Cloud Shaper

My mom was a writer. That was her medium as an artist for nearly as long as I can remember. She was never published, but she should have been. I am a writer, but so far I haven’t had the staying power to write more than a long essay. My mom wrote books. She also wrote short stories and songs and things.

Later she started exploring some other art medium. I remember her telling me that she felt art should be impermanent. That’s one of the reasons she used chalk on cardboard. I am not too familiar with her artwork. Much of it happened after I moved away and while I was still a self-focused twenty-something. And then we began our disagreements and neither of us was sharing much with each other. Then it was too late.

She was more artistically interactive with my aunt, I think. In July, at mom’s memorial my aunt shared that mom would always tell her that she didn’t have to explain her art to anyone. Immediately after mom died, she went into her studio and made three pieces which were far more abstract than she usually is. Then she didn’t make any artwork for nearly a year until the sand memorial that she built.

After we released mom (and rusty) into the sea, my other aunt was distraught and so I was telling her how mom wasn’t in any pain anymore. How she was now with family that had gone before her.

And how she had probably been put in charge of cloud sculpture.

Which is what this post is really about.  Because yesterday, in the midst of great thunderous storm clouds, my mom cleared out a bright shiny window and sent a puppy gallivanting through it. Maybe it was Rusty in his childhood puppy cloud guise. I do admit that it looked a little more like a Scotty dog, though.

That’s cute, mom. I see you.

Thanks for peeking in on us.

Kangaroo on a Pogo Stick

No sooner did I post about spring having sprung, then the weather turned all to crap. So, after a lot of fist shaking, stomping, and whining I remembered that I live in Central Oregon and THAT’S JUST THE WAY IT IS.

It does you no good to wail and rage against the weather. It won’t change it. All it really does is help you to focus your attention more on what you don’t like instead of what you do like. Around here you actually can believe the saying, “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.” I’ve come to understand, in the last few days, that the reason this season is called spring isn’t because the plants spring up. It’s because the weather bounces around between extremes. It’s like trying to catch a kangaroo on a pogo stick. It’s erratic, you can’t predict it, and it’s probably going to fall on you. You also have no control over it. So, all you can do is put on some protective headgear and enjoy the spectacle.

On Thursday we had weather in the 60’s. Friday we had snow in the morning which then disappeared and was replaced by a warm sunny beautiful day again. And since then it’s been rainy, sunny, windy, hailing, and snowing. On Monday I started spring term. On my drive over it was raining and/or cloudy and/or sunny. The DJ on the radio said, “temperatures in the 50’s, winds in the 60’s, chance of rain in the 90’s”

I called it Cloudy with a Chance of Rainbows