Unripe Lychee nuts and what happens when my son gets ahold of one.
I am an unripe Lychee nut.
Or so I feel. We have a tree in the front yard that is full of them. They are just starting to get ripe. Apparently they only come out every other year. They weren't there last year. This year, they've been swelling greenly and prickly on the tree, and we looked up yesterday to find them blushing just a little.
The boy went around collecting them from where ever he could reach and finding a few on the ground.
We peeled one down to it's pale white/gray translucent flesh and tasted them. They are extremely juicy and rather tart, leaving a puckering feel behind on your tongue.
The boy loved them, and ate the whole thing. Going so far as to crack the seed with his teeth before I told him that was not to eat.
He wants more. But the rest are still and green and sharp.
I am like this with art lately, maybe life in general. I feel it all growing into something fertile and ripe, but I am just not there yet. I try to take the fruit now, but it makes me wince just a little bit with it's sour edge.
If I let it sit a bit, let it drink in the rain and the sun of life, then maybe I will wake up and be full of pink and blush? Maybe I will be ready to pluck the results of my down time.
As for now, I think I'm going to write this afternoon, instead of painting. I think I'll be posting photos more, and looking at creativity within life, rather than just the paintings I do. I used to blog about more than my art. I think I'm going to loosen up on my definitions of myself and cast about a bit for the other ripe things in my life. Look around at nature for inspiration without requiring that I am painting everyday. Creativity is more than just painting, so maybe it's time to play with some of that.