First there's the sound of the motor starting up. A few seconds later the scent comes over the wall like a wave, fresh cut grass. It's the smell of spring and contentment. I lie on my back in 'the thinking swing.' It's my refuge, the view is usually like the photo, and the sound is usually of birds. I'm not thinking a thing about the royal wedding, but I am thinking of tornadoes and the devastation in the southern states. And all that goes with. I'm grateful to be here, with the clean scents and birdsong, my own troubles put aside for the moment. They're not allowed here, as this isn't that kind of a thinking swing.
Miss Lupescu Poppet waits with contained impatience, tolerant of my need for a few minutes of quiet. I hear her anyway in my head. Finish me, you silly human, there is work to be done and I must get to it.
I feel lousy today. Miserable. I carry on, getting kids where they need to go, getting work finished. I did miss an appointment I didn't want to miss. Once, a few years ago, I spouted off in a rant to someone I cared a great deal about. I told him the things I hated about him. It was a litany of what I saw as character flaws, with a list of ways he made me feel awful. It was blurted out in anger, it was cruel, unkind and withering. At the time I was surfing on my own emotions. I felt wronged and justified in my lashing out. I was wrong about that. I've felt ashamed of this thing many times since, but never so much as today. The tables were turned you see, and I was the recipient of such a list. I was the one guilty of heinous crimes, missteps and misdemeanors. I had to take a hard look into an ugly mirror. And I had it coming. I think that we don't always understand our own intentions. Sometimes we don't know we're flying blind until we crash into something. The something might be a truth about ourselves invisible until impact. I hope I grow. I hope the damage can be overcome. I hope these lessons will get easier instead of harder. I'm very tired and very humbly human. And fairly miserable. It's only natural I should be. I'll sleep and get up tomorrow and try again. I don't see any other option.
Many images of poppets. It's like time travel. Thought you might enjoy some of them. There are over 4000. Somebody sure made a lot of poppets.You may find one of yours in this group. Forgive the excess space. Freaking Blogger. Off to rest now. g'night
Lisa is the creator of Poppets and other art. Talented authors tend to write stories about images she makes. At Strange Studios, in Palm Springs, California, she and fellow artist Benton Warren create fantastical kinetic works. This blog is about Poppets, life in the studio and other strange goings on.