Seasons of Creation

Dearest reader,

The act of creation itself can be a soothing experience and lends a sense of accomplishment to the creator. Whether it is a project for oneself or a gift for a friend, the completion waves a triumphant fist at a life that is often unpredictable and stressful. It has roots in the foundation of civilization and branches forward toward innovation. Though mode and mean may vary, acts of creation transcend culture and border. They display differences and bind us together as the human race. With so much variety to choose from it is hard to pick only one. For myself, it changes with the season.

In winter months I gravitate toward yarn craft. Crocheting thick blankets and warm hats while watching Pride and Prejudice, the six-hour BBC version…both of them actually. In December, when the holiday cheer is thickest, I create a few ornaments and décor to add to my collection. Stringing garlands and lights around the wreath that I’ll hang on the door as the smell of baked goods permeates my apartment, and the really cheesy holiday movies play in the background. January hits and after the decorations are put away the time comes to try new things. Hot coca is still a staple in the freezing temperature as I prick my fingers in my latest attempt at embroidery. I confess myself a novice. February hits and the race has begun to finish the half-made blankets before the season officially ends.

Spring is a time for mess. A bowl of fresh fruit lays on the counter ready to serve as fuel for an energetic mind. Paints litter my work space, making war with containers of odds and bobs as they jockey for space. Electro swing plays in the background, the jazzy beat adds to the chaos of the canvas. When dried it will join abstract brothers on my wall. Each an explosion of color. Glue and mod-podge make an appearance as beadwork, ribbon and various other objects make their way onto the canvas. These are the crafts that dominate spring.

Summer, how I loathe it. Though the heat does serve a purpose. In the early months of summer, the heat is perfect for curing resin coated coasters, the windows wide open to vent the fumes. July is rampant with thunderstorms, heralding the time to retreat to rainy day crafts, an adult coloring book for example. August hits and it’s time for outdoor work. 80’s Rock blares from a portable speaker as on the cramped space of my balcony I refurbish furniture. The air, though hot and oppressive to me, is perfect for drying stain. The work must be completed before the fall, when the rain begins again.

Fall, a season that marks the beginning of the holidays. When the air is laden with spices and the leaves change color, I find my thoughts turn toward culinary exploits. With many feast days ahead the excuse for all our friends to congregate presents itself. With assorted dietary restrictions, finding a dish we can all eat becomes an exercise in creativity. Evenings are spent with far away friends in the digital world of Minecraft, where we design and construct large cities while burrowed under blankets. A large steaming cup of apple cider on the table, while two cats curl contentedly on me. Good food and great company, this is what marks Autumn.

At last dear reader we have come full circle. However, I have a confession. I have spun a little yarn. While all that came before is true, there was an omission. I have led you to believe that there is no one act of creation that holds sway in my heart. It haunts my steps throughout the seasons. It whispers in winter, runs amok in spring, wages a spirited assault in summer and flutters in the fall. Stories and worlds consume my thoughts no matter the season. The act of writing becomes the ultimate escape from the drudgery, distress and despair that life sometimes presents. It highlights the humorous, auspicious and jubilant moments. Transmuting words into imagery and emotion, building worlds out of nothingness is my fondest love. Words ignite a passion in me for their beauty and their power. They have spun songs (including that annoying commercial jingle), documented history, transcribed secrets onto paper. Words are thoughts given permeance. For better or worse, they illicit emotion, provoke thought and spark inspiration. For these reasons, and all the ones I cannot name, writing becomes my ultimate release. Inspired and brought to you by life, I give you, words.

May your muse be ever at your back,

The writer