Magic-maker

Some of you know my friend Lysa. She’s married to Del Miller, and very lucky he is too.

Today the postman brought me a parcel … from Lysa (‘and Del’ was handwritten on the package, but I doubt that he had anything to do with the sequins). This was an only slightly belated birthday gift (my birthday was 28th March and I’m pretending it was my 55th, which just goes to show how bad things really are). The label said the package contained ‘plastic beads/objects and metal scraps’.

I’ve received gifts from Lysa before, and the experience is like opening a treasure chest, so I was excited. In a haste reminiscent of childhood I slashed open the parcel and a cascade of pink sequins and what I can only describe as fairy dust spilled all over my worktable. The smile which took over my face still hasn’t left it.

At first I thought a container must have burst or something, but there was no sign in the parcel of a broken anything which could have held the sequins, and they had invaded all the separate little packages.

There were other things – beads and ribbon and interesting paper, and stones … the sort of stuff that mixed media artists like me find very useful. Then I got to the box – exquisitely wrapped in gold paper and tied with lavish ribbon. I didn’t want to disturb it, especially spangled as it was with sequins. But curiosity got the better of me. I carefully untied the ribbon and opened the box without tearing the paper. On the top layer was an intriguing collection of intricate bits of old jewelry and old utensils … superb for ‘found object’ art and jewelry. Underneath that were 10 beautifully moulded white calla lilies. These would have been lovely at any time, but under the circumstances they were superb.

You see, not long ago Lysa and I were talking about calla lilies. I’d used a photo of a pink one (which I’d taken at her place when I visited in 2004) for my latest brooch design. We’d talked about how we both loved calla lilies for their simple yet sensuous elegance and purity.

Lysa has a genius for giving people exactly the thing that will delight them most.

I marshalled the majority of the errant pink sequins into a jar, but there are still a number scattered around my workplace and in my clothing, and sticking to various parts of my body. Some people would probably be annoyed by this … the sort of people who complain about confetti at weddings, and the purple carpet that jacarandas make in the spring. But Lysa knows I’m not one of those. She probably knows that, in the days to come, every time a sequin turns up unexpectedly I’ll smile all over again.

You know, I can’t think of a single thing that won’t be improved by pink sequins and fairy dust.