or 2025, I have chosen to venture down a new path. I have passed by the entrance to this path countless times over the years, too frightened to turn in. The skills needed to navigate such a trail are skills I am unsure I possess. The trailhead is thick with beginner bramble that instantly disorients and triggers doubt. Have I read enough books? Does my brain contain enough words? Should I go back to school? What is a dangling participle? How do you practice? How long do you practice for? Why on earth would anyone want to read what I write?
As I stand still, staring down this uncertain path, I remember that I have been here before, not with writing, but with illustration. The difference is I now know the type of commitment and dedication I will need to hike this unfamiliar trail, and that falling and failing is just part and parcel of trying something new. It is natural. It is how we, as humans, grow. With a belly full of butterflies, I put one foot in front of the other.
Photos taken while walking the trails of the Pennypack Ecological Restoration Trust.
ur heater quit yesterday. So, instead of sitting in a gelid house next to an inadequate space heater, worrying about the hiring and firing of a new furnace that cannot be installed till after the holidays, I packed a small bag with snacks and a book, grabbed my camera, and drove north to sit in front of a frozen Mauch Chunk Lake. The Sleeping Bear was majestic in its winter dress.
I have long held the desire to take brief periodic respite from life's daily toil, but I have never built the boundaries necessary to bring this about. After walking the misty trails and testing the solidity of Mauch Chunk's ice with a stone the size of a potato, I nestled into my warm car, chocolate chip bagel in hand, and read Fanny Britt's "Louis Undercover." As I read, I saw from the corner of my eye a weasel scurry across the lake's frozen crust. Why in the world wouldn't I make this more a part of my life?
or the past four years, I have been working around the clock, trying to dig out from underneath the workload I took on as the world became trapped beneath COVID. I was signed up to illustrate four picture books, the most I have ever had at one time. I was also up for tenure. Normally, all good things, but COVID buried us alive. We all went through it, so we all know what I am talking about. As I head into final art for the fourth and final book, as I finish crawling out from underneath the rock we were all trapped under, the air feels lighter, and the rain tastes sweeter than I remember.
ature is religion: While working on final art for my latest picture book (Mazie's Amazing Machines), I watched a few documentaries on Vincent Vangoh. What a tormented soul. Life is heavy for sensitive spirits who cannot build systems in their head to protect themselves. Like most famous creators of the past and present, Vincent found nature to be his religion. Nature is closer to the answer than we are, that is for sure.
