Green isnot usually one of my favorite colors, but, of late, it is one that I seem drawn to. The new small works of leaves, rocks and water intrigue...
Color of interest
June 30, 2014
Trust you are enjoying the new website. It is great to be able to share the work I have done and, as the weeks go by, the paintings I am working on....
My New Website
June 26, 2014
SpottedSerpents are not my first thought as I greet the day, and yet they have been popping up in my mind the last few days. I did a series of serp...
July 5, 2014
Dark Angry Clouds
November 24, 2015
Darkangrycloudsdriftslowlyacrossthesky as the dull lead hued light filters through the cracks of the edge of the storm. Our morning began hours ago in an inky black world of muted sounds and flickering lights from boats bobbing in an invisible bay. Mother would not stay in bed so we got up and started a long watch for the dawn. It come but without fanfare or bright colors; the parade of boats stopped as the harbor’s offered safety was more sought out than the wild sea. Few sounds of trucks reach us as most folks are holed up in warm places waiting for fair weather. Mother spent time wondering why the light did not fill the garden, never realizing that the sunrise would not happen for some time and the mantle of storm hid what light there was. She has gone through several cups of coffee as it soothes her while music floats in the air around her. Yesterday she assured me that I was a good provider and she thought of me like I was a member of her family. I thanked her for liking me so much and laughed to myself. The sound of the wash machine has died so it must be time to move the clothes from their bath to their carnival ride to dry. The house is filled with boxes and strange piles of things. We had a new closing date given, the forth one, and we wait for the last of this long process to be over. Fish sit in stacks, dry finally, and ready to transport to the new place. Already, we have moved what seems a mountain of boxes and art to the new house. The last will go in a week or so unless we get another closing date. My paints are packed away to prevent me from spreading wet oils on things that have to be moved. Sort of saving myself from extra cleaning and touch ups. Ideas are still flowing into me and I have more ideas piling up each day. Some will get made into art; some won’t. Am making sketches of ideas that now seem too wonderful to pass up and will see when the time comes if they seem still as exciting as they do now.
The plants that will go with us are lined up on the patio in their pots. Most are still in bloom and it is easy to see how much I love the color red. Bulbs that will stick their heads up in the spring hide beneath the soil of the pots, waiting to jump up and display their brilliant blooms in the sun. This is the first move that there is only the two of us. Mother does not mention Dad much as he recedes into the dark places of her memory. If I mention him she thinks I am talking about her father or remembers him as a nice guy. I carry the basket of her and my memories and share them with her when she asks. She is always surprised and asks why no one ever told her what has happened to her dear family. The explanation of her disease means nothing to her but seems to give her peace at there being a cause for her loss. And we go on a slow drift down the stream of life talking and sharing what we can.
Hope you are not putting on yourself expectations that you cannot achieve or that weigh too much to carry. That you will enjoy your life and find each day is sweet and refreshing with bright joy. That even on dark days the basket of your memories will not cause you pain but relief from the events that happen in every life. That you reach out to others even if they are not able to return what you give. That you will find the many things to be thankful for and enjoy the sweet and leave the bitter alone. Stay strong and well.