You are my sunshine

When my girl was a baby I used to sing songs to her all the time. One of our favourites was “You Are My Sunshine.”

With so much grey above us of late, I’ve been yearning for a good blaze of warm sunshine. Since the Man Upstairs hasn’t been listening to my prayers (I guess He has his hands full these days with terrorists and others in this world who were raised with no regard for proper etiquette :), I decided I should just create my own sunshine.

Since I enjoy painting on 4.25” plain ceramic tiles, I purchased a big carton of them at Home Depot to keep on hand for whenever I get the itch to paint.

Instead of painting one tiny picture, I decided to collage four tiles into one larger piece. I painted a quarter of the sun in a corner of each tile so that all four tiles together would become one whole. I also bled over the edges so that I could leave space between each tile and still keep the flow of the picture.

Next, I incorporated the song lyrics by painting a verse on each tile. Once everything was dry, I sprayed the tiles with sealer.

I wanted to frame them in the same fashion as my Man of the Sea shell picture (displayed in an earlier post), so I chose a plain, square frame and set some metallic-flecked sky-blue fabric under the glass. Next, I used my glue gun to affix each tile on top of the glass. Even with all my measuring, it was a bit of a pain getting the tiles perfectlyyou are my sunshine copy straight because once they’re glue-gunned down, there’s no moving them. The bottom tiles are a smidgen crooked but this is where I fall back on my personal mission statement: “Nothing in life is perfect. Especially the stuff I create.” (Except for my daughter. She’s pretty darn close! 🙂

I think the finished product would look pretty nice in a baby’s room. (Excuse the glare on the glass. My photography skills need a lot of improvement.)

Speaking of babies, here’s a poem I wrote on a wintry night a few years ago:

The Snowstorm

Toasty little flannelled feet,
Tiptoe ‘cross the nursery rug,
Busy, dimpled starfish hands,
Give the drapery cords a tug.

The amber glow of streetlamp light,
Illuminates two widened eyes,
That dance, as icing-sugar spills
In silence, from the murky skies.

Cheeks a-bloom like scarlet roses,
Button nose pressed to the glass,
Watching God’s vanilla frosting,
As it spreads itself upon the grass.

A gleeful gasp of baby’s breath;
Behold the wondrous sight below!
God has closed his doors above,
And sprinkled stars atop the snow.

As the sun begins its rise above
The dips and peaks of whipping cream,
Nanny finds on the window seat,
Her charge, curled ‘round a winter dream.

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