I wouldn't call myself an artist - I wouldn't be so bold - but I am and always have been creative. I come from a long line of craftsmen and women, on both sides of my family. In most cases, creativity came out of necessity. Having to sew one's own clothes for school, building and fixing household items, growing and canning one's own food was simply a fact of life for hardworking immigrants in the Midwest. The only time you called an electrician or a plumber was when your skills had reached their limit, and to progress any further would mean risking 1. property damage, or 2. an arm or a leg - literally.
My own creativity is borne less of necessity, and more of that itch, that little voice inside you that sees the price tag at the store, looks at the object, whatever it may be (CD shelves? A floral wrap-around skirt? Mario Batali Artichoke and Mushroom Marinara Sauce?) and says, "I can make that!"
And by the time you've bought raw materials, tools and spent hours and hours making said object, you figure it would have been less expensive to just buy it in the store anyway.
But where's the satisfaction in that?
Seeing the happiness of Jill, Siofra's new owner, and hearing from Arthur's new owner, Erika, gives me such a wonderful feeling, I can't describe it. It must be something in the way a nurse feels, handing a mom her newborn baby. Maybe not. But all I know is, the pain of letting my horses go was erased by the joy of knowing that they are where they belong.