The chilly weather that has driven me to roll over that extra time each morning of late continues this week. Still, something has begun to tingle in my veins, telling me that change is coming.
Maybe it is all the happy chattering of birds. Maybe the deep blue lupin growing beside the road on my short walks around the canyon?
Perhaps that the film awards season finally seems to have drawn to a close with the awarding of Oscars? Or could it be the increased interest in art classes evidenced at Sawdust Art Festival's Spring Into Art and Sawdust Studio Art Classes?
Was it the fun time had on Sunday with a group of art junkies at the workshop Suzette Rosenthal and I led? So many possibilities exist for this surge inside me.
Peeling at the smidgens of acrylic gel that still cling in odd places on hands and forearms, I think the surge must have to do not only with springtime, but with rising creative energy. Myriad projects have been floating through my deep dreams lately, and I yearn to find the time to attack some of these "whispers" of longing.
While I know the fallow time of winter is a good thing in many ways, it is always in these moments before fallow time is over and the burgeoning blossoms of spring show themselves that the whispers begin. Soon they will shift to full voice, and before I know it, the yelling will begin. Why is it that I can hardly wait?
First of all, it is not as if I am not being creative at all during this time. I have been gifted with many opportunities to learn new things over the last few months that I have been managing the Sawdust Studio Art Classes program. I think the problem lies in that since I merely whisk in and out of the classes, it feels as if I am only dabbling … and I suppose that, in fact, I am.