each artwork has its own story while painting the piece

My mother was an artist with many hats and very far from her time in life

We had river rock floors in our bathroom long before there where DIY instructions on line.
Thursday nights were "family craft nights"  we all loved those as it was always a surprise as to what we were going to use or make.  with 7 children no two were ever alike

I remember in the 3rd grade my friend Linda Hanning had made this beautiful girl in art class and gave it to me to keep.  pretty sure I didn't just take it.... it had to have been given to me...... am honestly not sure now.  home I came with the beautiful paper doll.  Mama asked where did I get that, of course  I remember saying ....why I colored it myself.  the look on her face was priceless.  (we all secretly thought her to be Merlin incarnated from mid evil times Emphasis on evil here as my brother Monty assured me).    it so happened this was Thursday family night.

We gathered around the table each to his own chair with Ricky laying on the floor at Mamas feet.   Six we were Monty me who secretly thought I was left on the doorstep as I looked nothing like the others and had recently changed my name to Thomasina aft the fairy Thumblina.  there were the two magpies as Daddy dubbed them Tonya  (TJ) and shahara Beth  (Shari) then our resident handyman Aaron Shane .  Tracy Michele was there but en utero  bouncing in anticipation which fascinated me no end.  Ricky being the oldest special be was (word used by my family first) lay on floor silently trying to bounce the jump rope off of the corner ceiling of the knotty pine walls that surrounded our living area.

Jan 16, 2014
Growing as a child....you absorb all that is "heard" be it the adults, other children, family,
then.  There are - voices.  One starts out in life saying these are my angels, my special friend
or simply......Angels you know.  Mine were always close at hand however after was laughed at
heartily by some 7-8 year olds..(school click) they became invisible and quiet for a time to me.
Truthfully am surprised I was older before experiencing this.  I had always accepted the
"scarecrow" names given to me by my peers - or sonnyclutz (not allowed to join in on jump
rope at recess-always managed to trip over the rope)  Mama had told me there are children in
school who just were ignorant-were her words (This in part was due to horrific looks my brother
Ricky had to endure along with the name calling whispered). 
If Ricky can bear it.....who am I not to dismiss them quickly and without any thought to the
names/faces.  Soon found that....there were no more fairy lights, no little glimpses into the sky to watch the sandman spread his sparkles across the open fields.  Then....the clouds changed.
The rain did not slowly fall to the ground and allow you to watch it dance across your hands or fall on your nose while your eyes crossed and smiles of warmth to appear as glimmering crystals upon contact.