I've been spending the evening waffling between feeling melancholy about this wonderful summer coming to a close, blissful about the wonder it's been, and feeling excited about the start of a new school year. For many years now I thought I'd be a writer someday...I wrote most of a novel about 15 years ago (I stopped when I began grossing myself out with too much gore), wrote and illustrated three children's books that I use in my classroom for different units, and I've dabbled in writing short stories. Well, this summer has brought out in me storytelling with a paintbrush. Dare I say I consider myself a real-life artist now? I look at my right hand, with a lovely scab-covered burn from a couple of weeks ago, and think, "who knew?" When I've seen art around town I've found that my reactions run the gamut, loving it fiercely all the way to totally hating it. I figure people think the same range about what I do. But, I love that I sit back after I've worked on something and I almost always dig it. I think that rocks.
I had the great privilege of hanging out at Casa Wonderlandia over the summer for a few days. Had the place to myself while I watered all the plants (no small task, it took 90 minutes per day!) and fed the delightful, yet elusive, kitty, Booga. As I slowly walked the property while watering, I snapped many shots of the beautiful plants and adornments. I've referred back to many of these over the past weeks and have had so much fun drawing my impression of them, hoping to capture the beauty and whimsy that is Casa Wonderlandia. Here's another one...and, yeah, it makes me happy.