Quality

It’s hard to measure

The quality of one’s own work

When caught in the moment

Create in an instant

But give space for your judgement

Take a palate cleanser

And remember to read

The room can be different

In the harshness of daylight

But don’t fight it

The act of creation

That flowed from your pencil

Was special

Take time before you return

And be kind but discerning

We are all learning

With each passing day

Thoughts

The handle broke on our garage door the other day so rather than measure it like a normal person, I took a picture of my hand for scale and went to the shop for a new one.

Was it a quality handle? Some would say no. It clearly broke. But it had been in service for nine years in all weathers and the door kept sticking in the winter. It performed under incredible strain so it inevitably let go.

The new one fit perfectly in case you were wondering.