P R O J E C T N O. 3
paintings & procrastinations
ENTRY 20
Now when I hear mimosa, I expect it served chilled with brunch.
Mimosas aren't just for brunch.
It has been years since I've seen a mimosa tree. I came across this one the other day and it took my breath away.
A mimosa grew in my backyard as a child and I loved it. I would eagerly await the arrival of the blossoms. It bloomed princesses in swirling pink ball gowns. As they fell, I would twirl them in my fingers to make them dance in the air. In the fall, it grew long pods that I would crack open to reveal dark brown seeds, perfect for "cooking" in my toy kitchen. The tree was my childhood. The tree was sweet summer.
My mother hated it and voiced her disdain.
Apparently it is a weed and a nuisance. A tree that creates nothing but mess requiring constant sweeping. I was sad to hear my magical tree verbally abused.
At 46 things are different. I don't see the swirling princesses anymore. I am left with just a faded memory. I see things from my mother's point of view. I wouldn't want to sweep up the mess of the mimosa tree either.
Now when I hear mimosa, I expect it served chilled with brunch.
Got Art?
Just some rough sketches from my journal and a photo this week. My creative muse is on vacation. I think she went to Brasil to see the World Cup.
Sketch #1 is called "Dean Gets a Nose Ring." Sketch #2 is called "Dean's Mom"
Discovered this in my kitchen one afternoon. Sun and glass creates abstract art.
"Cheese Shadow"
Discovered this in my kitchen one afternoon. Sun and glass creates abstract art.
