Wednesday, November 24, 2010


Shadow images fascinate me, especially when they are so sharp. Looking at them gets me to one of those places where I feel like I almost get that esoteric "thing" that explains everything. This is the side of my refrigerator in the morning light.

Reading this now, I realize it may sound a little fatalistic. It really came from a good place, an ah- ha moment.

The ocean is really calling me. I love this old ranch, but I am ready whenever the powers that be see fit to bring the perfect buyer.

I do some of my best thinking and day dreaming in the shower or the bath.

So, by now I am sure you have noticed that I'm off in a bit of a new direction with my journaling.
I am trying to sketch everyday. The experts teach that daily practice can really improve technique. I am learning by doing. Many years ago I drew everyday and surprised myself with some of what I produced. Hoping for a repeat of that experience.

Happy Turkey day tomorrow. Baked 3 pumpkin pies to take to Katydiddy's tomorrow where the entire clan will gather. I love having all my chickens around me.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Holy Mary, Mother of God

My youngest granddaughter's night prayers include a Hail Mary. Although we have fallen far from our Catholic roots, Mary is still near to our hearts. The best part of listening to her recite this ancient homage to the Mother is when she whispers, "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us 'sisters', now and at the hour of our death." The word, according to the church, is 'sinners'. I like her version so much better.

This sketch and this poem come from the same place in me that loves listening to that sweet bedtime request.


Hello little bird
hop, hop, hopping
from Spring into Fall.
Collecting, inspecting
all manner of twigs,
grass, lint, dog hair,
tiny bits and pieces
to weave into the
very best of nests
which you then place
carelessly, actually
precariously, into
rolled shades, onto
the tiniest of ledges,
into the adjared corners
of shutters, and balanced
on unprotected eves.

In heartbreaking shades of
blue, soft speckled brown,
you leave your hopes for
the future, your contribution to life,
proof of your faith in tomorrow,
in your carefully planned,
exactingly executed but
so carelessly placed incubator.

You will sit for days, faithfully
guarding your laughable fortress,
until the day, that one moment
when you must fly, to eat, to breath,
to scan your surroundings. And that
one moment is all it takes for a stiff breeze,
a squinting human, a hungry snake, a
thieving jay, with no effort at all
to sweep in, to break, to eat your tomorrow,
to send your hopes crashing to the ground.

But you silly little hop, hop, hopping bird,
you collect and inspect, you repeat the
careful crafting, the careless placing
and the hopeful laying of, dreams
and tomorrows. You never stop. I shake my head,
say that you never learn.

I no longer carefully build,
I do not trust my choices of placement for
my hopes and dreams, my faith in tomorrow.
I have learned,
I have stopped.
Then I marvel
when one blustery day, from a precarious
perch, I hear hungry chicks chirp, chirp, chirping.


Saturday, November 13, 2010

Feeling low, but making the best of it.

I don't think I ever posted this water color I did when we were in Catalina. But Katydiddy said I should make note cards of it. She may be biased, but I love her comments.

This is how I finally managed to feel after days of struggling with Fibro. It's so much better when I just give up and float.

I started this quite awhile ago and just finished up.

This is new, kind of dark and broken, like I've been feeling. Ready for some words.

BTW, the shadows on the left of these paintings are deliberate. It's how I feel, just coming out of the darkness.

I can't stop with the iPhone camera apps. The lovely Swan at Heart put me on to the Pano app. It is for panorama shots and this is the first one I did. Technically, a mistake. Artistically, I think it's fantastic!

This is what it's meant to do. Again, not perfect, but the effect really tickles me. This is where I play, paint, write, languish.

The light this time of year is so magical. I usually post afternoon golden images, but this one surprised me earlier in the day on the East side of the house. I love shadows.

It amazes me how much art can heal. If you know about Fibro, you know that during a flare your whole body can be zapping, vibrating, hurting, burning, fizzing. And there is no way to get comfortable. Doing this page led me to that magical place, out of time and space where I found some relief.

Another thing to be grateful for, Bougainvillea. Even this late in the year, so lovely. And right outside my den door.

The pool, late on a Fall afternoon. This was a few weeks ago when it was still warm enough to swim.

While I've been out of commission, many things that should have happened have not happened and I was struggling to be OK with that. Then, Dispatch From LA brought me just the message I needed to hear. It's so good I have to repost it here. "The cracks. They are big. Sometimes people (things) fall through." Just reading this made all of my angst disappear. Thanks Mary Ann!

Monday, November 8, 2010

Just playing

More iPad, Zen Brush fun.

Saw Elton and Leroy together in concert on Friday night. Good fun.
Yesterday we saw Red. More good fun. Especially for the Baby Boomers amongst us.
Those of us of a certain age like this movie because it reminds us we still got game.

More art coming a bit later.

Let's be kind to each other, just for today.