Saturday, December 16, 2006


sometimes i get so far into my week and look back, i've not written much (though i've written quite a few poems), i've not blogged or written prose. things seem a little undefined.

thursday my girl and i were in yonkers, and the fog was hanging over the palisades cliffs making the hudson river banks indistinguishable. gulls circled over head and sounded their piercing cry.

as we were driving down to the museum, i kept saying,
look, it's so beautiful. look at those old buildings.

even in the starkness of fall, it is gorgeous here. i keep getting lost, but it is less harrowing to me now than it was. i keep getting found and that is reassuring.

on friday we went to an art class and my girl created two clay horses. she's in that horse phase. always talking about horses. the child has never owned one, or rode one much, but she is intent on learning about them and working with them. she keeps asking for one, as if we could fold up the legs and put it in a closet at night.

maybe, when we go back to texas.

we keep telling her. who knows. i don't know the first thing about horses. but i'd learn if i had to.

so she created two little clay ponies and painted a canvas (9x6) at this art class. we'd been searching for an art class that emphasized creative freedom. no agenda. just access to materials i don't have lying around the house. granted, i'm willing to get a lot of materials, i've given her access to a great many things, but i can't do it all.

driving there, getting lost, running late, stuck in traffic, i'm pretty frantic by the time we arrive.
this is the last time we're coming here, so enjoy it.
i said. (such a fine mother. aren't i?) but i hate getting lost. i hate driving to classes. and i'm sure the child hates having me all freaked out.

so, i walked in at the end of the class, and she was there, fashioning a mane for her horse. had the head/neck/body configuration for her pony beside her.
i'm making a pony,
she said.

finish up then.
i'd calmed down by then. sitting alone in the car. ah, the silence. watching squirrels waving their bushy tails, grooming, preening, strutting. one red squirrel waved his tail back and forth like a serpentine streamer, repeatedly. he seemed to be very dramatic about this. and then he runs along the fence before me and i see the other grey squirrel. perky, bushy tail.

i said.
it makes sense.

they preened for each other for a while and then grey squirrel skittered away. red squirrel pursued a few steps then returned to waving his tail and strutting his stuff.

the big dilemma with me and homeschooling is, do i enroll her in a class and potentially get exposure to something i wouldn't normally teach her. a method, a person, a technique. or do i not enroll her and wing it, as i'm inclined to do.

after the museum trip on thursday and the grumpy old docent who barked questioned at the kids (i figure, it is a life experience, she's learning how to deal with difficult people types in these settings. and seeing i'm not such a crabby, shabby teacher at all).

friday's venture out was polar opposite. the artists at this venue rescued this old church from decay and restored it. creating a place for shows and classes, to enrich the community. they did not have funding, but will alone. my kind of folks those artists.

we have passed on a great many class options because i was looking for this class. i want my girl to be encouraged to hear her own creative voice and not yield to the dictates of some teacher. it was worth the wait to find this gem.

today, we go hiking in bear mountain. such a lovely setting. i shall ditch the troop at some point (i the rogue leader, who helps out not much of late), and enjoy the silence. you see, silence and a troop of girls doesn't go hand in hand. so i must away. i must get apart to hear myself think.

my girl will enjoy the hike and i will have some time either by the lake or in the mountains to be. creativity comes after silence. after stillness. after sojourns like these. i need a psychic rest, and today, i go to find one.

1 comment:

Miss Audrey said...

You know, I titled my memoirs, Even in Silence and I even tied in the phrase, but the truth be told: I think only in silence. Nice post Suz.