I’ve gotten a smidge past the middle point of my diamond painting. In real-life it looks pretty. It’s a real adventure trying to get a fairly clear photo of diamond paintings. The diamonds reflect light and can make it a mess of spotty bright spots. I’ll be happy to get it finished, framed and displayed on the wall. However, to me, it’s a bit monetish in that I need to step back from it to see its real beauty, which works out well for where I plan to hang it.
*(Monetish (moe-nay-ish) is not a real word. I made it up using the last name of Oscar-Claude Monet a French impressionist painter. I use to describe ‘something’ that one needs to step back to see ‘the something’ more clearly. A metaphor of sorts, I suppose.)
The weather has been absolutely lovely. It’s been mostly sunny and near 70°F. The daffodils in our area are blooming lovely. When we’re out for a drive, they’re like splashes of sunshine fallen to Earth, lined or splattered about the landscape.
I particularly love the fact that when the daffodils are in blooms you can look through the trees or across a field and see where the old homeplaces were. It’s quite a bittersweet view sometimes; to think once-upon-a-time a home stood amongst the trees or in the midst of a field. Perhaps it was a small place or a big place with a few children or oodles of children. Perhaps they danced around, picking daffodils and laughing as they discovered the yellow glow or pollen on their noses. I wonder how their lives progressed. I suspect it was much as it is today. I figure some of them grew out of their daffodil collecting days and scattered about the country making more dancing children and more homesteads. I wonder if any of them told their generations of offspring about the daffodils left behind. I wonder if their following generations ever appreciated that the daffodils are like a beautiful reminder of what once was.

Here’s wishing you all a wonderful rest of the week.
May your dancing with flowers days never end in your heart.