Mrs. Castleriver's Prize Possession

I am writing about this illustration from Paris. An evergreen tree outside my window has been watching over the birth of four illustrations so far, its feathery branches swaying in the cold February wind. Little by little, during the past two weeks, my living room, in an apartment bordering the botanical gardens, Le Jardin des Plantes, has become alive with images from a book that I wrote for children: "Mrs. Castleriver." This story was born a long time ago when we were living in a village in the mountains of western Japan, our home for 14 years. The village in the valley below us was called Deep Valley. Like our village, Lucky Field, most of the inhabitants were full or part time farmers whose families had lived in the area for centuries. When the Highfield family of Deep Valley moved to a new house around the corner, a woman from the city, rented their old house for a season. She wore fancy shoes and was especially known for the extravagant imaginative clothing she made for dolls. She was unlike the women of the village around her and for a time became a designer of their fancy clothing. News of her skills spread through the area and Mrs. Castleriver had a lively business. Until one day when she did not. "Mrs. Castleriver" is the story I imagined of why her life became unbearable and how she found joy in becoming a fashion designer for animals, most especially mice. This is also the story of "Earl Gray," the cat who came to her to help rid her home of rodents but instead, became a peacemaker among them.

I came to Paris to sit with this story and see if I would want to work on illustrations for it. I wondered if this story wanted to come out into the world. A few days ago, I sketched and then painted this illustration of the bag Mrs. Castleriver bought in Venice by the "Bridge of Sighs."  It is her most valued possession and contains pieces of fabric from her life. In the story, she speaks of the bag in this way to Earl Gray: The bag was very expensive but the contents have no monetary value at all. It is filled with rags, cuttings of this and that from my travels. Mementos. Nothing more. As you may know, since you too are in the middle of your life: memories can be dangerous.  They hold sadness as well as happiness. Cruelty with kindness.”
Each fabric has the power to transport the person holding it back to that time and place. The mice will do anything to secure a piece of fabric. Earl Gray must be on guard.
What will the tree outside my window witness tomorrow?