For all that is wrong with this world. For all that is hard about life. For all that scars us and makes us want to hide. And makes us want to scream. There are simple, happy pumpkin patches. Drippy, sticky artwork smeared to life by little hopeful hands. Tender souls who take the time to make the small feel safe. … Continue reading Still

The Art of Playing

I'm not an artist. Just a mom of three. The only art I see, honestly, are the crayon drawings on my refrigerator door and sculptures made of Play-Doh. I couldn't tell a watercolor from a pastel, a Carravagio from a Rembrandt, art deco from pop art. But ... I am noticing lately, an art that pervades my life, … Continue reading The Art of Playing