I've been a crafts person for as long as I can remember. It is a need. Much like needing oxygen. Without creative endeavors it is as if oxygen has been removed from a room.
Memories from childhood seem to be strongly connected to creativity or color.
In first grade, I remember coloring a blue fruit bowl. I arranged the fruit in the blue compote dish so that grapes were draped over the side of the bowl. It must have been an unusual thing for a first grade drawing, because I recall my teacher, Mrs. Ellis, becoming a motivator for my creative efforts.
My very early memories occur just after I turned two years old. I recall picking yellow buttercups from beside our driveway. I recall a bush dotted with yellow blooms just outside the bedroom window. I recall picking a yellow dandelion for my dying grandmother. It was an important color to a 2 year old, I think.
It is curious that I have so many memories from such an early age. There are around fifty memories I can place back to that time. Memories of snow globes, plastic reindeer on a table, a gift of a red plastic purse and a doll so tall that we could look each other in the eye, since we were the same height. I remember my grandmother laughing, when I thought a group of serenading folks were terrorizing me. It was that terror that a two year old has when people dressed in costume, show up at the front door. Every kid just knows that something is not right about that sort of thing. My grandmother passed away about six months after that, but I still recall her laughter. That was almost half a century ago. Our family was building a new home and I recall being lifted to stand on the foundation of the house without walls and looking down at the sub-flooring. The wood was laid down on a diagonal. I remember seeing the planks in that design. It is curious that it is a memory a two year files for all time. I imagine it must have been that I was observing patterns and colors at that age, because the creative artist was already budding within. I do remember flipping over on my tricycle while riding it in the kitchen. I was wearing one of those plastic headbands with the teeth. Apparently I must have landed head first, because my mother could see the blood coming from little holes in my scalp, which were spaced the exact distance of those little teeth from the headband. I also remember riding a ski-lift in the Smokie Mountains. I think my Mother was afraid my Daddy would not hold on to me well enough as we hopped into the seat, because I vaguely recall wondering if she knew something I didn't. We went to Silver Dollar City, high on the mountain. It was a western town. It had been a lovely place to visit and sit on on the bench and munch popcorn. It was at least, up until the eruption of the gun battle and men began falling from rooftops. At that age, I did not realize it was a wild west show and felt the danger of the moment. Nothing ruins your popcorn like men falling from a roof.
I won't go on with the memories of a two year old. I only mention them to say that I feel these memories were part of the creative spirit that was forming within me.
I am always fascinated to hear of other people with memories that go back to their toddler years.
Having that creative desire, is what I believe is a Gift from God. I am thankful for the joy I find in that gift.
It feels a little like a miracle to me. I have been able to draw all my life, without lessons. I don't know how I am able to draw, except that it was endowed by the Creator, as He shares His own joy in creating, through allowing us to have those joys too.
I hope to post pictures of some of those creative pursuits. My most recent creative fun, has been teaching myself to design fabric and uploading those designs to Spoonflower. Hope to post some of the fabric samples too.
So let's see if this is the one and only blog I ever accomplish.........................but here it is, for better or worse.