Therapy can come in many forms,
and for me that therapy comes from working with my hands.
Sometimes I work with fibre, spinning a piece of art from a heap of fleece which at a glance looks like nothing, feeling the texture slip through my fingers as the repetitive treadling and spinning of the wheel lulls you in a form of meditation.
At other times the therapy takes the form of crocheting, taking a beautiful hank of yarn and turning it into an item which can then be seen in all it's beauty, no longer the ball or hank stashed away in a cupboard.
A cake baked a therapy twice over, the creating and the eating.
So I raise my cup of tea in a toast to vets, the many lives of cats,
and Art as a form of therapy.