I have this grand conviction that I can make
anything if I put more than five minutes of thought into it. This fact alone paralyzes me in the first three minutes and thus, only a percentage of things are actually created. But I am ambitious and have succeeded in several attempts to create a hand-made, imperfectly charming world around me.
Mark, a dear friend from Montana, and I share the dream of one day having a house full of galleries of art displaying only the work of friends or ourselves. Candace and I have a history of scampering through my favorite,
expensive store, picking up items and stating "I can make this!". We always scoff at the price tag, usually no less than $48 if not $128, and I will either pull a sketch book or camera to capture the image of this creation. The file stock full of pictures labeled "items to make: 3 dimensional" grows exponentially on my little laptop.
On a trip to Nova Scotia long, long ago I visited a house where all the rooms were different colors. "It's like a crayon box," I remember saying, completely infatuated. Even the hard wood floors were painted celery green or cobalt blue. I suddenly had a dream where I would one day be a wild haired grandmother who couldn't wait to paint the floors with her visiting grandchildren. I imagined we would make up stories about how fire engine red paint spilled onto the floors and then kick the can and watch the paint spread. So tonight I sit here in my half painted little yellow room sorting through creations past, present, and future. Enjoy. Maybe you too can make this.
The biggest "I can make this" of them all: the small blue house. Some days I'm not so sure.
Oh yeah, that massive pine behind the house. That is the one that cracked in half and fell over in the wind storm. Anyone need fire wood?
