Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Idleness, May flowers, and new paintings

Acrylic paint and colored ink

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Sketches from Readings.

Where have you hidden,
Beloved, and left me moaning?
You fled like the stag
after wounding me;
I went out calling you, but you were gone.

Shepherds, you who go
up through the sheepfolds to the hill,
if by chance you see
him I love most,
tell him I am sick, I suffer, and I die.

from The Spiritual Canticle St. John of The Cross

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Where sheep go to dream.

Last night I had a dream of a sheep... or maybe I dreamed a
sheep having a dream...  I see images of sheep during this spring
of 2011, a precious spring that only occurs now.

If you look for me,
 you will find me everywhere.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Inspired by the last post, 
Emma's"rescue" illustrated with a drawing.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

The tale of the cat who fell from the sky.

Once while I was walking through a small woods about five years ago this very month, I heard a sound not usual for these surroundings. No, it was not a bird, yet somehow I knew this sound. Stopping to hold my breath so as to listen better, I heard it again. The distinct sound of a kitten in distress!

High, high in the trees she was.

I looked and looked until finally I saw her face, tiny and white . I was positioned at the far end of the limb she was on and she was headed right toward me.

 She stepped quickly to the supple end of the branch bending it almost in half and down she fell. Down, down she crashed through leafy boughs and branches grasping at all till she caught on something that would hold her.

I watched in astonishment as she collected herself and began to look my way again mewing loudly as I crept through the underbrush to get closer to the trunk of the tree. She then followed me and was able to make her way down toward my reaching hands. I quickly pulled her from the tree and held her as she panted wide eyed. She was clearly a kitten who was lured through her own curious nature and perhaps somehow lost her way.

I took her home and she became Emma, queen of the household, ruler of her domain, feisty little spitfire, semi feral one.

....and this is how she came to have eyes of a different color.
One, the color of the sky, and one the color of the earth.

Thursday, May 05, 2011

Some technique and and learning  to
appreciate a moment.

At this stage of the painting I like to sometimes just ponder
what is there and see which direction I'd like to take next.
I see a figure emerging over her shoulder next to the tree. 
Do you see this?

The crayons give an effect similar to pastels.

The water soluble crayons lay on top of the painting like pastels would, 
can be blended with water, and can also be lifted off/removed with
a brush and water.

I will continue the painting tomorrow. Today the sun is shining
and the air is warm.

We sit outside, I in my chair,

Misha and Mimi near by,

I see this tree from where I sit and can notice how
 quickly it has filled up with leaves. Soon it will be dense, providing 
shelter for birds and squirrels. Later in the season cicadas will take 
their places high in the canopy looking for mates. 
I hear a bumble bee's buzz turn to  lazy drone as he flies by and 
searches for nourishment after a long winter in hibernation.
I'm aware of the sound of dog tags as Misha settles down for a nap,
 happy to be near me.

I close my eyes and feel the warmth of the sun
 and appreciate that at this moment

there is no where that I would rather be than right here.

Monday, May 02, 2011

As May once again unfolds her arms and  generously
gives us her gifts of beauty and wonder, and as we celebrate and receive her,
other events are making their mark during this time of the budding of the trees
 and I am moved to ponder something else..

Bloodshed is never a time for celebration but is a time of self examination
 and reflection.

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. [unknown]. 

"Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that" -- MLK, Jr.

re blogged from Jade Page Press