Moose Feathers

So it's Saturday afternoon, brilliant blue sky, and I've given myself a few more minutes at the desk before going for a ride in Katy. I love throwing a bridle on in the winter, hopping on her back, and just taking a walk through the woods. Snow is deep and melting fast. We skiied with Mike and Marcia this morning with the three young dogs beside themselves with energy and poor old Spike plodding in our wake. Yesterday, thinking about our puppy, Georgie, as I skiied:

She's got way too much tail for a Russell
And her ears don't stand up as they ought
Her legs are too long
And her teeth are all wrong
But this is the puppy we got . . .

Brilliant poetry! I think like a five year old sometimes, but that's good. Maybe more too come? I do love how ideas flow when we are doing things other than art, like how my swimming/flying idea for my new picture book text, Moose Feathers, came during shavasana (sp?) at yoga class the other night. I've been working my way through chapter one of The Artist's Way. What a great book. Doing my morning pages does seem to center me for the day, but now I'm not getting as much reading done, and the transcribing of my great great-grandfather's journals isn't getting done either. And ever since I went to Kindling Words in January, I've been frustrated with teaching, or the time it takes away from my writing. I truly love my students, even the difficult ones, who are few. It's been very exciting watching their drawing develop this year and thinking that I might have something to do with it. I feel deeply that this odd year of a different path was the right detour for now. I will use what I have learned in unexpected ways. Maybe I will be a little better at drawing myself. Maybe I will try some illustration again.