There is a magic, an “other-worldly-ness” that starts to descend upon this annual retreat. With Jean and I arriving a couple days early, the spell seems to begin early. Upon arrival, we know we need to move around the furniture of the living/dining space, to accommodate working space for five full time creatives. Now, can you guess what that involves?
The addition process starts. With adding one full size working table, one more narrow table, five table lamps (oh the electrician nightmare we create), a card table full of additional art materials and a full library of reference and completed journal books, we
have to take part in the . . .
The subtractions process. Removing the long coffee table to my bedroom (where we’ll stack more supplies), tucking the floor lamp into a remote corner and shuffling the remaining two dining tables and five chairs . . . we are left with eliminating the charming, space-consuming rocking chair from the cabin.
We mention this to the maintenance fellows, but it’s a weekend and they are busy. So, we baby-sit the lovely chair for two more nights. During the day guide her (yes, see she’s already taken on a gender here) outside to the sunny deck so we can maneuver around. And as the sun sets, we scoot her inside among the other furnishings to keep her from the cold and moisture. We become intimate with her, talking about her personality (clean, quiet, artistic
and patient) and soon she’s become our mascot. Jean is the first to immortalize her in her journal with an adorable frontal sketch in a corner. I too want to remember how much energy we’d showered upon this chair and her sketch begins to grow to nearly a whole page (remember I’m using this new 9×9 inch handmade journal book).
Of course, you can guess that now is when the guys come to take her away (well, we had requested it, right?). We find ourselves sad .
. . she’d become such a part of our daily routines already. Then, we began wondering where she’d gone. Is she under a deck? somewhere cold and damp? Is she stuffed into a storage space, scratching her warm, wood surface? Ok, now we’ve all become mother’s to the chair and we worry about her condition (I warned you ~ “other-worldly”).
A few days into the retreat, we are marching to the store for more toilet paper (you know how much toilet paper five women use?) and Jean spies our girl! Sigh . . . not only is she safe, warm and comfy, but she’s among her peers. Rocking to ‘n fro in the wide hallway between the restaurant and the bar she sits with two of her buddies. All us moms are at peace. Wouldn’t you be? Or is that just too “other-worldly”?
Stay tuned for the continuing spell as it weaves . . .