From seeds I picked up walking by
A neighbors bed where blooms had died
A daisy bed with leaves so green
And a yellow flowers made such a seen
I stop…admiring, having grown so well
The colors Lord, You must now tell
That deep, deep green with yellow blooms
One of Your best one must assume?
I must admit I have not seen
Everything that You have dreamed
But when I glaze splendor design
I feel Your presence ever time…!
Here’s a really really rough version of something I’ve been working on… Well half of something I’ve been working on. I’m gonna finish this first half before I work on the other half so…. hm…. I dunno what to say here… :P
Jen Mann is a Canadian artist living just outside of Toronto. She attended OCAD U from 2005-2009, receiving her BFA in printmaking. Since then she has focused on painting and developed a large body of work, which explores the subconscious, and focuses on ideas of freedom, perceived beauty, identity and home. Jen loves to garden, cook and watch movies in her free time.
As I saidd before, I’m leaving tomorrow in search of the sun so thought I should post something now since I’ll be gone for about two weeks. I got inspired by lots of mother’s day one shots and drabbles and since father’s day is coming up this seemed appropriate :)
hope you like, please comment/like/reblog - i’ll try and reply if i get wifi/a spare minute while away or once I’m back :) sorry for not being here, I’ll try more when I’m back, but thanks for sticking with me :)
“Hey, good morning…”
I could hear her voice soft in my ear and her breath tickling my skin as her lips grazed below it, moving down my jaw and across my cheeks. Gently, they fluttered a path over my nose and found their way to my still closed eyelids.
“I know you’re awake, Joshy.”
Her lips barely lifted from my face and her hands pressed flat on my chest. I sighed and smiled to let her know she was right, but didn’t open my eyes straight away. I could feel her grinning back at me, even through my closed lids, before her lips pressed fiercely against my own. No way was I sleeping any longer now. My hands snaked up her back and held her close to me. When she pulled away, I allowed my eyes to open, her face directly above mine, hair falling forward from where it stopped at her shoulders and the sunlight from the open window framing her. A smile lingered on her still slightly pouted lips and her eyes flickered with sparks of energy.
“Morning,” I managed, my voice deep and rough as it broke through sleep, my arm wrapping around her shoulders and her head finding my bare chest.
“Happy father’s day,” she smiled, looking up at me, my lips mid planting a kiss to her hair.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks – doesn’t that allow me to stay in bed all day while you and Pops bring me whatever I need?” I teased.
“Where were your and Poppy’s servant bells and aprons on mother’s day?” she smirked evenly, digging a playful elbow to my side.
I laughed. The thought of our three year old waiting on either one of us in even this imaginary game we had conjured was highly unlikely; with an even shorter attention span that apparently her mother had even at her age, we had passed on Jen’s nickname of Nitro when Pops had just passed two years old.
It was nice to enjoy the silence in these early hours, a peaceful moment to remember throughout the day of just the two of us, lying, chests rising and falling at the same time, holding each other to the growing rays of sun and dwindling songs of birds.
“Close your eyes,” she said suddenly, sitting up.
“Just close them!” she smiled widely and I had no choice but to comply when I saw the excitement in her eyes.
I felt the bed move slightly but she never got completely out. With a touch of her hand on my arm and a quiet “open” I obeyed her. She held a long blue box, presumably holding expensive jewellery – a bangle or a necklace – and I felt guilt wash over me, thinking back to mother’s day when me and Poppy had made homemade cards and a cake, a friendship style bracelet braided by me and the colours picked out by Poppy, finished off with some handpicked flowers from our garden.
“Jen – “
“Take it,” she smiled.
“But you – “
“Just open it,” she pressed on, placing the box in my hands.
“We agreed, handmade stuff, nothing fancy, I feel awful no-“
“We did make it – just open it!”
I hesitated. “Shouldn’t we wait for Poppy? If it’s from her too, I don’t want to spoil it for her.”
“She has her own presents, just fucking open it will you?” she half laughed but began rubbing her thumb along the back of her hand nervously.
Removing the lid, I shuffled the tissue paper away from the top and peeled it back. It wasn’t jewellery. I would’ve breathed a sigh of relief if it hadn’t been taken by my following gasp on recognising the contents. A white stick, easily discernable. And also clear to see were the lines that told me immediately. Jen was pregnant. Again. I looked up at her, the test lying on my palm. She smiled but her eyes filled up at the same time.
She nodded. “Found out two days ago. I’m four weeks according to the other test I took.”
I grinned and took her hand in mine.
“Happy father’s day, Joshy.”
“I love you.”
Jens hands moved to hold the sides of my face and she crashed her lips to mine, mumbling her “I love you too” against them, her face wet from a few spilled over tears and our mouths smiling as we kissed.
“This is the best father’s day present ever – how will you beat it every other year?” I chuckled, imagining Jen telling me this news every father’s day.
“Don’t be getting ideas,” she laughed with me, in our resumed position holding each other, my arm around her and her hand lazily drawing circles on my chest.
“I told you we made it,” she half sang with a smug smile.