For being

With such sudden buckets of time on my hands, I might want to pick up my old tools again. Paint, beads and jewelry findings all wait on my art table in the living room. The sun still shines there. Last month when the world was young and the local art gallery was open and people congregated at sidewalk cafes, I needed to know there would be a payoff of some kind before I would commit to any art. In the face of an approaching global crisis, I was afraid that art was not only unnecessary but the least needed thing imaginable. Since then, through an imposed hermitage, I’ve come to realize there is a payoff to the smallest addition of beauty, such as the lone daffodil I saw this morning in an abandoned garden by the beach. Thanks for being here, I told it.