The Story of my Blog Title
Quilt of Dragonflies- My blog is named that for a reason.I am lucky enough to own a genuine Quilt of Dragonflies, which I am sure brings me good dreams when I sleep beneath it. It was given to me by a friend of my mother's, who handmade the entire thing. Color meets pattern in this fantastic piece of artwork which sits on my bed. Brilliant shades of purple, blue, and green intersperse with tie dye dragonflies. I will not hesitate to call it my inspiration.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Write on Wednesdays: Possessing Beauty
The Write on Wednesday Spark: Possessing Beauty
Write about a collection. Write about something you or someone you know, collects. Think about the "why" behind the collection - why is it important to collect this particular thing? How does it make the person feel to add another piece to their collection? Is the group of objects there to be seen, to be studied or simply kept together? Write a real life story or a piece of fiction.
My nutcrackers sit on the bookcase, watching me with kind eyes and wooden smiles. In this house, they are not a tacky Christmas touch, but old friends that stay up all year, seeing me through good times and bad. They are not extensive, and I do not live in a crowded world of painted eyes, but they are a part of me that has grown through the years, and are as important to me as my favorite book or my special bear.
It all started when I was a young child and was in a ballet Nutcracker three times. The first time, I was the youngest member of the cast, a smiling Chinese Tea girl with a bright red costume and a twirler full of energy. The Nutcracker was my fairy tale, complete with dazzling snow flakes, flurries of whiteness, and the queen of fantasy: the Sugar Plum Fairy. I was entranced, and of course I yearned for my own wooden prince to come, so I could rock him in my arms and he could save me from the mice and take me on a tour of the World of Sweets.
Much to my delight, I received my first real nutcracker that Christmas, and I pirouetted around the living room, holding him up for the world to see much like Clara holds her doll up to the audience. I remember the joy of that moment, a child's joy at being invited to live the fairy tale, and it was wonderful. My collection grew as the years flew by, and each brought new Christmas memories, and unearthed the old memories of the stage and the first Nutcracker.
Even today I cannot look at them without humming the magical music, without realizing how lucky I am to have them as tokens of my childhood. Their stiff grins and unwavering stares contain the conversations of old friends, and I look at them as some of my dearest companions. Perhaps my prince has been with me the whole time.