musings on art, walks with the dog, life as it happens
Monday, March 5, 2012
for a while our eldest son at the age of three, collected stones in his mouth; he would wander off into the garden, potter about and eventually return to me with a mischievous look in his eyes; ' spit it out,' was all I had to say and he had a small offering for me: a stone he placed in the palm of my hand straight from his mouth; I collected them, until one day he stopped. The stones rested in a mug, gathering dust and then one day, while working on a mosaic, I suddenly saw that they were meant to be stuck all together like a mosaic, and that is what i did, onto a bit of wood that was lying around. hi Grace , do you think this could be a cairn?