one thing that has surprised me, here, is how UN creative I feel these days. I thought for sure that moving to a tropical island would, I dunno, unleash some hugely creative something and I would be dying to paint or alter something or cut some serious lino, or write a great novel ... even a haiku would suffice.
I need to pray about that one. It is so strange.
Right now I am feeling more kinship with our Sonlight Core 5 stuff. The lapbooks we are making are coming along swimmingly; time flies when you're having fun! I wish I would have homeschooled using Sonlight! Wouldn't it be amazing to write for them? Maybe not ... that would be work, wouldn't it. Here is another excerpt I have to try and use, somehow, in my Learn to Write the Novel Way novel.
where is it? on the beach, near Ipperwash, Lake Huron, Ontario, Canada
when is it? mid-summer, 2007, July or early August, Sunday morning
who is present? my husband, my two boys, me. vacant beach other than whatever wildlife presented itself
what is happening? water lapping on the shore. occasional seagulls, butterflies basking in the sun. slow beach walking, swim play
I know it seems wrong to many, but we really needed to come here, to take a break and just re-learn how to breathe. This has been one of the hardest years of our lives; the most pain-filled summer I have ever known, yet I wouldn't change it for anything.
I love getting "away" even if it is just a drive down the road toward different scenery. I especially relish a trip to the beach. This day wasn't really any different from any others except we "should have" been at REAL church, or so they say. I think God understands why we needed to come. I may even go so far as to suggest that He invited us.
We all hiked down the side of the sand hill with increasingly accelerated steps, each one hoping their toes will be the first to touch the warm, glittering multitude of grains. I carried the drinks and snacks, my husband had the camera and some blankets while the boys simplified things, bringing only their towels and enthusiasm.
The vastness of the clear blue sky, complete with the whitest of cirrus clouds, seemed to further emphasize the wondrous expanse of water awaiting us. Many have tried to capture the simple beauty of a Great Lake but the result is always cheapened, somehow, though undertaken with the best of intentions. Like an air-brushed postcard of Niagara Falls "at night", or a howling wolf on an over-sized tee ... drinking in the vision before my eyes, alone, would have to suffice.
Even the simplest of sights do not go unnoticed on a trip to the beach. Butterflies seem brighter, water-washed pebbles illuminate as gold and precious gems, illusions of treasure discovered only by you. The perfect mixture of warmth and wind while our skin slowly deepens in colour, shedding its paleness of winter; a harbinger of long days and nights ahead.
There is something surreal in the listening ... only the familiar sounds of water, waves and whiling away time in the comforting company of family.
A critic of our "church" must be living with his eyes closed.