Her hand holds a pencil, a paint brush, a tool, a piece of grass, leaves, paper, egg shells, fabric, paints, broken pieces of something, beads, string, yarn, branches, mud, earth - anything she can harvest, collect, or gather. She looks around her — watching. She is thinking - thinking of a plan.
She will strip the tender bark off privet and weave it into a basket. She will take the stringy pieces from a dying palm branch and braid it into long strands of twine.
She will crush rocks for colors, boil mango skins with onion peels for a certain paint hue.
She sees color combinations with colors I do not even see.
She asks questions at the living history ranch - How do you make the bead designs?” Weeks later, she disappears into her bedroom and returns with pieces of paint brush, scissors, a ruler and an egg collecting basket fashioned into a loom and shows us her bead work.
She weaves beauty, nature and art into her world. As she grows, her ideas and creations are more intricate, delicate, strong, solid, colorful, detailed, brave, and curious. She fails and tries again or finds something more imaginative and challenging.
She has great patience waiting for the world around her to gift her with pieces of itself to mold and move and shape and weave. She stores pieces until the ideas fall into place. She is aware of what each season will offer and is ready when it arrives.
She takes notes, keeps track, shares her ideas with her sweet friends, and provides her community with pieces of her world so they can join her in the adventure. She snaps shots of her work to send to friends so they can have a chance to try, to create, or to discuss.
Her pace is pleasant. She doesn’t demand. She gets frustrated - but she breaks through to the other side. Sometimes nature doesn’t cooperate and messes up her work, but she just begins again and usually is better for it.
This is our Amelia.