As most of you know, in addition to writing memoirs, novels, short stories, poems, and pretty much every thought that comes into my head …
… I also love to create with paint, textiles, and anything else I can get my hands on—including mirrors.
About six months ago, I found this mirror in the fourth-floor elevator lobby. Gang, it was HU-YUGE! And a little chipped. I promptly stored it in my bedroom/artist loft. Then I let it marinate in my thoughts. I mean, it wasn’t going anywhere. I saw it everyday in the bedroom, when I woke, when I went to sleep.
Ceridwen, my muse, was taking her good time to give me something to paint on it.
Then, one day after work, I took a back way home, ‘cuz the main drive was clogged up with construction. And I saw this gorgeous scene …
…which ended up not being the finished painting. I think I have plans when I start a painting. Nope. Ceridwen has plans.
I finished the first two passes on the painting and was about to add more, when Pam (the closest I’m ever getting to Ceridwen in the flesh) said, “Oh, I love that scene. You’re done, right?”
Heh-heh. Yep. I was done. I’d planned it that way all along, folks.
When my daughter, Cesara, visited two months later, she, too, approved of the work as is. I do not gainsay the muses.
I still don’t have a title. Any suggestions?
Um, title choice is obvious: My Misty Mountains.