I had to drop by one of my elementary schools yesterday to pick up some paint I needed in order to create a sample. On my way out of the building I found this little pinecone sitting on the sidewalk. When I saw it I wanted to draw it.
I picked it up and put it in my car. The pinecone went throughout the day with me, out of my car into my home. I kept thinking I'd come back to it. I didn't. I was completing other tasks like GIVE-ing my time to getting groceries and making dinner for my family and taking care of details for an impromptu art gallery showing for some of my top elementary students. The evening came to a close, and I thought, "Sorry little pinecone. I'll have to see to you tomorrow. And I will. I promise."
As I give to others, so I am given to. My life is abundant. This pinecone was my gift. Much like my neighbor's pine trees gifted their boughs in the ice storm for my holiday decorations, so this little pinecone broke up a very heavy day of giving of myself, by offering up its simple beauty to me.
I took the pinecone with me to school to teach today. I really expected to draw it in the morning before class started or on my break. I didn't. Instead there were classroom logistics I needed to see to. More GIVE-ing of me. My pinecone rode home from school with me in my emptied coffee mug.
When I arrived home, I went in and put my stuff down. Then I grabbed my pinecone, my sketching journal and a got a chair off our front porch. I put it in the sun which felt so good on the bare skin of my legs after a day of being tucked away into a classroom. I listened to my son and our neighbor playing basketball while I began to draw.
My youngest daughter came out to watch me for a bit. "I wouldn't have the patience to draw a pinecone," she said.
"I find it so relaxing," I said.
I knew that in my future was making dinner and my oldest daughter's first band concert and ice cream out to celebrate afterwards, but right now, there was my pinecone to see to.