Contrary to a weirdly popular belief my spouse nor I are not trust fund babies. Though I came from a more privileged life than Caswallon, I am not independently wealthy, and he was raised by his mother, a high school math teacher.
We work hard to provide for our family, though admittedly being fulltimers we work differently than apartment or house bound nine to fivers might.
This is not uncommon for RV dwellers in the least but I have noticed many of them seem to do some kind of digital, financial, or sales work, which all sound delightfully stable to my Capricornian sensibilities, but probably also isn’t as glorious as I imagine either. all jobs have their stresses.
Caswallon and I, however, are artists, though we also do a lot of odd jobs. It works though as we can adapt around his epilepsy and my migraines and roadschooling the children and of course travel. Life is a constant hustle and we are okay with that.
For us today work is Caswallon sanding wood from a dead cherry tree we helped a friend fell recently while I work on the designs I will be woodburning, painting, or engraving on them. Both of us love working with wood, it is a warm vibrant medium that speaks to our wandering hearts.
I could definitely cut corners by buy finished perfectly round piece of wood for my art (and admittedly sometimes do) but none of them have the character and wildness of the dead fall and other pieces that we find as we roam together. Each piece has a story and I could tell you were we found most every piece we have worked on.
As a byproduct of this hunt for great pieces though, it takes Caswallon hours to bring depth and life back to the wood. I love watching him as he planes them and then works his way through various sandpaper grits to get the wood to the perfect glassy smoothness I like to work with.
People often see my art and mandalas and praise them, but don’t be fooled by this simple piece of cherry, yet to be touched by my art. It is a labour of love before I even touch it.