I suppose it’s ever the “tree in the forest” scenario — does the art in my sketchbook matter if no one sees it? My initial response is yes, because I know why I’m doing it. I know that each bird carries a different truth than the weight of worry that can sneak in. I know that each bird allows me the comfort of nesting. The courage of “out on a limb.” The gathering of friends on a wire. The song of an ever hopeful choir. They are all these things and more with each added color, each feather, and I am saved. And that could be the end of the story. I suppose it’s enough of a sound. But it begs the question, in being saved, are we meant to save it?

It was sweet Margaux and her brother who gave me the sketchbook for Christmas. I needed her to see what all the blank had become so far. To hear all the trees in my forest. Her ooohs and aaaahs echoed above the din of creation and twice with a trop beaux (too beautiful!)! And I thought, not in an arrogant way, that it was too beautiful, too beautiful not to be shared — all this saving, all this joyful noise. 

And I guess it’s the way with life, with love, it’s beautiful to feel, but it’s better shared. So with brush and heart I turn the page, and begin once again. Can you hear it?