Aislyn Meadow
Art

I've been trying to name this latest painting of mine and the first word that comes to mind every time I think about it is “Freedom”. Or maybe “Flying Free”. It seemed a tad unromantic and a lot unoriginal at first but it stuck around so I guess it stays. There's all sorts of different kinds of freedom. You know. Freedom from chains and freedom from fears. Freedom from pain or freedom from the Missouri heat. Freedom from sad times or tough times or scary times or trapped

I have just done something a little unthought of and a lot exciting. I have up and moved to Stella, Missouri for two. whole. years. I planned it about six months ago, so it wasn't exactly a whim. But now that we're actually here it feels a bit unreal and one wonders once in a while what makes a person do the things they do. But. I'm at The Brooking Healing Waters Camp with some amazing teenage girls and some more amazing fellow “chiefs” (as they call the staff here). So

It's a handful of strawberries, still warm from the sun, with a few grains of dirt. It's the slant of the sunbeams early in the morning. It's walking across the lawn barefoot and soaking your toes in the dew. It's brushing away the dirt and eating fruit warmed by the sun. It's picking a dandelion and remembering the wilted bouquets you used to carry in to your mom. (Who then very graciously arranged them in a tiny special vase and made you feel like you'd brought her