with dinner comes paint...

one wee little: mama

me: ya

one wee little: you know what

me: what

one wee little: it feels like a painting kind of day

me: does it now

one wee little: yep, what do you say

me: well, i guess painting it will be

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me: but first can i finish making dinner and then we can paint

one wee little: can't you do both

me: well i guess i can

one wee little walks over to the fridge and grabs himself a huge handful of cranberries

me: what are you going to do with those, might i ask

one wee little: {looking at me as if i had no brain} paint mama, i'm gonna paint

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me: oh, i see...what colors would you like

one wee little: how's about green, gold, you know, the shiny kind and black

me: green, black and the shiny kind of gold, huh?

one wee little: yep, oh and mama, can i have a a piece of the carrot your cutting?

me: a piece of carrot...for eating or painting

one wee little: painting, remember we're painting

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one wee little: oh and i need a piece of that celery too

me: one piece of celery and carrot coming up

one wee little: thanks mama

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me: no problem

i sat for a moment and watched the creator at hand

fascinated always i am 

to watch my wee little at work

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one wee little: look mama...abstract

me: lookin good buddy, lookin good

though i thought to myself...it was turning out quite cute at first

but tis not my process

nor my art

one wee little: mama...aren't you going to paint

me: well dinner is done, so i most definitely can

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one lesson this wee little has given me

is...it's not  so much about the finished piece 

as it is the process

it is within those moments

that teaches us to be impertinent  

just as a child

their mind allotting the freedom to play

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one wee little: are you painting the sky

me: honestly buddy, i am not quite sure...but i  guess the sky it could be

one wee little: could you imagine a gold filled sky

me: wouldn't that be a dream

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one wee little: you are painting trees...will you teach me how to paint a tree like that

me: most definitely so

so on this day

i say awaken your mind

rekindle with the child of what once was 

seek it out

go knockin on it's door

dust off the cobwebs that have collect over time

shake off the fears that came to be

restrained by an adult like mind 

hold no reservations

have no hesitation

don't waste away time

forgetting what it means to play

as my littles forever are teaching me

life is  found in the process of doing

not in the finished piece

woods of winter...

as i knit

i imagine walking the woods...

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shades of browns and grays and soft subtle sweets hues of pink filling my eyes... bleakness...starkness...the land surrounding...tis a silent hush...sleeping ones tending their spirit at best...resting quietly...calmly...no stirring found...desolate scenes left  standing from the winds and rain...the frigid ice and snow...yet the river rages...dancing upon the rocks below...

Ruth Stout once said:

"There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you. In Spring, Summer and Fall people sort of have an open season on each other  Only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quieter stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself."