Musings on the Delightfully Mundane
It’s truly summertime. Late nights on the porch, watching fireflies drift up and down with the temperature.
Turkey hens and their broods roaming across the yard, the adults like mechanical, prehistoric creatures, followed by fluffy little children’s book illustration chicks. Rains, usually light, but also suddenly torrential and moving sideways amidst hugely cracking thunder. Songbirds, owls, rabbits, dragonflies, insects, bears, squirrels … that’s the fauna, and then there’s still the amazing abundance of flora. I have, like, a one square foot yard view, yet it’s teeming with gorgeous life.
The neighborhood itself buzzes with the collective sounds of everyday summer activities… Yard equipment. Watering. Nice neighbors calling out Hello’s as they go about their gardening and dog walking. Folks literally stop to smell the roses. The soft thumps of car doors signal peoples’ trips and returns. There’s also that slightly faraway whooshing sound of cars on a seemingly distant — but really nearby — thoroughfare.
Expanding outward, toward that major street, I sometimes indulge my regular cravings for vegan ice cream at The Hop. The scent and taste of Lavender Vanilla. I enjoy two scoops in a cup as I meander home slowly, observing nooks and crannies in old stone walls, which hover over narrow, laugh-line cracked sidewalks. The noises of “over there” recede as the more familiar sounds of my own itsy block of safety and security increase.
Back inside, I’m surrounded by relics of my past and possibilities for my future. Artists tend to collect odd things (and perhaps too many of them). Writers seem to have lots of books and stacks of papers and articles about — what, exactly? Throw in an admittedly bizarre predilection for thrift store chair bargains, and my home starts to sound a bit … overstuffed. But my space is also filled with memorabilia related to family and friends, as well as to hand-made artwork by artists, most of whom I know. Incredibly resilient aloe, jade and orchid plants round out the experience. Most of the surfaces support my drawing efforts, and I envision my work going out into other peoples’ personal worlds.
Why the lengthy description of my immediate surroundings? Because all of what I’ve described serves as a resource for renewal for me when I’m needing to re-find my creative center, whether in art or writing. For some artists, the demands of our season, where visitors flock to WNC in droves, include crazy schedules combined with increased inventory needs. It’s a good problem to have, for sure, but it can be a little overwhelming at times.
Recently, I have been re-reading a favorite author, and being in awe all over again at nearly every sentence Eudora Welty wrote, I have felt undeserving to even pick up a pen. Over-inspired to the point of creative paralysis, it is helpful for me to pause, breathe, take stock of what I can immediately experience in my corner of the world, and come back to balance.
So, in case you find yourself in the midst of a summer doldrum, I share my humble observations, in case you want to try it, too. And I recommend SLLAB: “Stop, Look, Listen, Appreciate, Breathe.” Re-noticing the small stuff can ignite a spark. The simple things can inspire creativity deep within. And somewhere in there, go have some ice cream. It is summer, after all!
