I have intense preteen memories of being embarrassed by my mother. Mostly they center on picking up trash on our way home from Central Park or stopping by the side of the road in Long Island to pick flowers. I remember driving down what seemed like unknown roads and stopping the car so she could pick daylilies, phlox, daisies and clover to put on the table in a jar in our summer rental. My parents rented renovated barns so Dad could have studio space and we could be out of the city and near the water.
My adult life mirrors those childhood memories with odd distortions. I live by the water but it is only a pond not the Atlantic. I pick flowers to put in my vases and my studio resembles a barn. I am sure I have embarrassed both Warren and Zoe in my desire to stop and pick all the same flowers by the side of the road while they worry that some irate owner will come around the bend.
"I woke in bits, like all children, piecemeal over the years. I discovered myself and the world, and forgot them, and discovered them again. " --Annie Dillard, An American Childhood
So nice to hear your story as it continues here. We have honeysuckle too. My daughter Evelyn loves it and I relive my childhood through her.
Thank you for your truly inspiring site. Being new to making clay work over the last two years has opened me to a new passion in art and photography. Your site is the culmination of many ideas I shall never reach, but will keep trying.
I will save your site and check in as time allows.