painting pears, zentangling and a little time out.

The Black Door, by Felix. Aged 10.

Daisy cakes. I took Ruby to see our paediatrician on Tuesday and we talked a lot about you. She always says your name and it's one of the things I love about her; she's not scared to talk about you.

But I've been crying ever since.

I told her about the night of your birth, when a registrar woke me in the night to tap my arm and tell me that the jitters you were having "weren't seizures". And how the next day when another paediatrician measured your head, he casually told me that you had microcephaly. But we weren't to worry, there were maybe three other babies on the ward born with the jitters and maybe a couple more with smaller heads. 

And your birth is all I've thought about for the past two days now. Remembering how, when your Papa brought you back from your newborn hearing screen he said you'd failed it, but maybe it was because of all the newborn gunk in your little ears? But then over the next week you had three hearing tests, and you failed them all. And when the vomiting started and never stopped. And how no one could understand it, no one seemed to know why. I just wanted to get you out of that hospital and bring you home.

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I've been longing to paint since we moved here to this hill. How could I not want to paint when everyday I am surrounded by this amazing view?

I just want to get my skills back. Before last year I can't remember the last time I gave myself permission to draw or paint. I studied some art through uni and was surrounded by artists in the Kimberley and have always felt a pull towards the creative arts, but haven't done much about it for the longest time. Children take up so much of your energy and sick little children take up so much more. And that's okay. I would never have left Daisy to go off to a class, and I never left Ruby as a little one so sick either. I didn't want to leave them. But now that Daisy's gone and the other kids are older that longing for creativity has really increased. I thought my chance had come last year when I enrolled in visual arts at TAFE, but the course here has been cancelled after my first semester and I've been waiting for another door to open. Well yesterday it did.

We started by painting pears.

What a revelation. I knew as soon as I walked into the studio and listened to the artist teaching us that this is where I'm meant to be for now. And it's a great feeling, knowing that.

Look, I'm never going to be a great painter. As we talked about yesterday, it's not about the fine technical details of painting for me, am much more of a slap-it-on-in-broad-brush-strokes kind of girl. But it's the feeling it gives me that I crave. That feeling of calm and doing something I really love. It's really meditative, very therapeutic. I highly recommend picking up a pencil or a brush and letting yourself go with it. Especially with acrylics, they're basically foolproof. That pear number you see above I've painted over at least six times. Acrylics couldn't be more forgiving, they take 5 seconds to dry and off you go again, there's no wrong or right involved. Am still learning though when to stop, hence the painting over six times. Don't seem to get when enough's actually enough and when to put the brush down.

My lovely friend tells me that she gets her students to zentangle for the first few minutes of their class. It calms their minds before their lesson begins. It's meant to be relaxing and repetitive, even ritualistic. Sounds perfect to me. Apparently zentangling is where it's at. 

My little friends here at home think so too. We've been zentangling with our paints all afternoon.

Clementine will get her little mitts into anything messy, and couldn't stand to be left out. But Felix has never been one for craft or anything arty. He's not one of those kids who'll sit and draw all afternoon. Read yes, kick a ball, but not draw. Says art and religion are not his favourite subjects at school. Sigh.

Well today he asked if he could paint, and could I do it with him. We had a beautiful time together. He knew exactly what he wanted to paint, what colours, what style. He wasn't frustrated by it, just eager to do it. He'd like to frame it and hang it in his room. I love it.

Am going to make sure he gets more opportunities to do this with me. He and I both need this time to be still and quiet and let the paint do the talking.


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Have been wondering about you my Daisy girl and how you've had a hand in all of this. The bringing us home to this holy place and to all the doors we are passing through along the way.

To get to where we're meant to be.

Stay close little one. Miss you more than ever now. We all do. xx