Eight blank journals are ready for the December 1 Art Show. I've been puttering away at them, unsure of how I wanted to finish them. Yesterday I just began collaging the fronts, painting with gesso and acrylics, using my markers and scraps of paper. Because isn't it more fun to write in a pretty journal than a plain one? Yes. I thought you'd agree.
In the upstairs storage room there is a shelf of journals, each page filled with prose, poems, lists, quotes and even a few sketches. There are long gaps between some entries, but the journals tell the story of much of my life. It's surprising how often I go and look something up in a journal. And then get caught up reading the words written long ago.
I left these two journals plain because I used old nautical charts that my husband was THROWING AWAY. They are sturdy and smooth and speak of adventures on the sea. Wouldn't it be great to have a chart of our inner landscape as readily available? Perhaps that's what the blank pages are for - charting life.
Our son is on a business trip - in Boston - clear across the continent as well as the border. He's flying home today, on the busiest travel day in the US.
Happy Thanksgiving to all of my American readers. I'm thankful for you! Enjoy the turkey and the pie, but most of all, each other!