The glass resists the water; the white china marker resists the paint.
June 2008 Archives
Sunday night, and everyone is reading, except me. I take a break from books and the newspaper to draw for a few minutes. The rainstorm comes in waves of sound, good weather for quiet time inside, half-listening to the rush of water on leaves, roof, street, half-listening to the pages turn.
Decaf espresso at the end of the evening, in a mug glazed by the youngest member of the family. The clock ticks. I hear a distant train. Thunderstorms seem to have passed for now, leaving cool air behind for us to sleep in.
Sorry about the silence of the past three weeks and any confusion it may have caused. A bit of database trouble, an unexpected leftover from site troubles I ran into last March. All is repaired and up and running now, thanks to the generous and patient help of Ms. Jen, who was able to piece things back together. The subscription feeds may take a day or so to get re-established, but I think comments are working.
I kept drawing throughout, so if you scroll down the page you can see what my month has been like. I've missed the community and conversations, and am very glad to be back again!
I kept drawing throughout, so if you scroll down the page you can see what my month has been like. I've missed the community and conversations, and am very glad to be back again!
Color and light in the sky until just a few minutes ago, but other details began to darken. I love the long evenings at this time of year.
Not local, but now that the strawberries have been eaten, this is what scents the kitchen tonight.
Nothing - nothing - tastes like the tiny local berries we got today. Sweet and too ripe to travel far from home. They won't last long, but that's not a problem...
Leftovers brought home from our long walk today - took the kids on a four-and-a-half mile urban excursion, stopping for gelati and then dim sum en route. We also browsed at a toy shop, played the rhythm instruments at the fair trade store, updated my prescription for glasses, and bought a couple of belated birthday presents. Out of the house for six hours, all told.
At this time of year, orange cones seem to multiply in the streets.
Cumulus clouds - the thunderstorms waited until nearly dark. We walked all over town today, inventing errands for the excuse to be out and about in near-perfect weather. I looked at the sky and painted this while waiting for the others to finish at the supermarket.
21 June. Longest day of the year, traditionally, even if the exact solstice fell yesterday. We go to two different parties between summer rainstorms.
20 June. Tomorrow our oldest child leaves for a month of travel and study in Spain. The household is full of lists and photocopies. He's calm, packing. I'm trying to find other things to do, so I don't annoy or distract him. I've moved most of my daily art and tech stuff to a straw bag for the summer. In a couple of days I'll decide that it is the wrong bag, and move everything someplace else, but for now, this will do.
19 June. Looking at a stack of things to be done...
18 June. Empty glass. Squeezed lime.
17 June. Espresso fuels a very very late night drafting a grant proposal - we heard about the opportunity moments before the deadline, but it was a great match for our work with the Pittsburgh Signs Project, so we decided to try for it anyway. We'll find out if we got an award early in August. Writing up the idea was satisfying, even if I feel jet-lagged for a day or so.
16 June. One piece of the cereal bowl. My grandfather used to send broken plates to someone who would rivet them together again. I save pieces on an upper shelf, instead.
15 June. She can read them to herself now. Choices open, new worlds beckon. Do you remember how that felt?
14 June. Sketching in paint.
13 June. On the back porch, welcoming a storm as it cools the evening.
12 June. All the guys in the house have been getting ready for their annual canoe trip this weekend. Tomorrow the batch of chili will be made. Tonight, ingredients fill the fridge and kitchen counter.
11 June. The lamp only throws a shadow when it's turned off.
10 June. I'm teaching animation at summer camp. The kids color letters for the opening credits, and tonight was the night to photograph the letters for playback.
9 June. Right hand.
8 June. Twig brought home from a walk.
7 June. Bought new waterbrushes today, and what a difference. I don't realize how easily the water and paint can flow until I have new brushes.
6 June. This is just the bag the present came in - we wrapped it ourselves, later.
5 June. Easiest to draw the youngest person in the house when she's asleep.
4 June. Our farm share season begins, and this radish is among the vegetables in this first week's crate.
3 June. Feet up for a moment while I consider what to do next. (This was the day I was beset with a combination of blog database and laptop troubles. 20 days later, after a lot of scrambling behind the scenes, and a valiant rescue by Ms. Jen, I am catching up again.)
The climbing red roses out front were there when we moved in. They have no particular scent, the leaves mildew and fall off through the summer, but they are glorious while blooming.
Everyone under one roof again. The summer begins...
