So, after a lifetime spent toiling away with words and music, I stumbled down the rabbit hole and found a new hobby – making small, shiny mirror frames.
For some reason, I find such joy in creating them. Each time I look, a new color pops, or the frames take on the time of day – depending on the ambience of the room.
I’ve tried many different forms of arts and crafts over the years, all abandoned half-way (not counting the ever-present words and music). I have a painting that I did at the age of eight, that has the sky and sea, and a perfect triangle sail and boat shape that was never painted in. Paint-by-numbers were no different. Needlepoint brought out cries of pain whenever I stabbed my finger unexpectedly with the needle; sewing clothing didn’t work because I couldn’t reverse the pattern and fabric (in my brain) and had to rip out almost everything that passed under the sewing machine’s footer. (If you don’t know, it’s very frustrating to discover that you’ve sewn the left sleeve to the right side of the garment.) Jewelry making came and went, but the mirrors seem to be here to stay. I’ve made more than 50, so far.
I’m supposed to be promoting my novel, The Eclipse of Mrs. Moon, and yet I’d rather sit at my craft table and dream of new designs.
It seems that I’ve finally found a comfortable seat in the house of artistic expression, where I can fill the off hours, those that aren’t filled with poems, novels, songwriting, and other various flights of imagination. Perhaps the mirrors are an anchor for me. After all, they weigh about two pounds apiece.