I have a thing for rocks.
Not shiny, sparkly rocks.
Not rocks that you wear on your fingers.
Just . . .rocks.
The plain, grey rocks you find near a river or by the ocean.
Rocks that fit in your hand.
Rocks that are smooth and rounded from years of rolling around in the water.
I love the way they look.
I love the weight of them.
I love the way they feel in your hand.
I love to stack them and lie them around on tables and fill jars with them.
As a young girl, I remember spending hours every day while I was on our beach vacations "rock hunting".
In fact I would spend so many hours, that I would see miles and miles of rocks when i closed my eyes to go to sleep.
On our recent trip to the beach I found myself walking at the water's edge looking for my idea of the perfect rock.
And I found some wonderful ones.
Flat surfaces, the perfect size and SMOOTH.
I later sat at my table, paint brushes in hand and I felt compelled to paint.
But rather than reaching for the canvases, I found the rocks in my hand.
Oh - just one, I thought.
A few timeless hours later . . .
|Words on one side, painted images on the other.|
|These are the perfect size to attach to a painting . . .stay tuned for a preview of those.|
|Or to add a magnet and adorn the refrigerator.|
There truly was something magical about painting these.
It reminded me of being a child and we would create murals with our beach treasures and paint the rocks we found.
I felt a strong connection to the earth while I held them and painted them.
I'm sure there will be many more of these in my future.