Saturday, January 24, 2009


My Grandmother adored violas. The tiny, bright little specks of purple and yellow popped up everywhere around her house. Years after she died her backyard was still littered with violas that had burst free of the bounds of the garden and wandered willy-nilly through the grass.

Maybe that's what she liked about them; that they did exactly as they pleased. She was, for many reasons, a woman who couldn't always do that herself. She was anchored by responsibility. By duty. By practical matters. And, later, by disability.

But the spirit of the carefree, wandering viola was inside her. I saw it in the mischief in her eyes, in her sly smiles, and in the ways she made the world beautiful by giving as much of herself as she could to the people she loved.

And so, for Grandma, a viola.

I know, I know, the centre should be yellow not white, but I think she'll forgive my creative license. She'll forgive me for colouring outside the lines.

I know she will.

January 24, 2009

I love you. I miss you.

1 comment:

stephanie said...

This is by far the best project ever. So awesome to see what you come up with each day, lady. And such lovely work. It would make a great art show at the end of it all...or picture book or something! Every day I think, oh, that's my favourite, and then you go and outdo yourself the next day. Really lovely this to make up for that handbag you were ashamed of (for no reason, I'll repeat.)