Thunder threatened this afternoon, but just a few fat drops of rain fell, and it was still quite warm. I spent the day helping children make wire sculptures. Amazing, some kids, even though they might never have worked with wire and pliers before, they just run with the idea, and end up producing these beautiful creatures. Whereas others are constantly demanding attention and aid in forming their animal or figure, they haven't a clue, and are too scared or lazy to try for too long. The hours just flew by today, and the children couldn't believe it when I told them to pack up and clean up. When I left this evening there were several exquisite new inhabitants of my art room, jellyfish, a seahorse, two elephants, several horses (11-year old girls and their obsession), a pig, a bear, a tall and dainty giraffe, and a whole table full of miniature people in motion, jumping, pirouetting, fencing, playing basketball, dancing.
When I walk in the door on Monday and Tuesday evenings, there is a black dog barking excitedly and an emaciated 20-year old cat standing expectantly near the door, miaowing at me. I have to put all my bags down and kneel on the floor and pet and stroke them both for at least 5 minutes. The dog's eyes go soft, and the cat nearly keels over with the ecstasy of it all. It is as if no one else ever loves them or strokes them or pays them any attention, they are starved for this affection. "Where have you been all day?" they imply. If dogs and cats could grin, their faces would each be plastered with one.
Standing outside waiting for Molly, late, in the dark night filled with stars, I hear the shift of trees and creatures moving softly in the still air. The big green frogs and the little spring peepers are trilling at the pond, and a bird sings a short whistle-song in its sleep. Something like an opossum or a raccoon waddles away in the darkness.
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