I say "silk to paint" because I just took a class at the Arboretum to learn just that. Oh, what fabulous fun. Now, I love batiking, from the one class I took back at the Crossings Gallery in Zumbrota, Minnesota (& if you can possibly manage to take that class there, I urge you to do so) but it takes infrastructure--an electric frying pan full of hot wax, an iron, a clothes line, buckets of dye--to batik. Painting on silk is much simpler, in material terms--& holy gutta, batman, is it a blast. (Gutta is the resist that you draw with, to keep the dye in--or out of--a particular area.)
Here's a photo of one of my first efforts--with cello, guitar & postcards thrown in.
I walked at the Arboretum with a friend this fine & fabulous February day. (Fainting yet? Fatigued? Feeling one more "F" word will fling you off (cleverly stuffed those in at the end of the word) a cliff?
I have many more things to write about, of a much more serious nature, like my dear Aunt Betty Lou dying suddenly of a massive stroke. She's the first of that generation to go. The funeral is today, with a wind chill of 18 below in Melstone, Montana. I guess it had to get that cold to usher her warm heart out of this world. Here's to Aunt Betty Lou, back to pure positive energy, & everyone who loves her, who are perhaps not feeling as pure & positive just now. No one could cook for a crew like Aunt Betty Lou, not even my own mom!
113. Think of someone dear who has flung herself--or himself--into the next plane of existence, whatever you believe that to be. Write down your four or five favorite things about them. (her cooking, her smile, her laugh, the way she said, "You kids....")