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http://funkystock.photoshelter.com/g...000m16HtDP3gVE
Truly I’m getting more like my Dad everyday. Over the years even after his death I have had the
opportunity to suddenly be enlightened by the meaning of this or that phrase, circumstance, event in history and on and on.
My daughter cooked a turkey and did all the wonderful trimmings of pumpkin, pecan, pies, dressing, cranberry sauce, and so on and so forth.
It was our job to get the house ready for guests. At a total loss for anything different to decorate the table I wandered out to Lowes. On a rack outside were these lovely little cabbage plants marked way down. Fifteen of them were dirt cheap. As I wagged the box of them into the kitchen my mind began to be at a loss of how to use them to decorate. With no great creative foresight I simply began to wrap the square containers that held these lovely little leafy things in aluminum foil. Something about the colors seemed perfect for each other. After there fifteen were all wrapped with shiny foil, places in the kitchen almost called out for their presence. Atop the refrigerator, lined up on the middle of the long table, stuck here and there throughout
the room.
How appropriate they were and the term of endearment, Mon Petit, came to my mind. Some find it laughable that, “my little cabbage, should be a term of endearment. For some reason that part of the French reasoning came to be made clear to me.
“How pretty are these little cabbages, with leaves so fresh, clean and green. Truly how beautiful they are.” And so it is, after I’m gone my children and grandchildren will remember this
years dinner with the thought of everyone admiring the table setting and other little cabbages around the room. Maybe they will be interested enough to learn about our French ancestors, too.
So it goes with the bubbly mind of an artist. Tomorrow I must go for a canvas to do a painting of one of the little cabbage. The size will be 11x14 so that copies can be made of it and laminated to mail to our guests and give the original to my daughter for her to hang in her kitchen which is decorated with touches of that same green. Of course, the title will be “Mon Petit.”
Now you know how the mind of this artist works. Really there is nothing spectacular or great about it but does follow the thought that “An artist is never impoverished.”
http://funkystock.photoshelter.com/g...000m16HtDP3gVE
Truly I’m getting more like my Dad everyday. Over the years even after his death I have had the
opportunity to suddenly be enlightened by the meaning of this or that phrase, circumstance, event in history and on and on.
My daughter cooked a turkey and did all the wonderful trimmings of pumpkin, pecan, pies, dressing, cranberry sauce, and so on and so forth.
It was our job to get the house ready for guests. At a total loss for anything different to decorate the table I wandered out to Lowes. On a rack outside were these lovely little cabbage plants marked way down. Fifteen of them were dirt cheap. As I wagged the box of them into the kitchen my mind began to be at a loss of how to use them to decorate. With no great creative foresight I simply began to wrap the square containers that held these lovely little leafy things in aluminum foil. Something about the colors seemed perfect for each other. After there fifteen were all wrapped with shiny foil, places in the kitchen almost called out for their presence. Atop the refrigerator, lined up on the middle of the long table, stuck here and there throughout
the room.
How appropriate they were and the term of endearment, Mon Petit, came to my mind. Some find it laughable that, “my little cabbage, should be a term of endearment. For some reason that part of the French reasoning came to be made clear to me.
“How pretty are these little cabbages, with leaves so fresh, clean and green. Truly how beautiful they are.” And so it is, after I’m gone my children and grandchildren will remember this
years dinner with the thought of everyone admiring the table setting and other little cabbages around the room. Maybe they will be interested enough to learn about our French ancestors, too.
So it goes with the bubbly mind of an artist. Tomorrow I must go for a canvas to do a painting of one of the little cabbage. The size will be 11x14 so that copies can be made of it and laminated to mail to our guests and give the original to my daughter for her to hang in her kitchen which is decorated with touches of that same green. Of course, the title will be “Mon Petit.”
Now you know how the mind of this artist works. Really there is nothing spectacular or great about it but does follow the thought that “An artist is never impoverished.”