Summer is really not my season. Or I suppose I should say, Texas summer is not my season. Or climate. If we lived in Nova Scotia, I might well love summer best of all.
But down here in Houston, it’s hot. Summer is mostly about coping for me. Going out in the steamy, hot, mosquito-ridden out of doors as seldom as possible. Keeping the a/c set at 74.
And it’s rained a lot this summer. Great for plants. Less great for stir-crazy children.
We’ve had to get creative.
Like on the day my daughter realized that her piece of popcorn looked like a bug’s face. And so we got out the watercolors and painted it. And then we made a whole family of bugs-on-toothpicks and then stuck the toothpicks–why not?–in an apple core that was still on the cutting board. And then took photos.
Which all just reconfirms what I already know about art. And about life. That necessity is the mother of invention.