The hill/mountain shape has been showing up a lot lately. In cloth, doodles, and painting. What do they mean? There's a harmony to them, a place for balancing things. Edges of unknown, with mysteries beyond. Thinking of childhood stories, Besty and Tacy Go Over the Big Hill, and fairy tales with magical creatures who live in hidden openings of hillside caves, or where the hero must get over a rise, or three, sometimes through peaks of fire and ice.
Around kindergarten age, we lived in the countryside, on a hill. There was a rise in front of our house where I learned to ride the purple bike (after landing in the blackberry bushes on the side), and had a dream that was so real that I'm still not sure it didn't happen . . .
A big group of us, all children, were running down the hill, in the middle of the gravel road. We were running so fast and free, laughing, arms waving, that suddenly my feet lifted off the ground and I was carried by the momentum of the rush of our feet and delight . . . floating, flying, in the middle of friends, to the bottom of our hill.
I can still remember that feeling, of being carried by wind and joy.
"Anything can happen on a pink hill", "Rainbow's memory" and "The sky twinkled rainbows & petals" are in the shop today.
I hope your day is filled with memories of flight and laughter.
