on overwhelm.

A dear friend who knows me well sends along a timely NYT article about some less well-known art work on display just now by Georgia O’Keeffe.  I lose myself in the world of her paintings.  Perhaps I can find the time to bust out some oil paints to settle my soul before leaving.

Are we having the time of our life?
Are we having the time of our lives?
Are we coming across clear?
Are we coming across fine?
Are we part of the plan here?

Are we having the time of our lives?
Are we coming across clear?
Are we coming across fine?
Are we having the time of our lives?
Are we part of the plan here?

We have the driver and time on our hands
One little room and the biggest of plans
The days were shaping up, frosty and bright
Perfect weather to fly, perfect weather to fly

Pounding the streets where my father’s feet still
Ring from the walls, we’d sing in the doorways or bicker and row
Just figuring how we were wired inside
Perfect weather to fly

So in looking to stray from the line
We decided instead we should pull out the thread
That was stitching us into this tapestry vile
And why wouldn’t you try? Perfect weather to fly

We have the driver and time on our hands
One little room and the biggest of plans
The days were shaping up, frosty and bright
Perfect weather to fly, perfect weather to fly

Pounding the streets where my father’s feet still
Ring from the walls, we’d sing in the doorways, or bicker and row
Just figuring how we were wired inside
Perfect weather to fly

So in looking to stray from the line
We decided instead we should pull out the thread
That was stitching us into this tapestry vile
And why wouldn’t you try? Perfect weather to fly

                                                        ~Elbow

All work and no play makes us dull does it not?  And so on a stunningly gorgeous Ohio afternoon in May, a few of us from the shop take advantage of the perfect weather and head into the skies with our employer Wally, who also happens to be an airplane pilot.

We call this “team-building.”

Perhaps next time up I will brave the loop-the-loop style acrobatics, but for me, for now,  merely being aloft is enough adventure this first time flying in the open air.

Justin on the other hand is built of more courageous stock and eventually opts for all the tricks.  Bravo Justin!

It is a fine day indeed and we all feel settled, calm and above the fray after flying.  Much like I do after a successful day swimming in the paint box or following a drawing to see where it leads.

One day, I follow a raven on the page…..

Which turns into a little carving with a message….

Having flown, I feel bird like and am reminded that each bird offers something different in the way of inspiration.  If one listens carefully, one might pick up a bit of the conversation….

“Draw, draw.

Draw. “

                  ~Raven

“sketch, sketch, sketch.”

                  ~Magpie

I attempt to translate a bit of what I hear in their chatter, and eventually make a little poem of sorts.

Pencil bags result and I am happy with them.  I am thankful to speak a bit of Raven.

As time marches on, the stuff of life seems to have no regard for things on my to-do list.  And so we attend an opera our son Jack plays in at Queen City Opera House.  It is entitled Iolanta and the music is by Tchaikovsky.  We enjoy it immensely.

We also journey into nameless far-flung corn-fields toward mid-ohio to visit a newly arrived niece called Flossie.

She is still quite small and ever so lovely.

Her parents are mushroom enthusiasts and so we wander into their woodland for a peek at what might be afoot on the forest floor….

Something about this day away from the city hits a bit of a reset button for us.  Everything slows into stillness and quietude.  We deeply appreciate our niece and her growing family.  Their approach to life in general and enthusiasm for the natural world is infectious and we find ourselves hopeful for the world at large for a change.  News headlines be damned for a day.

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