My mermaid

The other day, my son and I went to the pool, and both of us noticed a boy laughing and swimming there. "He has green hair," said my son. I nodded," like a mermaid boy."

And I went home, thinking of mermaids...

Mermaids

Here are some drawings of mermaids by girls ranging in age from 4 to 8, and the softies that came out of them. Mermaids are mythical creatures that exist in the folklore of many cultures. They are renowned for their beauty, their hair and their enchanting voices that can lure humans into their watery world.

Shawna

The sun throws us glittering days
asks us to make peace with glowing wounds
the unhealable
the impatient spaces between
what is and is and is.
-Shawna Lemay, Against Paradise


This is Shawna. She is a poet. A wordsmith. She loves handbags, old typewriters and bacon. When she's not at her desk, turning words into cathartic imagery, she's out with her camera capturing poetry in colours and calm things, or she's hanging out with her family and her lovely black lab.

You can find her at http://shawnalemay.blogspot.com/

Skeleton Guy

Skeleton Guy was drawn by six year old Ella after her brother had some x-rays taken. He's made of soft cuddlelicious fabric and his arms are upholstery trim. His little brain can pop in and out of his skull.

Sara

This is Sara. She's in grade 3 and likes soccer. She also sings in the school choir. She has to wear a uniform at school, but when she gets home, she likes to change into her jeans and flip flops. Then she kicks back with nonna's home made pizza and a glass of cranberry-grape juice on ice.

My son's school fair

My son's school is having their annual picnic/ spring fair in a couple of weeks, and I made a little doll to donate to their silent auction. She's 11 inches tall, made of something that feels like merino wool, and I found some red knitted fabric to make her sweater and some plaid that is pretty close to the school's uniform tartan. I was planning to make two, and I have the second body ready to go, but I haven't had the time to get to it, so she might end up being one-of-a- kind!

Pink!

spring days

Ava and Laure

Ava and her friend Laure had just finished putting their blueberry muffins in the oven and they sat down to wait.
"So, what do we do now?" asked Ava.
"How about wax scratch pictures?" suggested Laure.
"Takes too long. What about a game of Pick Up Sticks?"
"Didn't we use those sticks to make shish kebabs?"
"Oh yeah, scratch that. Want to bead something?"
"No, not really... when are those muffins going to be ready?"

Ava

This is Ava.

Ava was embarrassed with her arms. She thought they were too skinny, and she would wear long sleeve shirts or sweaters just to cover them up. She never knew that other girls secretly envied her ballerina body, and no one knew that she didn't like her arms. One day, Ava found an orange scarf at a yard sale, and she bought it for fifty cents. On the way home, people kept looking at her. Some nice lady on the bus told her she was very pretty. Ava couldn't believe she heard right, but she was too confused and shy to ask for clarification. She ran home and looked at herself in the mirror. It's the scarf, Ava thought, it must be magic.

The power of girls

Yesterday, at my son's track meet, I saw his teacher consoling one of his classmates who was sitting alone and crying. Apparently, in front of 700 on-lookers, she had sprawled flat on her face in the 100 m dash. She had a scraped knee and an unenviable insight on humiliation that no band-aid or teacher was going to make better. The teacher asked me, "where are the other girls?" and when they came, they immediately knew what to do. They didn't say much, with their sympathy and companionship, but a few minutes later, the girl was up and running as if nothing had happened.

Act I, scene 2

The bulbs have been amenably taking their cues to provide some colour to my postage stamp garden. First, there were the crocuses and primroses, followed by the violets, daffodils and hyacinths, and now the various tulips. After Vancouver’s drab, wet winter, I welcome each and every one of these flowers, sometimes like an old friend making its perennial appearance or, as new kids on the block, like these tulips. The Boy and I planted them last September, and I am really enjoying their creamy pink heads. The flowers don’t stay around for very long. “My turn!” they seem to exclaim as they take center stage for their moment of glory, joyful performers of color nodding in the wind, before they take their bow and go.