Don’t you love stretching out on a hotel towel? Pool side. The biggest decision of the day is whether to roll over now or later. Followed by if I nap now will the sun umbrella cover me for the whole afternoon?
I must be dreaming as the towel is on the bed and the tassels are unraveling every time I touch them. Perhaps I should stop now but this is too much fun.
Tag Archives: art journal
Do you ever ask for an autopsy on a simple teabag? Do you place it straight in the bin or do you toss it on the garden? Compost fodder? Or do you reuse it for the next cup?
Recycling can make you crazy. Separating out the rubbish, how far do you go?
How long does it take for the paper on a teabag to return to the earth? Days? Months? Years? Just wondering aloud here. A moment’s thought while I dunk.
Is there such a thing as a shy troll? Well, when I went to sketch my troll, he turned away. All I could do was sketch the backside, so to speak. He does have a beautiful smile and that makes me smile.
It’s just a piece of paper you might think but look closely. It’s much much more. It is folded many times, turned upside down and twisted a little and it becomes a crane. Not just an ordinary crane but a lucky one. A crane that is given is a lucky one. That’s what I think. When you string them together into a thousand it becomes a wish or a memorial or a prayer for peace. I just have a one yellow one to share today. I can’t remember how long I’ve had it but I can’t bear to throw it away. It’s lucky after all.
Make a thousand by yourself and make a wish. If anything it will teach you patience and perseverance!
I had a brand new teddy bear. Briefly. There was a “bring your toy to kindergarten” day. Mum and Dad told me not to take my teddy bear along as I might lose it. I insisted, as any four year old would, of course, I wouldn’t lose my teddy bear. I would look after it. And you all know what happened next. I did lose it. And in it’s place was left a rather sad looking patched up much older teddy bear. It wasn’t the same. I was devastated. It was Christmas time and the end of the kindergarten year and everyone was leaving to go home. It was impossible to find the culprit. It was a hard lesson learned.
Why is it that parents really do know best, sometimes?