My husband exclaimed today, as it began to drizzle outside, “I’m gonna compose a song for you for our anniversary!” (A prospect which, by the way, is hilarious.)
My response? “Well, not in here. I’m listening to my Bleeding Vag Pandora station.” (Maybe that wasn’t the most appreciative answer, but it was blurted out before I gave it thought.)
He scooped up a guitar and said, “It’s cool, I’ll go to the BirdRoom… it gives me inspiration.” (I did end up following him eventually. Perhaps guilt was a factor.)
The BirdRoom is my whimsical escape, being the culmination of my ‘hope chest’ tendency and the result of a small obsession with the Avian kind.
On this particular visit I mulled around the room while Ke worked out a tune and some lyrics about how sweet I am, half listening, half browsing through the memories on the shelves.
One item in particular drew my attention today, a piece of petrified wood collected on a family picnic.
Found by my uncle, this specimen had made it’s home on a creek bank, spotted during a round of crawdad hunting. After investigation with chilled fingers and intrigued eyes, he handed it to me for safe-keeping and continued on his crustacean quest.
I’m not sure that he actually meant for me to take it home, but I did so out of a sense of duty, after all, he gave it to me and I did not want to seem unappreciative.
In reality I’m sure he handed it over with little thought, and would not have wanted me to feel guilty had I simply tossed it back into the creek.
But I operate often times influenced by guilt, so it came home with me that day.
I found the piece a home on a distressed shelf amidst green glass and an antique ceramic cartoon-esque birdie, whose original purpose is unknown to me, but was presented in a set of two that I had to have.
I soon found myself reliving the entire petrified-wood-discovery process as I sat on the bed, with Ke’s diddling in the background.
Shockingly-cold creek water trickling by, creating a symphony that monopolized the ears.
Children squealing after making crayfish finds, half eager to grab, half frightened as hell.
Streams of warm light through the old leaves, the breeze occasionally convincing a few to release their grips and dance down to the ground.
When I came-to I realized that perhaps that’s what he meant when he said that the BirdRoom provides inspiration. I was forced to take another look at the concept of inspiration.
I came to feel that I’ve misinterpreted the idea entirely. I’ve taken it way too literally for far too long.
Inspiration, apparently, can be easily found in memories, and isn’t limited to visual input.
What a revelation.
I feel… sheltered…and single faceted for having not realized this before now.
But of course this makes perfect sense. That’s the point of decorating with nostalgic pieces, to remind and provide inspiration. And these items shouldn’t be limited to man-made beauties.
-Pawpaw Dye’s glacier rock -Ammonite gift from my parents -Uncle Monkey’s petrified wood
Nostalgia-laden or not, I like to add a rustic touch here and there with an interesting item that I’ve come across in nature. Of course, one can also purchase these types of items at craft stores and big-box marts, but, mass produced and without thought, the memories aren’t included.