LOVE the look and colors...VERY inspiring!
These are called the painted rocks. We have a tradition of picnics on them , and long walks. The lichen looks like embroidery to me.x
I'm glad you rattled the door!
I hid in my walk in robe when the 4 children were getting too much for me. I thought they would come to look for me when they were hungry, but I could hear them helping themselves to food.Cheers Jan
I think it is human nature to want to be found -- I'm exploring this very concept in a piece right now, and it begins in childhood (with an almost identical closet incident between my children, by the way, except the one child did call out for the other. For what seemed like an hour). As adults, don't we all long to be "discovered"? There is something that feels inauthentic about calling out to the world and saying "I'm here! I'm here!" There is a fear that no one will hear, no one will care ... that there is truth in the saying "the empty can makes the most noise." But to be discovered ... that seems like purity. However. If we aren't advocates for ourselves, how can we expect others to be? If we aren't brave enough to raise a hand, the opportunities will slip right by. So there's that other saying: "If you want apples, you have to shake a lot of trees." Ultimately, it doesn't matter if one is a tree shaker or a door rattler ... just make sure what you have to offer in the end isn't an empty can. And how's THAT for an apron full of metaphors?XO Amy
Love the pics. Love the text.I hid too, as a teenager, and no one missed me for quite some time.Kit, to Hana (The English Patient) - "I do...I do want you to find me. I do want to be found".
nature's embroidery is so beautiful.
judy, i know people that only rattle the door, and other who rattle only if it's an absolute necessity.
The comment about the four children not missing the mother in the walk in wardrobe rings true for me this busy summer.There have been times when I've gone missing, but it was not noticed.It's complicated. I think that we all yearn for solitude, yet at the same time we crave attention. x
Love this story Judy, and when I was a girl, I took over the little 'store room' under he basement stairs for my hideout, and wrote journals filled with dreams, lit a candle and watched the wax drip (bad idea, but I am still here) and imagined the adventures that lay ahead. Planned to generally escape parents in their 50's with three youngsters underfoot. (second family for my mother widowed in her thirties).The memories are good.Happy end of summerBeth
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