laura k bray

       I sometimes wonder what my grandchildren will think if they flip through my sketchbooks?       When they pick-up my Botanical Wonder Sketchbook will they see that I was an avid gardener, deeply in love with nature? Will they marvel at my account of almanac-like posts and see a personal account of climate change?      When they flip through my Recipe Sketchbooks, they will see the Ambrosia recipe I wrote down and illustrated, based on my great-grandmother's recipe. Will they be inspired by notes on our family tradition Taco Nights? Or maybe they will already have Taco Nights and realize where the tradition started.      When they look at my Artist Sketchbooks, they will see that I designed a line of rubber stamps, based on my love of tea and gardens, and notes for some of my embroidery designs. Will they be inspired to learn how to embroider or explore their own creativity?      When they look at...

     W hen I was in college, I collected the first lines of books. I had a journal to hold my collection and, whenever I came across a particularly good first line, I wrote it down. My two favorites were the openings lines of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s book, Love in the Time of Cholera: “It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love.” and Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier : “Last night, I dreamt I went to Manderley again.”      I had these lines memorized and would trot them out during late night literary discussions with my fellow literature major friends. I cringe when I think of my younger self doing that, but you know she was on to something because now that I’m trying my hand at writing, I’m realizing that opening lines are my superpower. At least I know how to start story.      Recently, I read an article about Shirley Jackson’s opening paragraph to We Have Always Lived in the Cast...