simplicity
“The canvas looks like birch bark,” said Thalia. “Twelve by eighteen — or more? — inches of white space with nine words.”
“No flowers, or trees, or people, or… anything… are design trends shifting again?” asked Calliope. “Simple treasures are life pleasures?”
Urania and Thalia shrugged their shoulders with the synchrony of Rockettes.
“Kinda dull if you ask me.” Thalia doodled a field of colorful flowers on the back of the electric bill’s envelope. In the middle of the new studio’s table there are repurposed glass yogurt and candle containers filled with markers, colored pencils, paperclips, a scissors, and a tiny succulent from the garden center down the road. “To each his own.”
“She might have bought the piece if it was reasonably priced… ,” said Urania the frugal.
“Nothing in the gift section of a grocery is reasonably priced… except fresh flowers… they must have over-bought daffodils and Easter Lillies.” Thalia replied. “She did snap the pic though… because Whitman’s words created a feeling in her.”
“What feeling is that?” asked Calliope.
“She felt… accompanied… ,” said Urania. “Sometimes she can’t remember the details of her conversations… nice to know Whitman experienced the same.”
“Maya Angelou recognized this too — she said people will forget what others say or do, but will remember how they make them feel,” Thalia added.
“Every interaction is an opportunity to lift somebody up or tear them down?” Calliope pulled a yellow pencil from the tray and held it out to Thalia. “Do your flowers need some sunshine?”
Thalia took Calliope up on her offer… and drew an oversized sun.
Happy spring, Gail! I'm thrilled to see you published some work. I just ordered my copy of Wandering Words and it delivers on Friday. It will be with me in my backpack next week as I wander with you on my train ride into the city. And a hummingbird was spotted in my area - it's early, so time to make the nectar. Waking to these two discoveries this morning made my day!