Winter is coming, but summer is always on the other side..,
Another Saturday, another late night painting session. This time I’m working on a winter sky for the back side of the screen, making sure I like the design enough to live with it in the very likely event that it doesn’t sell right away at the craft fair. But this evening,I’m not working alone.
Two doors down from my office, Thing2 is busy excavating his room and, inadvertently, letting me know that he’s crossing a new threshold. The boy who was proud to have a room so messy but his mother is still working on a book about it is now at the tender age where He’s no longer content to sleep in a homemade landfill.
I remember when this phase which happened just a few short years ago with Thing1. Thirteen was just around the corner, and, suddenly, he saw his corner of the world just a little bit differently. he needed to make it his, and he finally got him to clean his room.
It’s a little bittersweet. On one hand, the room down the hall will no longer require that we get liability waivers before people enter it. On the other hand, when the room and the world changes like this, there’s no going back.
Summer’s done. Winter starts in the studio this week on the B-side of the screen.
Craft show season is nearly over, but I’m still loading up the bookshelf gallery in anticipation of the last big sale.
I had almost given up on craft shows because, even though I sold lots of notecards, selling watercolors, With all the glass frames, was more expensive and troublesome then profitable. This summer, however, I plunked down my membership fee to the summer market association in Arlington, Vermont and, after setting up a low-budget display of oil paintings, was pleasantly surprised.
Every other Friday at the farmers market and some Saturdays at the craft market, oil paintings found new homes. The money is nice, but watching your stock diminish is definitely a shot in the egotistical arm.
The final market is in two weeks. It’s a harvest fair, and one of the biggest events of the season for our little association. There are bigger fairs in the area, even on that weekend, but this summer has shown that sometimes smaller can be more fun and more rewarding.
Thing1 left for college about two weeks ago. It was a year overdue –a delay caused by his ulcerative colitis and the complete colectomy it dictated last fall. We knew it would be a (happy) change for him, but I underestimated how much of an adjustment it would be for all of us.
It was the middle of the night on Friday, and I was painting when I thought of it. I had planned to start a little bit earlier, but Thing2 and I decided to go for Chinese food. Dinner was a nice chance to talk about missing a brother but also about what was going on in Thing2’s life. That led to the start of a complete Star Wars marathon (including the less good ones), to make sure our Superfan status was in good shape before the next release. Its the umpteenth time I’ve seen the series, and the umpteen and first time for my offspring. I know this marathon will be the entree to another movie marathon featuring explosions and superheroes, and, even though I’ve been there and done those, Thing1’s departure has been reminding me that being here –being present — with Thing2 for every precious action-movie-filled minute I have with him for the next six years is a gift that is far more fleeting than I once thought possible.