A Day With Julia

On the day before Thanksgiving, my youngest granddaughter came for a visit (Julia is the third from the left on my Thanksgiving blip). I was making bread for the family dinner, and she was more than ready to help. Actually, with my directions, she pretty much took over. When the dough became stiff from the added flour, Julia kept stirring with determined gusto. I took pictures. I also took pictures when, after one quick demonstration, she began to knead. Julia is almost eight, but rather small and slim. She definitely needed a chair as the kneading got more challenging. I stood behind, and as she leaned into her task, and kept the chair from sliding backward.

While the dough rested, we ate a small lunch of crackers with cheese and apple with peanut butter. Hot chocolate, too. Julia shared a little about her life. She spoke of a brother who was "a bull in a china shop", and of how she needed quiet time for reading and resting on her bed. She said she thought she was probably sensitive "like you, Nanny". She teared up a little as she spoke, and I spoke a little about the difficulties and values of sensitivity. That led to speaking of art and the part feelings play in the making of art.

We both perked up after that, deciding that once we put the loaves in the pans to rise, we would do some painting. My art table has plenty of space for sitting side by side. At first, we had pencils for drawing our ideas. Then we'd move on to paint. The paper was lovely, thick and absorbent, and I had a large box of Prang watercolors with marvelous and varied colors.

Julia went right to work on a meticulous drawing of a mermaid with a following of dolphins. I sat there, my mind as blank as the paper before me, which is why I decided to go for abstract....to simply enjoy the swoosh of bright wet color from brush to paper. Julia stopped to watch, exclaiming over the shape of the stroke and the blending of color. She asked for another piece of paper.

Julia is a orderly child in many ways. Her school work is superb and her consideration for others knows no bounds. She is obedient almost without question. She already knows the importance in this world of succeeding. Something happened when Julia began to paint with no plan. The critical eye was abandoned in favor of pure joy. After several effortless strokes, she looked at me with large luminous eyes and exclaimed. "Oh Nanny, I feel so free. I love you, Nanny."
The painting above is Julia's first abstract.

We kind of forgot the bread; it got a little dark. Who cares?