Habits and Addictions, Routines and Rituals

Was it as I was indulging my habit of wandering and looking around the house as I grind my morning coffee that I looked out the pantry window and saw this view into the garage? Or perhaps it was during the sunny afternoon routine of doing laundry that it caught my eye. Was it addiction that forced me to grab my camera? And what of my ritual of sharing photographs on the blog with you?

In the week without computer, I nearly became addicted to solitaire (the card kind), and reading graphic novels, though I did not become addicted to drawing. Trying to make drawing a daily habit has been very difficult for me. Where does creating art fit in a life committed to taking care of other people, especially when I barely keep up with all the mundane tasks involved in running a household? And how come I can make room for blogging?!

As for the photograph...

The metal angel candle holders are a gift from my mother. She had sent two when my family was two, then she was happy to find and send a third when I had another child. As soon as the seasons turn dark, we add the ritual of lighting candles at the dinner routine.

I found the 7-up bottle at one of my favorite local houses, Grave's Farm, after the brothers Grave had died, but before the house had been renovated and turned into a bed & breakfast, and the land had become part of Mass Audubon. I have a habit of searching for and saving rusty things. I found some rusty buckets and tools along with this soda bottle and some old magazines there on some of my routine bike rides past the farm. I also once drew an ink sketch of the tree out front.

I gave the original drawing to a friend, this is a photograph of a color copy

Whiskey. I'm not sure when I first fell in love with the word (and for me, it always has an 'e'). Perhaps it came from my childhood: there have been addictions in my family (but I managed to escape them). I associate the word not only with country music (it's hard to front a band named Whiskey Ina without being gifted with lots of whiskey--Ooh! I like the double meaning there!), but also poverty and passion, pirates and poets, a black & white movie of a life lived. And, heck, the Knob Creek bottles are cool.

The tea cannisters are from back in the days before the french press came to live here. Before I made coffee at home, I was mostly a tea drinker. I have the bad habit of keeping cannisters and tins, thinking I might use them for something someday. Oh, the many projects that see light only in my mind, more rusty treasures.

The spiderwebs are courtesy of the spiders.