Seeds

There’s a joke going around: Why is 2020 is a unique leap year? Because February had 29 days, and March had 500.

We are in April now. Spring at last. In the morning light, these seed pods look like modern sculpture.

COVID-19 has handed me a sort of surprise retirement. Into that space old knowledge/longing reappeared: Time to plant. This weekend I dragged pots to the porch, found the last bit of potting soil. Parsley, dill, zinnias, morning glories, some seeds like sand that will be a surprise. Ordered marigolds and nasturtiums. Hope grows in the garden.

I began a collage series by painting over stacks of class handouts, stuff I won’t need now. It felt great to sweep color across page after page. But the color's I’d mixed were disappointing. The papers looked dull when they dried. Gave it one more go with stencils.

Leftover paints softened the ground papers, 4” cards from scrap Bristol. Tear, rip, rearrange, repeat.

The small acts of creation provided a way back in after weeks of paralysis.

Painted papers mingled with materials found around the house. Color crept in. Gold, green, red. A reflection of returning energy. Sap moving up the tree. There should be leaves soon.

We are all like seeds, waiting for the signal to grow. From what I read, our growth will be slow and unlike what we have known before. So what pieces can we use now, at home? Make do. Be patient. Create with the supplies at hand.