It is looking a lot like Christmas in this house. The tree is aglow with lights and seasonal decorations thanks to Avery, Piper and Violet Terry and Harper and Foster Risk, our great grandkids for taking time to do the enjoyable task.
The old needle dropper is showing age , but when she gets all dressed up in her finery ; none can compare to her beauty! Fact is, if I see another season she will be here waiting on the kids and Santa.
Santa look-alikes dressed in their bright red work clothes are hanging out in every room. The lame deer are still standing on the shelf with a retired elf and a few sprigs of dried-out mistletoe.
Paul is still working on a landscape in oil for Lori and I completed painting a few plates. Lori chose flowers. I picked a vase of roses in full bloom , from my memory bank, for the gifted artist.
May be the feedback will be good.
When I was a kid I loved art class. I could not wait until Miss Mary Buckley, came to Alabama Street School and, later, to Meridian each week to teach us to draw.
Simple things , as a beginner lead into more practice in her classroom at Brazil Junior High School. Special Art was an advanced study which I enjoyed until graduation.
Then, I tucked art away for over sixty years. I did the same with writing and poetry, as my family , friends and former classmates can attest.
I may see my work differently than others, though; I feel a sense of pride and joy when I pen a poem or pen my thoughts in my journals and/or are featured in books and other places.
I was fifty-eight years old before those hidden passions awoke from a deep sleep and faith stepped in and took charge of me and my low self - esteem.
My sister Sandra Gallardo and her husband Gilbert are planning to visit before Christmas. I know there are many folks in Brazil and surrounding areas like she and I that create and fancy arts and crafts.
The gifted crafter make beautiful quilts, smocked pillows and other lovely things that she markets on Ebay and gifts to family and friends.
So, I painted her a plate that features a little elderly lady working on a Crazy quilt on the night before Christmas, the favorite pattern of our Grandma Siner, that rated up there with Flower Garden. This senior can hardly wait for her to open her gifts.
I framed the following poem for Sandra and share it with you.
IT’ WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS AND
THE QUILTS WERE NOT MADE
The threads were all tangled and the cookies delayed
The stockings weren’t hung, the pantry was bare.
The poor weary Quilter was tearing her hair.
Stacks of fat quarters, tipped over in streams.
When what to her weary eyes should appear,
But, a busload of quilters with all of their gear.
They went straight to work with a few mutters
Sorting and stitching and brandishing their cutters.
The patterns emerged from all of that clutter.
Like magic the fabric arranged in a flutter.
Log Cabins, Lone Stars, Flying Geese and Bear Tracks
Each quilt was a beauty, even their backs
Her house how it twinkled, her quilts how they glowed.
The cookies were baked, the stockings were sewed.
The work was all done, so, they folded their frames,
And packed up their needles, without giving names.
They boarded the bus, and checked out the next address.
More quilts to be made, more quilters in distress
She heard a voice echo, as they drove out of sight,
Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!
Now this writer must check on my favorite artist and our girl, Tootie Mae.
I can be reached by phone at 317- 286- 7352 or drop me a line to 649 South Grant St.,
Brownsburg, IN., 46112.