Sidewalk Chalk Walk

My kids invited me to take a sidewalk chalk walk recently. I was tired, but they were enthusiastic. They had a container full of big pieces of low-pigment sidewalk chalk. This is not a medium I find inspirational, but when a determined preschooler asks you to draw a tulip, “please,” with a winning smile, what can you say, really? I drew tulips. I drew daffodils. I drew unidentifiable flowers in pale pink, washed out orange, and barely yellow yellow. They a really nice bright blue and some beautiful teal, but those were too popular.

Working with imprecise tools that doom you to failure is typically annoying. But taking a sidewalk chalk walk is amazing.

My pre-K-er did not compliment my efforts at drawing, as instructed, “a fluffy yellow chicken.” She asked: “Why does that chicken look too much like a person? Or a duck?” I kind of wanted to draw a chicken person, but I was hoping she wouldn’t notice. I was not trying to draw a duck.

The medium, low quality chalk left out in a storm last fall on rough sidewalk with scattered leaves, is a quintessential blunt instrument, and is the perfect scapegoat. I can joyfully forget that I rarely draw, don’t remember what little I used to know, and forget what baby chicks looks like.

Working with imprecise tools that doom you to failure might be the most freeing of possibilities. It’s the perfect antidote for people like me who tend to want things to sort of work out. It’s also perfect because when the rain comes, my chicken person will be gone forever, and I can take another sidewalk chalk walk.

Chicken duck person. Chalk on sidewalk.