First of all, I’d like to say thanks to everyone who left an appreciative comment on the last post.
Kai was pretty chuffed with himself after I blogged about his work. He’d heard me talk about how WeaveZine is read by people all over the world, and immediately made the leap that this meant he was now an internationally acclaimed artist. His comment right after I posted it and read it to him: “Finally, the recognition I deserve!”
(It is possible that being the child of two writers/artists has affected his world view a bit.)
For the next few days, as comments came in, I would call him over to the computer and read them to him. And he was tickled and delighted. He was one happy five-year-old boy.
Which brings me to the next point. There were some comments I didn’t read to him.
When you’re reading something on the internet, or posting something on a website, it can be easy to forget that there are real, live, people behind the content.
It’s also really easy (and many a flame war has been inadvertantly started by this) to write something in email or a comment where your intention isn’t 100% clear and without the context of body language and vocal tone, can be misinterpreted.
When you’re writing a comment on this site, please be respectful. You don’t have to agree with the content. In fact, feel free to dissent and explain your reasoning. We might all learn something new. All I ask is that you think about how you’re saying it. I want WeaveZine to be a place that folks feel safe sharing their work, whether that person is an established artist who’s been weaving for forty years, or a five-year-old boy.
(And seriously, the little guy is picking up reading at a frightening pace, and I may not be able to gloss over things in the future. ;> )
Here was something I saw in my window this morning that seemed like the ultimate embodiment of hope.
It’s a cutting I took from my neighbor’s hibiscus plant. I stuck it in some rooting gel about six months ago and basically forgot about it, occasionally throwing in some water as the gel was absorbed by the plant. Somehow this little twig, with only two tiny roots, found the fortitude to create a bud and then flower.
The snow melted, I can see grass.
Could this be spring?