“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


Sunshine, A chair, a can of paint

There was sunshine today and I painted a chair.

A real chair, not a painting, one that was a beautiful brown, and one that the lovely, lovely Katie thought should stay brown to balance all the white in the room, but I knew when I agreed she was probably right that I would probably paint it anyway. And when the day showed up with sunshine I couldn't resist and it is no longer brown, it is "Celtic Gray" which is really a pale greenish gray that looks an ooonch blue and the house just seems full of that sunshine, so much lighter and happier, and my soul also, painting a meditation for me, just like sweeping. Yesterday I painted a bench that sits at the foot of my bed and the night before I repainted a child's chair I found at a flea market; I needed the soothing of painting something, something that wasn't art. I have always loved painting walls and painting furniture but it's been a long time - I haven't been up to it lately and we even paid someone to paint the back room at work because I just didn't want to do it, but this weekend, this long weekend to myself, something clicked softly back into place, a number on the lock guarding the safe to my soul sliding into place; I almost physically felt it. One number down, how many more to go until I am open again? A question I can't answer, and really I don't care - the beginning has begun.

I painted while listening to tv movies, something with Harrison Ford, something with someone else, and I painted with mindlessness and total attention and care. I could tell you the plots to the movies, and the paint dripped only once. It is a small thing - this time alone, the phone not ringing, but an important thing, a healing for me. Yesterday a hose to the new washer broke and in the midst of painting I had to stop, I had to move the washer, I had to clean up, and when I was finished, I began to paint again, spilling paint on the floor, on me, jittery, tense, my moment gone. There was a concert to attend last night, new people to meet, and after emailing assurances I would be there, I fell asleep, waking too late to make it, but knowing I needed the break. Perhaps the best thing all around, the staying alone, the resting. I watched Lifetime TV's tale of Georgia O'Keeffe, finding it too much Steiglitz & not enough O'Keeffe, but also finding myself understanding O'Keeffe's need for solitude, and finding myself missing the desert Southwest, wanting a house with a black door.

When I find the right house, I will buy a can of black paint.
i see a red door & i want to paint it black


  1. Georgia O'Keefe has been popping up everywhere lately...must be a cosmic thing.
    Painting is very therapeutic. Very meditative. Time alone heals. I like to refuel alone. Its what fills me up. Not being around a million people.
    Harrison Ford movies. Hmmm. I think I've seen him in Star Wars. That is it. I'll look for him in something else.

  2. Hi there you. I've found you on Graciel's blog and was stunned with the story you've wrote there. So I was curious and wanted to see the you behind this name, behind this story. I'm gladd I've found your blog and will visit again soon. Thanks for letting me have a peek into your life.
    Bye for now Dagmar

  3. What lovely inspiration... I'll be lost in color in a few minutes, but I wanted to visit with a few lovelies first.

    I think of the Rolling Stones - "I see a red door and I want to paint it black..."



  4. I really identified with this post. I dvred the movie. I have always been fascinated with her work and the ability to take something simple in nature and make it so spectacular. If I had a door I would pain it blue.

  5. geiorgia o'keefe was the number one search, on msn.com yesterday. huh.
    paint my sister, paint.

  6. solitude and a can of paint ESPECIALLY celtic grey..bliss. I think your writing is so tender and touching Debi...i was nodding yes while reading this...a faint smile..thoughts of new mexico waft in and around my mind

  7. I love to paint like that...getting totally lost. I need that time alone too...it's good for my soul. I do hope you find that house...

  8. This sounds a bit like my life lately, finding both serenity and struggling with the jittery, miserable parts of myself, even bouncing between them haphazardly. I'm glad you were able to rest, and I hope that house is waiting for you just around the corner.

  9. I have always wanted to find an interesting piece of furniture and paint it, but I have never found the right piece, and I think I would be a bit afraid to totally mess it up if I painted it wrong. I guess that's the nice thing about paint..you can always paint over. But still, the task feels a bit daunting.
    Still, one day, I will try.


  10. i watched that movie too and wanted to go back for a visit to New Mexico.
    i have a chest of drawers I need to paint - it's is a peaceful thing when the mood is right.

  11. Sigh. sigh.

    the beginning has begun

    What a phrase. What a lovely thought. You make me happy. You make me still, soften, open.


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