Humility

Often life of the "artist" is romanticized. I, myself, have often been guilty of this; the romance of travel and inspiration. But creation is a toil of the body and soul and of the hand; a laborious drive like living off the land. Not to be mistaken as a mere whim.There is a hard reality to romantic fantasies.
It is curious that those who have so little give so much, while those who have so much give so little and with a price to pay for what they give.
But I have been given yet another wonder. My first deer sighting! Only a glimpse. A silent doe caught off guard by my presence as I sit on the foothills of the Transylvania, over looking the vast flats that stretch out to the West.
I spent my morning and early afternoon wander the hills that cradle the small town.
Upon my lazy return lunch and another Romanian lesson were waiting. Again, I have little idea of what I was eating but it was good. A cheese pie was the side with potatoes and some sort of soup as the main course.Cheese pie is simply cheese baked into a flat bread of sorts. All home made, of course. And all very tasty. My host mother, as she likes to call herself, preceded to give me my days lesson. She would speak, I would try and repeat what she said, not having any idea as to what I am saying, she would laugh in exasperation, and I would smile form the exhaustion of my own ignorance. All and all. pretty enjoyable. Although, I wonder what is being said and what I am eating? She does smile a lot........