Something strange happens to me when I enter a craft store. My fingertips begin to tingle. The air becomes light. My pulse quickens. Invisible pixies tug at my hair, pulling my attention here and there to assorted and colorful treasures.
Beads sparkle like bins of jewels.
Ribbons spool sunshine onto linoleum tiles.
Buttons beckon with upturned faces.
Bolts of fabric become the infantry of inspiration.
And yarns weave tales of texture, warmth, and seasons yet to pass.
Somewhere inside me stirs a sleeping goddess who believes knows that when equipped with just the right trinkets, tools, and bits of hocus pocus, something wondrous will occur. The sorcery of the craft store knows no limits. Her magic is all encompassing, seducing, and full of promise. Its siren song calls to me, for there exists not wax enough in all the world to stem this music to my eager ears, this longing to create. I am completely spellbound, enchanted by the trove of blissful possibilities.
Funny, I can’t remember now why I came in here. I think it was for scrapbooking supplies…
Today’s Gratitude List:
A new scrapbooking project to start
An ever-patient sweetheart who will accompany me anywhere
The time to ponder things, both big and small
“If you hear a voice within you say, ‘You cannot paint,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.” — Vincent van Gogh
