Back when the children and I spent the whole summer break at the cottage, we often ran out of fresh produce between trips to the grocery store, which was thirty miles away. When we were down to the last few apples, they would begin eyeing, like fox salivating over the chicken coop, any pieces of fruit that might be posing for me in a still life subject.
“Are you almost done with that apple, Mom?”
It’s a mental game - it’s no good if you are tense or unable to focus. Very technical - you have to develop a feel for it. If you want to improve, you have to practice; there are no short cuts. It takes years to master. Wait a minute…are we talking about painting or golfing?
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It’s a challenge to choose one word as a focal point for a whole year - whether you are a seven-year-old or a 45-year-old. It calls for a big idea - something elastic enough to stretch over twelve months and to bind together the specifics of daily life.
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As the barrel filled with water, yellow and orange leaves floated on the surface like paper origami crane, wings pointing upward.
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Somewhere in the layers of this collage is also my satisfying memory of the happenings of one year ago - but, especially, the arrival of my granddaughter.
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