Signs of an Art Deco Child

When children find a full roll of butcher block paper…

When they wake up about two hours before you do…

When the art cabinet is in the kitchen…

When you find pieces of tape, paper, and markers…

When you find works of art displayed on their bedroom door…

Well then…

You just might have an art deco child…or two.

And maybe, it’s not the definition for “art deco” in your home. But it is certainly the definition and style of ours.

The girls erected this sign for their door.
© Angelia's Photography 2013

Impressive isn’t it? See the girls decided their bedroom door needed a sign. The first sign said Bri’s Room. And since Molly and Bridget share a room? Well….Molly was not so happy about that.

So, she made her own sign which, of course, included her sister. Because she is sweet correct like that.

Now you might see a sign for the bedroom door, or you might see a work of art, or maybe you see a few stories or two.

Whatever you might see….

© Angelia's Photography 2013

You have to give them an A for vocabulary and points for the extra notations. Those embellishes just make it so much more…

© Angelia's Photography 2013

I’m sure there will be more signs before the butcher block paper meets its end.

Until then, we will continue to look in wonder at a child’s art deco display.

Silly girls.

Linking up to Wordful Wednesday with:

and Dude Mom.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Solitary

I parked the car as close to the house as I can listening to the voice in my head sneer, “It’s better to load you with, my dear.” I struggle to stack ONE more box into it. One more set of childhood photos, and drawings. One more heirloom punch bowl. One more antique secretary empty of the fantastic treasures it held in my childhood. I wish I could fit the Grandfather clock in the car too, but there is no way, even if I repacked everything. I have zero room.

Already, the long drive back to Texas, and the unload will take many hours. I look back at the house. The house I grew up in. Where I had many tea parties, birthday pool parties, and wild teen parties. The house where I saw my first car parked in the driveway. The place I would leave to explore. Across the street to the pond, among the big pine trees, or over the barbed-wire fence next door to Mr. Sliger’s pasture. I would dodge cow patties down to the river bed where I would find a big rock to sit on and pretend I was a girl in a storybook. But that was many, many years ago…..

Now, at forty-one years old, the cows are long gone, Mr. Sliger has passed away, and I am driving my Mom back to assisted living. I had to come here. I couldn’t just let it all go.

My brother said, “You better come get what you want before the house (and everything in it) sells. She doesn’t want to come home anymore.”

Earlier, when I told her where I was going, and she asked to come with me, I hesitated. I didn’t want to bring her here. I didn’t want to see her in her house with all the dogs gone, most of the rooms empty, and every cabinet cleared out. I wasn’t sure how she would react, but I needn’t have worried. This place is empty since her husband died, and her love of the things she kept for so long is no longer. This revelation is conflicting to me. I revel in sadness, gladness, and awe. I never imagined this day. But I am happy for it. And I am so glad she is not lonely anymore.

I look back. Just once more, and that is when I see it…….

I grab my camera. “I’ll just be a minute, Mom.”

“What are you doing?” She calls out. “Angie, we have to go. I have to get back. I can’t miss dinner.”

Her voice fades as I get closer and look through the viewer of my camera.

One solitary butterfly has landed on Mom’s butterfly bush.

One orange glimmer amidst the green and purple hues. It’s not hard to spot in the shadow of my childhood home.

I can’t help but click the shutter – just one last time.

My mom loves this garden. She labored many days over her plantings. Seems she was always making new garden beds. I wrote a post over a year ago (seems longer) Mother’s Garden. Her beautiful garden. So enchanting. So much part of her.

To see this butterfly bush grow from a small container plant to tree size…it reminded me of the past, and of the future.

My capture of it seemed a fitting good-bye.

But the magic is witnessing this lone butterfly.

Maybe it kept my heart in my chest. Maybe it spoke to me in a way that only nature can.

It’s not really good-bye… it?

Nothing can take the memories of home away.

Like the butterfly…life changes…it morphs…it grows…it becomes something beautiful.


It flies away.

So I go…..but I don’t forget.

As I enter the car, I pass my camera to my mom. “Did you get anything good?”

I display the screen with the orange butterfly alight on her bush and her breath catches. “Oh! That is beautiful. Can you make me a copy for my apartment?”

My heart smiles, “I can, Mom. No problem.”

I turn the car towards town. I take my mother home.

If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies. ~Author Unknown

See more of the weekly photo challenge by visiting The Daily Post

Next Stop Childhood

What is it about a train set that brings about a little bounce?

A tiny squeal over the intricate details.

The loving touch of design with a dash whimsey.

Bridges, crossings, and turns.

The conductor blows a horn.

A mission of delivery or pick-up.

The chugging of the engine.

The rat-tat-tat of the train track as it clicks by.

The wonders of the mind that plays.

So that we can play too.

And live vicariously on a trek to a faraway land.

If only, we can be still, and imagine.

We hear the whistle blow.

    So, like a forgotten fire, a childhood can always flare up again within us. ~Gaston Bachelard

© Angelia’s Photography – Model Train Set – Clark Gardens, Weatherford, Texas.

The Eyes of the Soul

Her eyes, her eyes….
Make the stars look like they’re not shining…
She’s so beautiful and I tell her every day (excerpt from Bruno Mars-Just the Way you Are).

A child’s eyes are more than just pretty peepers. They capture the innocence of the world in their gaze. The wonder, and the delight of learning, discovering, and becoming the grown-up they will one day be. All of the universe is a dash away from their grasp. It’s in their eyes where a child’s spirit radiates their joy and their heart. Laughter pours out unchecked. It fills the air with sparkles, and amazement. They fly from one place to the next because their liveliness can’t be grounded. And their eyes……their eyes………shine. Do you remember those days? What if you were to capture it?

The Paper Mama

This is my entry for The Paper Mama photo challenge. It was hard to choose between the three beautiful girls I have at home – all of them – with the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen, but this picture spoke to my childhood soul. That soul wants to soar. Catch me if you can…..