Life Is An Art

So I went to Home Depot looking for herbs and vegetables, and walked out with nothing. There was no cilantro, no turnip greens, and no decent specimens of flat-leaf parsley. Even the strawberries looked limp.  I have a small strawberry patch on the side of the house, and I wanted to expand it a bit, but no such luck. Winter squash seems to be available, right alongside the summer squash. I know that doesn’t make sense but this is, after all, Central Florida.

When the weather ignores the calendar and continues to creep into the 90’s, gardening has to remain on hold. I  have little control over body temperature, and a few minutes too many weeding vegetables will send me to bed and keep me there for two solid days.

On Thursday my mother-in-law and I had that rare perfect day where both of us felt pretty darn good and were able to make a number of stops before getting lunch. (I could write volumes about how lucky I have been these past 45 years, but let me sum it up in one sentence: I have the Best Mother-in-Law in the world.) One of those stops was at Lowe’s to check out their herbs and garden plants. What they had looked better - tomatoes, peppers, collards, romaine, and flat-leaf parsley - but there was still no cilantro worth buying, no turnip greens, and no strawberries whatsoever. I have some seeds I ordered, so I’ll go ahead and start those, but until I find some decent fruit and vegetables ready to plant, I’ll be spending my time indoors doing stuff.

Which brings me to my knitting. I’m pretty sure there is a small group of people in Russia who follow me here or on Pinterest because of my interest in knitting, especially socks and lace knitting patterns. To them I say “hold tight” for another day or three, I promise to get back to the fascinating topic of the Fish Lips Kiss Heel.

But today I want to tell you about one of my other favorite air conditioned activities, one that I recommend highly for those seeking tranquility while having to spend inordinate amounts of time sitting around the house.

Coloring books.  A favorite from my kindergarten days at P.S. 217 in Brooklyn. I was a little hyper and not well-socialized back then, to the despair of my teacher, but sit me down with a bunch of crayons and some construction paper, and I was entranced.  I always colored inside the lines, by the way. Still take pride in that accomplishment, along with graduating law school.

These days there are coloring books for adults, and I am hooked.  I blame/thank my former supervisor Raquel, who gifted me a cat coloring book and some colored pencils back in the early days of my banishment/retirement from the practice of law. Since then I’ve expanded my collection of supplies, including today’s delivery from Amazon.

I love color, especially as it presents in nature. I find the peace in my soul as I stare open-mouthed at a perfect flower, or a bright red cardinal, or a ladybug. And even though the monarch butterfly caterpillars consumed a great deal of the dill and basil in my garden, I forgave them because observing their rich colors was a fair exchange for the tzaziki sauce and Caprese salads that were never prepared.

So I color, in every medium I can get my hands on. I even have the 96 crayon box from Crayola, because I always wanted it as a kid. The best, most peaceful, tranquility-inducing medium remains the colored pencil, however. Practically hypnotic, endlessly relaxing. I might even add “therapeutic” to that list. The airy repetitive movements are so very soothing. You can start and stop how ever many pictures you want; no one will be grading you on your coloring completion skills or color realism.  This is truly for fun. In today’s world of harsh reality, economic upheaval, and mind-blowing political shenanigans, any fun we can find is precious.