Sometimes we make plans and life scoffs at us, finds us humorous in our expectations. No doubt you have experienced this, too. A robust start to our school year was my plan the last time I wrote to you, but it was not meant to be. The week after we started school, we got quite sick and took the entire second week of school off. So much for a strong beginning.
While my kids started feeling those very first, niggling signs of illness, two other ominous things occurred. First, a hornworm came and gobbled up the leaves and every single ripening pepper on our pepper plant. Second, and worst of all, I killed my beloved and long-suffering sourdough starter.
The hornworm I found happily munching our poor plant down to the studs. I called my kids to come see and we felt that since he was hungry, fascinating to watch, beautiful, and had already left us with no peppers, we would let him eat his fill and hope he’d grace us with his transformation in our garden. It seemed like a fair trade. He totally demolished our plant, leaving us one leaf, and took his appetite and his transformation elsewhere.
How I killed my sourdough starter is a matter of conjecture. I can only assume that it overheated when I put it in the oven on the bread proof setting (an unusual move by me, but I’d forgotten to feed it at its usual time due to being flustered over my sick kids; the bread proof setting helps it rise faster and it has never caused me any issues before.) I can’t tell you how discouraging it was to gaze into that gray abyss of deflated slop that should have been alive and bubbling joyfully.
No time to worry too much about the peppers and bread; the sickness rapidly increased its fury and reach and soon laid all of us low — ravaging our health like the decimated pepper plant and leaving us as gray and languid as my starter. On the upside, I had the most fabulous fever dreams. I dreamed of colors, colors I’d never seen, colors I can’t remember; and I thought I’d learned the secrets of the universe, which to my dismay, I can also no longer remember. Yes, I was absolutely feverishly loopy. As things go, in due time, we were all restored to sanity, health, and normal body temperatures and this will be but a momentary blip in our remembrances.
Speaking of remembrances, do you remember that one leaf the hornworm left us? It was enough to revivify the whole pepper plant. It has acquired new leaves and is now once again sporting several growing little peppers.
That’s not the end of the good news. I keep a jar of dried active starter in case of a calamity. I’ve had it for over three years and never had cause to use it. A teaspoon of dried starter, some water, flour, and a few days patience was all I needed to recreate my starter — the dried flakes sprung right back to life. It is now thriving and healthy; shouts of “Fresh bread day!” once more ring through my active and bubbling home.
I have felt a little low in spirit since being sick. Perhaps it is the waning days of summer, which makes me glum every year. Though I know nature always revives herself, it is sad to watch her decline from her bright shimmering green summer glory.
But things that lay dormant come roaring back, and I know this. Everything moves in circles. Being sick or hurt always serves as a sort of wake up call to me. I remember that time is short and I have lots of things left to paint; I want to be better at my craft before I can’t paint or draw anymore. So, I started painting in earnest these last few weeks. I have posted most of these paintings to notes, but here are the first two, painted closely together:
And here are the last two, not painted too closely together:
Upon seeing these two paintings together and comparing them to the first two, it dawned on me how melancholy they look. My life has not been unhappy lately, but there has been an overarching sense of brooding, as if there is a storm cloud on the horizon. I think, unwittingly, this state of mind has creeped its way into my art, which I find absolutely fascinating and informative…I need to stop worrying about the things I cannot control. This can sometimes be a reason to create — to have complete control over the outcome of a thing. I know for a fact it has been the reason for me at times, but, I can say that creation has also been an expression of pure joy, an adventure, a quest, a seeking and a finding, an outpouring, and a giving. Whatever the motivation, I need to make time for it. Just making sketches more often has improved my skills and lightened my heart.
Our re-start of school is on track and we are busier than ever. The architecture course is proving to be a hit; and my kids can identify the types (or orders) of classical columns and we’ve explored how the Romans innovated Greek temple architecture by incorporating the arch. We’ve even peeked at some of the Renaissance architecture that was inspired by these ideas. We are still making art, too,
I hope (not unlike the Romans), by trying to turn more of my time and attention to making art, that I can build on my foundation of things I know to be good and beautiful and true; to improve upon them, to innovate them, to make them grander.
Thank you for checking out my scribbles and art, it means so much to have someone to share them with. I am reminded of myself through my children; as soon as they make something they bring it to me, because it is an absolutely human need to share what one creates. Thank you for letting me share with you. I hope the week ahead brings good and beautiful things your way!
-Jenn
P.S. All sketches are done in sharpie pen from life observation and all paintings are in acrylic paint. Landscapes are painted from my personal photos. Still lifes are painted from life. If you want to see more of my art it’s right here. It is my birthday month, so perhaps I will assault your inbox with a narcissistic post of self portraits through the years, if I find time to gather and photograph them. Here’s a bonus sneak peek at what’s currently on my easel and a picture and video of the hornworm:
Oh Jenn, I love your paintings! and this whole story. I know you've been going through a lot lately and I'm praying for peace. It sure can come through the creating or, as you say (and I agree) in creating to somewhat feel a sense of control in the uncontrollable. Also, those fever dreams! Oh I've had them and wrote quite a dramatic piece off of one. It's crazy how that happens. And that little monkey hornworm! ugh! So glad your pepper plant came back. Love how you tied all of the life experiences around you and inside of you with nature and your bread starter! Glad that worked out too. Sending you a big hug. ox
I love your sketches. Thanks for these warm little entries.