Post by Haley Reese on Nov 17, 2008 5:12:31 GMT 2
Anti-social. That's what her parents were calling her now. She didn't completely see the logic behind it. Sure, she went off by herself a lot more than she used to, but she still socialized with her friends a couple times a week and always tried to visit her old friends every other weekend. Could she not have some time alone with her thoughts and her art? It was her passion, and sometimes it was more important to her than ice cream and girl parties. (Though, ice cream was often hard to deny. The girl parties? She wasn't a fan. She didn't enjoy the fuss.) It seemed to her they were expecting her to do what some frilly teenage girl should do (yes, she'd seen her mother reading those parenting books, like How to Deal with Your Teenage Daughter. She had a feeling she didn't fit many of the chapters). She was teaching them that they couldn't learn everything from a help book.
All of this carried on in her head as she walked the familiar path to her favorite spot in the woods. It was slightly worn down, obviously taken by animals, or perhaps other people. She'd never seen anyone else through here anyway, just the occasional deer or rabbit. She pushed ferns and flexible branches as she walked, the sun filtered through the trees. It was making only a brief appearance, because soon it was hidden by the clouds and she was bathed in the gloomy light. She actually preferred that, never fond of the sun. It was too glaring, though sometimes she found it necessary for some of her paintings. Sunsets were always so enjoyable to paint. The mixture of colors, blending the hues of oranges and reds, pinks and purples.
It took only a few minutes to reach her spot in the woods, a clearing, with a large tree situated at its center. She felt the tree had character, the branches low to the ground, the leaves sweeping the tall grasses.There was one particular branch that was low enough for her to easily climb onto. She draped her bag over it before pulling herself up, settling herself so her back was against the trunk, her legs drawn up to form a table for her pad of art paper. It always depended upon her mood what materials she brought with her. Today, it was charcoal.
She studied her surroundings before fixing her eyes upward where the branches tangled intricately overhead, twisting, the leaves shivering in the occasional breeze. And she began to sketch, her mind becoming completely absorbed in her work and the leaves above her. Nothing else.
All of this carried on in her head as she walked the familiar path to her favorite spot in the woods. It was slightly worn down, obviously taken by animals, or perhaps other people. She'd never seen anyone else through here anyway, just the occasional deer or rabbit. She pushed ferns and flexible branches as she walked, the sun filtered through the trees. It was making only a brief appearance, because soon it was hidden by the clouds and she was bathed in the gloomy light. She actually preferred that, never fond of the sun. It was too glaring, though sometimes she found it necessary for some of her paintings. Sunsets were always so enjoyable to paint. The mixture of colors, blending the hues of oranges and reds, pinks and purples.
It took only a few minutes to reach her spot in the woods, a clearing, with a large tree situated at its center. She felt the tree had character, the branches low to the ground, the leaves sweeping the tall grasses.There was one particular branch that was low enough for her to easily climb onto. She draped her bag over it before pulling herself up, settling herself so her back was against the trunk, her legs drawn up to form a table for her pad of art paper. It always depended upon her mood what materials she brought with her. Today, it was charcoal.
She studied her surroundings before fixing her eyes upward where the branches tangled intricately overhead, twisting, the leaves shivering in the occasional breeze. And she began to sketch, her mind becoming completely absorbed in her work and the leaves above her. Nothing else.
