Once Mrs. Wren came to my room to read a book to the kids. Very Random, unexpectedly lovely.
I love wrens, with their little tushes up in the air on the back way.
One morning there was a huge roadrunner bopping around in the roses. Just there. That was exciting.
34°13' 28" N, 119°11' 36" W
When I was 15 or so, I was out looking at the peonies and the grape arbor (so it would have been spring, evening was settling in ) I looked up, the sky was blazing with a meteor shower. Streaks of fire. I like to wish on stars. This was even better. It was low, like being caught in their twinkling.
Finding those baby fish all through my tank seemed such a random treat. Just boom there they were hiding in the plants. Exciting.
When I drove through Arizona, to 1st come out west in 1983, (my car drive to "know America", at 27) all of a sudden clouds descended into the redness of the place. It darkened to green and rain in a fury came down as the freeway went to impassible. Literally a second with hail balls. Then it passed, strong circular wind. And the sky was green. Earth red, and a rainbow was there. It was one unlike all the rest. (The other rainbows have always been the most incredible of treats.) This was like one might make for those we love to mark their lives.
As it turns out that had been a tornado passing me.
I've been in three tornadoes. Exciting, frightening. The power...
My mind flashes me to the sky.
It is for me the ultimate act of random beauty. Yesterday out of the blue I went to watch the birds all day down by the shore, pretty painfree and getting lovely shots. Then I sat on the shore and it filled with sunset. (None of the kids interested in this) it was a glorious sky. My pictures stunning.
My favorite part of drawing is how much you don't predict. It appears. It is the accidental, perhaps the mystic nature of the act of creation. The more open you are to this in your work, to it's possibility, the more the process becomes like your act of love.
A walk is a random act of seeing the day for what it holds. A favorite place to be is on one's feet.
When my kids were little and now sometimes, they start to play and the room, away of course from "the parents," fills
the house with the laughter of the magpies.
Dad had his "issues" but I loved our Sunday drives. We'd just go up the country roads stopping somewhere and walking around finding trillium, violets, red buds, ginger root, a deer perhaps, if we were lucky. I've loved drives. But now we don't take them....different world.
Cats have a quality that make them such interesting pets. Mostly ignoring, once in awhile they let you know they like to be around you, it is so seldom in mine , you can't know the fun of being worth their moment's time.
Finding...something. Like yesterday my pelican bones.
Ever just get on a bus or subway and just see where you are?
In the gulf if you swam way out it would take you too a shallow sandbar but in the going a dolphin might bump you, your leg tickled by a school of little fish, you might see a ray or scrunch up a sand dollar with your toes. Extraordinary but always different.
I actually like to read the things people type in and then hit my blog with, like the title of this piece... It feels random. It's exciting.
When you teach there are days that come, you never know them and can't plan them when a child has a twinkling in their eyes....connecting to something they did "all by themself " and you stand aside and share with them that moment. It is a beautiful fleeting thing. It isn't in the script. And it is wonder.
Watching is a random act, listening, creating, enjoying the day.
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