A 61 day creative practice - ICAD Day 1

 

I knew I had been saving those Index cards for a good reason - if only I could remember where I'd 'safely' stored them! 

Sometimes we need a prompt to kick start our creativity or remind us that it's a simple practice that needn't take much effort, expensive supplies or be something worthy of an art gallery!

The nudge that came from the Universe (or rather my friend Marie Goodwyn) was ICAD! An Index Card a Day throughout June and July - nothing fancy and entirely up to the individual what they create. 

Now here was an opportunity to get stuck in and sticky, to pull out all those scraps of paper, threads, feathers, buttons and bows and put them .... well, somewhere else! Yes, no need to throw anything away that has been gathering dust for years - just repurpose into art!

So, for the past couple of weeks I have been doing just that. I thought it might be fun to push myself with random prompts garnered from opening the first book that came to hand that day and finding a word or phrase to give me pause for thought and open my creative mind.

Day 1 - Timeless Texture. 

I confess not much thought went into this. I even found a somewhat obvious image of a clock. I think I was just too excited to start. First to be grabbed was some sandpaper which led eventually to glitter. Now that is timeless. Who doesn't love a bright shiny thing? Is ICAD a bright shiny? Will it continue to fascinate for the next 61 days? Now that is the question!

Nature's lessons

If I didn't have dogs there's no way I would be out in cold, damp early mornings or the dark chill of a winter's afternoon.

I would be hunkered down in the warmth and probably not even particularly interested in what was going on outside of the window.

But now though you'll find me wrapped in layers, trudging through the mud and putting up with the icicles forming on the end of my nose.

As well as the obvious enjoyment of being out with my pups and revelling in their joy at being alive, I have come to develop a renewed appreciation of all that Mother Nature offers us, whatever the season.

Having previously dismissed winter as providing little in the way of natural interest unless Mr Jack Frost had been out waving his frozen fingers of magic across the landscape or we'd had a dump of fresh snow, I have learned to notice and appreciate the little nuances as we make our slow shift through the seasons.

Take yesterday for example, I spotted this thick covering of lichen on an oak branch. The colours and textures striking brightly against the foggy backdrop. It set me exploring - a mini adventure among the boughs as I hunted for more to be captured by my camera.

There are always a few brown leaves hanging around at this time of year - reluctant to drop to earth and become mush and mulch. I admire their audacity to rebel against everything that the season throws at them, clinging on through wind, rain and frozen temperatures as if they feel the need to retain their owner's identity - to shout out - "look at me - I'm an oak tree!"

Look closer and you'll find all manner of textural treats and shapes on something as simple as a leaf. Tiny holes with which to peek through or small galls. Every leaf seems to have its own story to tell just as each walk proves to be a new adventure. 

Where will you go today?

Strange things are happening to me

 It's still dark outside, though the first fingers of dawn are tapping at the curtains. I am awake. Again.

The now all too familiar tingle has begun to work its way through my body, a body that is no longer my own. I am possessed. The person I was is disappearing at a rate that scares me. Change fires up my neurons. "Take action" my brain yells. "Stop this thing." But I know I can't. Perhaps it is possible to slow it down, but I don't know how. The alien that is inside me saps my energy to move let alone fight. I am befuddled and frightened. 

I sink beneath the warmth of the duvet to seek comfort in sleep but it does not come to my aid.

Eventually I drag my weary body to the surface and begin my day. I creak. The pain in my joints slowly dissipates but never all the way. It lingers, reminding me it is there. It began in my hips but now my knees, shoulders and elbows have joined in. They throb. Just a few weeks ago I was leaping out of bed to exercise but now this malaise has united with the long-present mood swings, grey hairs and erratic periods.

The name of my foe is Peri-Menopause. This latest attack on my joints has come seemingly out of the blue. It wakes me at night and drags at me throughout the day. Mentally I still feel 30, but sadly my body is feeling every one of my 50 years.

Please tell me it gets better!

Muddy Paws the Great Dog Detective – the ear-y case of the missing Wednesday treats

A bit of fun - a bedtime story I wrote for my pups!

Muddy stretched his paws and arched his back easing out the knots of the day. It had been a busy one with a lost poodle found safely – silly girl had gotten herself locked in a shed after hiding from a cat. Seriously! He’d taken the trouble to see the cat off personally, it would be a while before it dared show its feline face in Daisy’s garden again – all part of the service and rather fun with it!

He was readying himself for a nap when a sharp bark announced a visitor to his detective establishment.

He cocked his ears in recognition. Why, if it wasn’t his good friend Molly! He was rather fond of this particular Golden Retriever. He had to admit that her locks and looks were rather compelling, but she was also pretty adorable in most ways. He was a bit smitten! He greeted her with a sniff and some serious tail wagging.

“How can I help you my dear Mollster?” he enquired with a cock of his head. “Or is this merely a social call?” Muddy rather hoped it was the latter. A snooze by the fire with Molly by his side would be most agreeable.

“Somebody keeps stealing my pigs’ ears!” announced his friend. “Every time my humans open the cupboard on Wednesdays…. That’s pigs ear day….. They have mysteriously disappeared!”

Muddy was shocked to the tip of his tail. This was most serious. The theft of a dog’s treat was not to be taken lightly – particularly if this was turning out to be a regular horror. He resolved to take the case immediately. “Leave it with me,” he declared. “I will give it my immediate attention.”

In fact, Muddy had a sneaking suspicion he knew who the culprit was and, picking up a bone to chew over the problem, he retreated to his favourite patch of floor by the fireplace to think things through while Molly headed home.

It was a source of constant surprise to Muddy how much the simple act of gnawing on a bone could help his cognitive process.

After giving his teeth and appetite a whet, Muddy pulled himself up to his not inconsiderable height – he was after all a quarter Great Dane and, putting his best paw forward (that would be front left), he headed out the door on the trail of the thieving culprit.

Following the delectable scent left by the deliciously delightful Molly he headed over to the abode she shared with her humans, canine brother in mischief, Gunner – a somewhat exuberant and rather well-built German Shepherd and a member of the lesser species known as cat.

Gunner greeted Muddy with his usual noise and enthusiasm. Muddy gave him a hard stare that knocked some of that out of him.

“What? Why?” stammered the big beast. Muddy looked deeply into the Shepherd’s brown eyes and slowly said two words. “Pigs ears”. He was testing the waters to see if his suspicions were well-founded. Gunner reacted not with the guilt that Muddy was expecting, instead his face reflecting the same level of consternation as his sister.

“Have you found who stole our pigs’ ears?” Gunner whimpered. Muddy immediately realized his mistake. In his rush to impress Molly, he had forgotten the first rule of detective work – gather all the available facts! He has failed to ask that all important question around if Molly herself had questioned her brother. Clearly, given the look of innocence on his whiskers, he was another victim of the dastardly thief. Muddy was back to the drawing board without so much as a pencil to scribble a theory!

All this consternation he kept to himself though. Instead, he merely sniffed the air to give the indication that he was about important detective business and followed his nose to the treat cupboard where there was alarming scent of cat lurking about. Could he have found the culprit now?

The fiend herself chose that moment to slink through the cat flap. She gave Muddy a look of disdain before beating a hasty retreat to the counter top and hissing at him. Muddy sighed. When would cats learn that they were the inferior species and should be neither seen nor heard? He took a risk and sniffed her, receiving a swipe to his nose in the process. Other than the pervading feline odour which was enough to put any self-respecting dog off his dinner, there was nothing porcine about her. Plus given her size, he did wonder at her capacity to devour one piggies ear, let alone two. Another dead end. This case was turning out to be most troublesome.

At that moment, one of the humans arrived home. As is tradition in the world of woof, much excitement was required to be demonstrated together with a chorus of questions as to why the four-legged members of the household had been abandoned for weeks, months or was it just a few hours? Muddy hid under the table – his presence in the house may have required some explanation which dogs struggle to communicate to their humans, them not yet aware that dogs have careers, let alone ones as detectives. Within a few minutes though the mayhem had eased down a decibel or two and Muddy was able to assess the situation from the shadows. His hound’s nose had detected something rather important that was lurking at the bottom of a shopping bag. Mixed with the scents of tripe, liver and marrowbone was the unmistakable odour of pig! A new supply of ears had arrived. This would be the perfect opportunity to catch the thief in action! He settled down to watch and wait. Fortunately for Muddy it was Wednesday and not Thursday or that could have been a long and hungry stake out!

The female human busied herself in the kitchen. Muddy did not take his eyes off her. A quantity of meat that set Muddy’s saliva glands drooling found a home in the freezer with a tempting pile also left out to reach room temperature. Muddy was glad he was such a trustworthy dog, or he’d be needing to investigate himself for theft! He studiously ignored the gourmet meal defrosting in front of his fangs and refocused his attention on the human. She opened the treat cupboard and in went the bones…

Muddy was vaguely aware of the sound of an engine approaching but failed to realise the significance of the noise until both Molly and Gunner erupted in a further cacophony of barking and bemoaning their abandonment. Poor Muddy’s hit head the underside of the table as he leapt in shock. By the time he had regained his composure and the stars circling his ears had retreated back to the sky, the shopping had all been unpacked and both humans were staring at the picture box in the corner of the room with dogs draped over them in supplicated joy. An ideal time for a thief to strike thought Muddy. He began his stakeout in earnest. The culprit would be caught and held to account – Muddy was determined and when he was in this frame of mind nothing would get in his way!

“Did you give the dogs their pig ears?” asked the male human of the female. “No, I just put them away” she replied. “I actually forgot it was Wednesday!” The man moaned a bit then creaked his body into a standing position and shuffled into the kitchen in the direction of the cupboard. Muddy was confident that all would be well. This week at least Molly and Gunner would be chewing happily on the greasy gristle.

However, Muddy could not have been more wrong! The human was rummaging in the cupboard for far too long. He pulled out biscuits and bones and even food for the cat. Muddy couldn’t believe his whiskers. The pigs ears had gone again – and right under his nose! It couldn’t be happening! His reputation would be in tatters. Not only had he failed to apprehend the criminal but had allowed them to strike while he was on duty. He was so flabbergasted that he forgot his stealth mission and broke cover much to the confusion of the humans who had never met a dog detective before, let alone one of Muddy’s standing and size.

Of course, a situation such as this required a great deal of barking and it took a while for the humans to realise that Muddy was friend rather than foe. Thankfully Molly’s wagging tail helped eventually convince them of this fact; that and the fact that Gunner was sucking his bear and not the life out of Muddy. Just to be on the safe side, Muddy also employed his big soft-eyed look and rolled over on his back presenting his ample belly for a tickle. In fact, this tactic was so successful that it resulted in the somewhat surprising solving of the case and, more importantly, something rather delicious for Muddy.

The female human was so taken by Muddy’s behaviour that she offered to fetch him a pig’s ear! Seems that she had discovered something of a glut of them in the house. Unbeknown to anyone else in the family, she had – for reasons which are the sole preserve of the female human species and remain a mystery to both dogs and men alike – CHANGED THE PLACE WHERE THE PIGS EARS WERE KEPT! And worse, she had put them inside an airtight container thus hiding both sight and smell of the Wednesday treats. There was no and never had been a thief!

For some time after there was no sound in the house but the contented chewing of three large ears. Shortly after that, Muddy’s humans appeared at the door having been summoned by calling his office number (worn proudly on his collar). He bade his farewells to his hosts promising to keep an eye out for his pals in the park over the coming days when they could relive the tale and taste of the adventure!

As he settled into the warm and slightly smelly comfort of his bed that night, Muddy reflected on the day and the mysterious behaviour of humans. Frankly he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to put a pig’s ear anywhere other than in a dog’s mouth in the first place but his was not to reason why! He gave a big yawn and a sleepy wag of his tail, rested his head on his tatty stuffed bear – called Sherlock naturally – and fell fast asleep!

The End.

 

Say what?

 Three years since I last blogged? Surely not!

Seems I fell through the space and time continuum because I would have said no more than 18 months tops. But then again, this lack of time awareness is rather commonplace these days. I blame turning 50 earlier this year. I'm in denial.

That's another matter that needs addressing. Where did that half century sneak up from? I certainly don't conform to my view of what a middle-aged woman looked like when I stared ahead into the future 30 years ago! 

No frumpy clothes and Woman's Weekly for me - who cares if I look like mutton dressed as lamb (I don't think I do - just to be clear.... but even if I did - if it makes me happy then why not!).

I have taken myself away to perform the proverbial 'finding of oneself'. It is the time of the Corona and with another lockdown looming, I have escaped from the temptations of housework, gym and grocery shopping to lock myself away to write and let a bit of creative flow loose.

It's amazing what a troublesome companion Procrastination can be. She whispers in your ear to check your emails, log on to a game on your phone, scroll through your Instagram feed, put some washing on... anything but actually tackle the elephant in the room - the one sitting on the keyboard getting in the way! I used to be able to just sit down and write but good habits are easily broken and this putting fingers to keyboard for pleasure has become a whole lot harder than it used to be.

Of course, not all distractions from writing are bad. On the contrary, family time, doggie walks and exercising are a tonic in and of themselves.

However, writing used to bring such joy - mixed in with a bit of art making and I was a happy lass. Does playing time-wasting games on my phone provide the same pleasure? Not a jot. Is it easier. Well of course. Writing has become the route less-travelled. It is full of tangled weeds that need to be hacked through and I am here armed with machete - albeit a trifle tentatively at the moment.

Let's see what happens!

Was it me? It was wasn't it? Surely it must be...

This happens to me a lot and I know I'm not alone in this ridiculous belief.

Imagine the scene, you're reading a friend's social media post (because frankly that's how most of us communicate with friends these days), or you're actually talking in person. They talk about how they had been let down by someone and, like a flick of the switch in the self-deprecating part of our psyche, your immediate reaction is "Was it me? Oh, no... it was me wasn't it... I've forgotten to do something... It must be me".

And, even after a swift sift through your recent interactions you cannot for the life of you remember committing to anything, it remains like a solid heffalump of woozelness squashing your sense of self-worth and convincing of the shocking nature of your interpersonal skills.

You leave the post convinced you are a terrible person. After all, not only have you omitted from helping a friend in need but you've completely emptied your memory of offering to do so in the first place. Seriously what kind of friend are you?

You pen a quick note in panic, begging for forgiveness and offering to make up all ills whilst your subconscious bangs her head against the desk and calls you a total idiot and tries to suggest that the only person you've let down is actually yourself!

A break in ordinary service

In certain sections of society it's just fine and dandy to drop your 'aitches. If my keyboard had a broken H then my writing might stand up to scrutiny and I might never have gone down a thought process so packed with depth and meaning. However, since it's missing another key then I am forced to exist without 'ove and 'aughter. I can't even write my own name. I have become isa. This author isa what? Now there hangs the question.

I jotted down a substantive set of descriptives in my notebook focusing on my very existence. What am I?

It wasn't the type of reading that at first packed a punch of joy. I appeared doused with doubt, but I guess that's to be expected as I anticipate the next steps in my career. I must never forget though that I am an Artist, a Writer and a Creative. These aspects of me exist deep within my psyche. Yet, I know that I am too a prize procrastinator. I absorb distraction as I miss the meaty tasks of the average workday. I require a new job, a set of instructions but with the chance to be proactive, to expand and venture into the new, to experiment and push, to grab at opportunity and stretch my wings once again.

I have much to offer. Come take it!

With the few exceptions that I used to bring attention to the missing key, I have forced my brain to write without using the missing 'thing', digging into my thesaurus memory banks. It's been instructive and a somewhat fun exercise. I suggest you give it a try sometime! It's quite the task.