Apple #16

My oldest son attended a Waldorf School for Preschool, Kindergarten and Grade One. I loved that school! I loved their art-based philosophy. I loved their approach to reading. And I loved, loved, loved the Kinderhouse.

I wasn’t alone. I don’t think there was a mother there who didn’t yearn to spend “just a little more time” when she dropped off her child. It was a peaceful, magical, soul-nurturing place filled with the gentle beauty of natural materials – wood, silk, wool, felt.  Nothing jarring to the senses in any way. Not a sliver of neon, not a smidgeon of plastic, not a photocopied work sheet for miles. It makes my heart smile just remembering it.

Sometimes, when the teacher was telling a story, the children would be given a piece of sweet-smelling beeswax to play with while they listened. Beeswax takes a little work to become pliable enough to shape. Warm hands are very helpful. Unfortunately, Gabriel inherited my chronically cold hands so he would often have to hold the beeswax in his armpit to warm it enough to mold.

I had to do the same thing today in order to create Apple #16. Brrrr! But I took a nice trip down memory lane as I waited for the beeswax to soften, remembering the earnest little boy who charged so eagerly into the Kinderhouse every morning, excited to dive into another day of magic. Those were such sweet times.

Apple #16

Title: Memory’s Apple

Medium: beeswax and an apple stem

@—–@—–@—–@—–@

Now grab your pen and paper and timer and prepare for your ten minutes of stream-of-consciousness-writing.

What comes up when you consider the word . . .

 

hive

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