Rainy Day Frolics
What do we do when the raindrops fall?
Beginning A New Day
Since dawn, a curtain of raindrops has been streaking my bedroom window. I wanted to tuck my head under my pillows like an ostrich, but restlessness has overtaken me.
My daughter was restless, too. Giggling, she tugged at my fleece pajamas with Snoopy chasing snowflakes all over them, invoking my motherly penchant toward feeding my young because she was hungry. I asked her if she would scramble the eggs for me and she readily agreed.
"How many?" she inquired.
"Four," I replied.
She dressed, cracked, and whisked. I dressed and grated cheddar cheese to add to the eggs as I scrambled them, then started cooking the bacon.
Dancing in the Rain
Fun in the Fresh Air
After eating our breakfast and writing, she was ready to jump in puddles. After my second cup of coffee, I was ready to join her. The oil rainbows in some of the puddles swirled like the stars in a van Gogh painting. They reminded us of our promise to ourselves to spend time water-coloring together. Racing home, we eagerly gathered our painting supplies. She found the paper and paints, and filled a cup with water, while I warmed cider and sprinkled cinnamon on it. Then we set to work.
Art Imitating Life
She asked me if we could add coffee to our pictures and I agreed. She had fun brushing the brown liquid on her picture. Then we shared a piece of bread dipped in my cream-softened cup of joe, just like van Gogh did in Arles. Our art would not be the same without bread dipped in coffee.
While our paintings dried, we curled up on the couch to read to each other, dulcimer music lightening the grayness of the day. The raindrops on the window increased, and the mix of watery curtain and view on the other side seemed like a natural water-color painting. My daughter ran to the table, took out more paper, and attempted to paint what she saw there.
"Do you think the coffee is a good color for the trees?" she asked.
"Go ahead and try it." I encouraged her to run with her idea. Meanwhile, I tinkered with my own coffee-dowsed paintbrush. The bristles danced in time with the music, like a mop belonging to Micky Mouse as The Sorcerer's Apprentice .
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© 2011 Karen Szklany Gault
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