SANS SOUCI

SMALL STUFF

2012-01-03T10:49:00.000-05:00

A couple more 4 1/2 X 6 paintings.

WATERFALL

Acrylic on W/C paper

RIVER

Gouache on W/C paper

MISSION LADY FINISHED PLUS

2011-12-28T10:05:00.000-05:00

This is the finished painting of Our Lady of the Mission. She is off in the mail, donated to the Mission Cultural Center for Latino Arts in San Francisco for their You Are Beautiful Exhibition. Previously I said she was a pay-it -forward project. This is the story. Last week just before Christmas my husband was at work at his part time job in a retail store. A man came in with a wad of cash. He peeled off a one hundred dollar bill and gave it to my husband, saying God has been good to him and he is passing it on.

With nothing else really to give as a pay-it-forward, I painted this Lady and donated it to the Mission Cultural Center for their upcoming show. I recall some of the donated art we got when I worked at a local art center, and since these places were hurt a lot by the economic downturn and the cutting of government art grants, every penny counts toward keeping these centers open. Hopefully it will sell, and the Center can keep the profits. If it does not sell, at least it will be displayed somewhere in the streets of San Francisco after the show, and perhaps someone will benefit from the love that went into painting it.

OUR LADY OF THE MISSION

11x14 acrylic and gold leaf on canvas board

loosely modeled after St. Margaret by Filippino Lippi 1457-1504

Since I brought my art table in from the garage I figured I might as well put it to use so I have made use of the time off work during these holidays to paint a couple of other things. Small things.

Winter Scene

Gouache 4 1/2 x 6

Path through a Garden

Gouache 4 1/2 x 6

My message to you through the rest of this holiday season,

and for always:

OUR LADY OF THE MISSION

2011-12-22T19:23:00.001-05:00

This is what I am working on now. It's the first piece of art I have been serious about in almost 4 years. Maybe my muse is trying to return. This Mission Lady is not finished. I still have to add a veil, and complete the halo and some touch-up stuff. She might get some gold leaf. She is much brighter than the faded look this picture shows. If she turns out the way I am hoping, I will be donating this artwork to the Mission Cultural Center for Latino Arts in San Francisco. This is for the "You Are Beautiful Exhibition" which runs from January 14 through February 25.

If anyone is interested in joining this exhibition, let me know and I'll send you the information. If your art sells, you'll receive 60%. If it does not sell it could be installed in the streets of San Francisco, or you can have it returned to you. Deadline is Jan.6.

I am donating this artwork as part of a "pay it forward", which is another whole story for a later time.

Happy Holidays!

ONE SPECIAL BIKER BABE

2011-12-14T17:44:00.001-05:00

FOR JAMIE THARPE CHANCEY

There’s a spirit in the meadow now

with misty hair long and flowing.

When your heart calls out to her, you’ll see her

in the light of the full moon through the trees.

She’s an angel flying close to the grassy path

looking, searching.

Beside her, two small cherubs

visible through the mist,

her two tiny hearts reunited.

But still she searches...

for those left behind.

And the pink bike,

Her metal love,

Sits riderless.

Rest in Peace, Jamie

her mom's blog

SATURDAY MORNING ANGEL

2011-11-12T12:00:00.000-05:00

Angels will not leave

and let my soul live in peace.

Pen, ink, and paint rule.

I WENT TO AN ESTATE SALE

2011-11-08T19:01:00.000-05:00

I like going to estate sales. Especially if they are in an upscale neighborhood. One can find special treasures by shopping carefully. They don't have to be expensive treasures. If you remember Adelaide, I got her at an estate sale. When I cleaned her up, she was absolutely beautiful, and now has a permanent home on the bed in my guest bedroom.

So I went last weekend to another estate sale. A beautiful home, on a lake, with a pool in a huge screened area. Lovely place. And this is the treasure I found.

I have a small collection of these ceramic scent balls. I don't know what else they are called. Potpourri holders? Closet smeller gooders? Whatever. Please tell me if you know. I love them but they are so hard to find, and when I do find one I just get all excited like I've come across a chest full of gold! This one came from England.

Here are my others, so far only six.

The yellow one is a bit wompy-jawed, but I like it anyway.

This green one with the bird sits by my bed, with a cotton ball inside sprayed with the last of my daughter Aleta's perfume. After three years, it still smells wonderful, and sometimes in the middle of the night when an air current flows through the room, I awaken when the gentle fragrance envelopes my senses.

But I think this one is my favorite. It has paintings on all four sides.

So, there you have my little treasured collection. Now, if you happen to have one of these and want to get rid of it, you know who would be thrilled to have it!

Until next time.....xoxoxo

SOMETIMES THOUGHTS TURN TO POETIC WORDS

2011-10-27T11:45:00.010-04:00

******************************************************
*****************************

A FANTASY, I’M SURE

They tell me to still my mind

and I will feel an angel hover near my heart,

reaching out to my spirit,

helping to carry me through another day.

But I have never seen

nor felt

the power of an angel.

I’m told by some who say they know,

that angels all have wings.

So I close my eyes to see this glory,

to feel the whisper against my cold cheek,

to be enveloped by the softness

and feel the anguish wilt away,

set me free again

and let my heart soar to music and color,

and people and life once more.

"Trust”, my people say.

“Trust the angels. They are always near.

Freely give your heart, your inner self to the spirit.

Let the light come through you.”

But I have never seen

nor felt

the power of an angel.

DREAMS

How far can the caged bird fly?

He lifts his wings,

reaching up,

his heart is free.

He tries to go,

but steel bars hold him ever low.

How high can the caged bird fly?

Through clouds and winds

to tops of trees.

Close the eyes,

feel the pull of changing air currents

lifting him ever higher

to the top of the world

and the edge of the universe.

In his dreams.

AMAZING PHOTO

2011-09-28T18:58:00.001-04:00

THIS PHOTO WAS IN THE PAPER. I THOUGHT IT WAS MAGNIFICANT ENOUGH TO SHARE! KUDOS TO THE PHOTOGRAPHER, STEVEN PREVUZNAK!

RAINEY DAZE OBSERVATIONS......

2011-09-08T14:35:00.006-04:00

Source: Internet Photo

****************************

CONCLUSION

Southern summers end

with September.

Leaves slowly turn from bright silvery green

to darker, Hooker’s green

filtered with oxide colors.

Reds, yellows splash here and there

like a painter’s palette

signaling the approach of Autumn.

Southern summers end

with rains beginning.

Heavy downpours,

oversized water droplets falling hard,

falling fast,

splashing high,

leaving reflective puddles.

The sky, the clouds lay there on the ground

within small lakes disappearing quickly

as the rains cease.

Sky and clouds escape into the ground,

sucked up into oblivion.

Southern summers end

as the rumbling Gods move their deep voices

and electric fingers

away with the dark, traveling clouds,

leaving room for the sun pushing through,

heating puddle remnants,

water vapor rising,

steamy,

Southern summer lingering.

MOTHERHOOD

2011-08-25T19:31:00.000-04:00

MOTHERHOOD

Against the wind she flew,

Magnificent golden feathers slick against a slender body,

Sparkling wings pumping in perfect unison,

Catching the cold updraft,

Lifting her higher and higher into the low-hanging clouds.

Glancing at the glistening snow peaks far below,

Telescopic eyesight searching for dark movement against brilliant snow.

Hungry, scanning the panorama carefully,

Remembering the last attempt,

Failed, defeated.

A parent fox too watchful over its baby.

Finally, a shadow.

A hare traveling swiftly over frozen landscape.

Golden bird angles her body quickly to drift lower,

Down, down, out of the clouds.

Silent glide taking her low over the unaware hare.

Stretching talons, powerful swoop.

Making contact.

Wings pumping hard she rises high again

Into the wind.

Talons clutching tightly into hare’s bleeding flesh,

Turning easily toward the distant cliff face

To the nest.

I CAN'T RESIST........

2011-08-22T14:43:00.001-04:00

.............showing pictures of Ms. Wee. I call her Mrs. Beautiful. Here she sits on the front window sill watching a flock of Ibis that come frequently to get the bugs out of our lawn. She will sit entranced while they are out there. When they march down the street out of sight, she is ready to get off the window sill.

She also likes to play "peek-a-boo"

Here she sits like "the Queen she is" on her new cage in her corner of the kitchen right next to the window. She lived

free" for 18 years and I was afraid to cage her, but she took right to it (as long as I leave the door open frequently) and stays close to "home". Now, I don't have to worry when I go out. Just lock her in, turn on some music, and she naps til I come back. She is happy with her new home. The first few days she had it, she refused to "use the bathroom" in it. She waited til I let her out then used her free standing perch. Didn't want to mess up her house. I am so happy she likes her new home. So much easier for me to clean, too.

Isn't she just too pretty?

This little guy is a baby dove that I found on my porch yesterday. He came from another nest on my porch light. He seemed tiny, but fine, so we put him back in the nest since mom was absent. But this morning, he was back on the porch floor dead. I don't know what happened. Perhaps the fall from the nest hurt him and mom shoved him out when he died. You think? He has a bigger sibling.

These are my Lakeshore Jasmine trees. They bloom and bloom and bloom. One day it was windy and all the blooms fell off. It looked like snow. Under these trees is a little pet cemetary. This is where Yellabird and Otherbird are buried, and now Baby Dove has joined them.

It looks peaceful there.

GRAB A CUPPA...

2011-08-04T17:42:00.001-04:00

Grab a cuppa tea or coffee and have a short read of my Poetry and Eclectic Thoughts.

"Poems are rough notations for the music we are." Jalaluddin Rumi

THE RAVEN

Now, in the winter, I follow a path,

A fire road carved out of the woods through the trees,

Winding in and out like a snake seeking food.

I feel the cold wind on my back

Cutting through the light jacket

The sharp teeth of winter biting my face.

A deep grey sky indicates a pending snowstorm.

In the distance, a black crow caws his message to the forest,

Echoing on the cold, heavy air.

He receives no answer to his call.

A raven, unexpectedly, has perched upon my shoulder,

Its blue-black wings tight against its slender, hollow bones.

Leaning slightly forward, his jet black eye peers into mine,

Speaking a silent language,

Warning me.

But I cannot hear the silent thoughts;

I cannot heed his warning.

“Why, raven, have you sought me out among all others?

What message do you bring me?”

But the silent raven only stares,

And digs with sharp talons into my coat,

The wind moving his feathers in a flapping motion

As if willing him to fly.

Yet he clings.

“What is the message, raven?” I ask again silently.

His eyes, like deep, dark pools of swirly, muddy water, give only a penetrating stare.

The wind increases,

The dark bird flies,

And I am left to face the coldness of the night alone,

Wondering if the raven has stolen my soul.

****************************

THE STAR

In the middle of the night

A star fell from the sky.

I watched as its bright, diamond sparkle tumbled and gently floated from high.

The star nestled into the earth,

And over time it grew and became a lovely flower

With sunlight weaving through its slowly unfolding petals,

Opening to the world,

It’s core a golden heart, trusting, full of sweetness and color.

Each season I watched as the flower folded into itself,

Yet soon became reborn,

Changing and growing,

Its petals becoming even more lovely than before,

Its golden heart widening, filling with love.

Then, just when the flower was at its most beautiful,

At the brink of fulfilling its earthbound destiny,

At the edge of a newer, fuller life,

Just then…

The flower was plucked!

No more to open its lovely, pure petals,

Its scented heart.

No more to feel the sunshine on its gentle, upturned face,

Nor to feel the warm rain of life trickle to its roots to help it grow.

The flower was plucked!

Sadly it faded,

Withered,

Was gone.

Forever.

Sometimes, when I watch the sky at night

And I see falling stars

I wonder.

“Is that my flower?

Has it gone home only to return one day to flourish again?

Or do I dream in vain?”

******************************************************

IF YOU DIE

If you die, I’ll know it was from a broken heart.

I can see it doesn’t work any longer.

It’s fragmented.

Like an electrical circuit interrupted,

Your emotions zig-zag

In and out,

Up and down,

Hot and cold,

Freezing cold!

You try, I can see that.

I watch, and hope, but nothing works right.

Like a small bird with a broken wing

You start and stop,

Try and fail,

When all the time the dark cat hiding behind the bush

Waits for you to tire,

To become weak,

To stumble and fall,

Again.

If you die, I’ll know your heart became tired of trying.

I’ll know the wings folded and gave up.

I’ll know the fractured heart shattered.

If you die.

****************************************

I do hope you enjoyed my writings. I certainly enjoyed bringing them to you.

THE FICTION PROJECT

2011-07-31T15:12:00.002-04:00

Last Friday I went to Winter Park to the Fiction Project event, held at Full Sail University. Their library was closed for renovation so they held the event in their Live Auditorium.

This is a beautiful campus. The university's curriculum is digital art, music (sound and light equipment instruction) and filmmaking.

If you want to be a tekkie in one of those fields, this is the place to study. A perfect setting for the Art House Coop traveling art and literature project.

I didnt get many photos because I was too busy devouring these delightful books, but I did get to meet Eli, one of the founders of Art House Coop. The checkout process was fast and professional. Art House Coop really has their ducks in order!! I checked out Kai's book. I had stopped in nearby Apopka to pick up my cousin who was delighted to look at these wonderful books.

My adorable cousin and me (also adorable!)

I didnt know who else had participated in this project or I would have been really happy to look up their books. I guess I should have gone better informed. If the next tour comes close, I will definitely, without a doubt, go again! If it comes near you, it is worth a trip to check it out.

And the Fiction Project. Don't miss it!

After I came home, I did get a couple of emails telling me people had checked out my book (other than me!). Even though it wasnt a lot, I was thrilled nevertheless that someone would take the time to look it over.

My Book

80 pages of short stories, poetry and illustrations.

I am glad I participated.

SUMMERTIME BABY

2011-07-24T16:33:00.004-04:00

I thought it was rather late in the season, but mom decided she wanted a baby so there goes our porch light again. Hubby swears there are two babies in this nest, but I have only seen one and this guy looks ready to fledge. Cross your fingers for him. The crows got the last two.

Isn't he a cutie?

UPDATE

Fledgling's first flight. He made it as far as the porch railing. There is another baby in the nest but quite a bit smaller. Hope it makes it. If mom doesn't come take care of it, I'll call the local baby bird rescue to come get it.

UPDATE 7/27/11

OK, HERE THEY BOTH ARE. BOTH BABIES FLEDGED AND ON THE GROUND NOW. MOM STILL COMES TO FEED THEM BUT IT WON'T BE LONG BEFORE THEY ARE GONE.

I PROMISE, END OF DOVE STORIES!

HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY.

A QUIET, PEACEFUL DAY LED TO THIS

2011-07-12T12:19:00.001-04:00

The other day I visited a long time friend. There is something maybe spritual that draws me to this friend and I always enjoy my time with her. She is like a wise owl. After a lunch of greek salad and egg salad sandwich, we spent several hours catching up on "stuff", went to an art gallery where she has beautiful oil paintings displayed, and walked down to the beach. It was an overcast day with no sun, the water was a blue grey, and the sound of the Gulf lapping gently at the shore was peaceful. We sat on a bench watching small groups of people enjoying the sand and water, watched dolphins feeding, listened to gulls laughing. And talked about many things. One of the things she portrayed to me was about feeling like "not being in just the right place" or "reaching for something but not knowing what" or "trying to find something that isn't there". Some of you may know the feeling. I think I have felt that way. It's a longing with no answers. A boat that is supposed to go somewhere but just sits in a tidepool. Anyhow, not being able to really explain this spiritual feeling, I thought about it for several days, and just sat down to write about it. This is what came out.

LOOKING WITHIN

In the everflowing stream of time

I let my inner primary image

circle my spirit.

Daily.

Entwine my heart,

Always.

The shadow of life hovers

As I trudge toward my journey's end,

Excited.

On the path to a place that might not exist,

With grain after grain of thoughts

Pushing me forward,

Stimulated.

Reaching for the impossible,

The improbable.

Lunging into a void,

Humbled.

Feeling an invisible autumn breeze

Pulling at my coat collar.

Drawing me to rise, to flourish,

To reach out into that stream of time

Finding a place of beauty for my soul,

Finding peace for my spirit,

A colorful garden of love.

Imagine a life without flowers.

Have you ever felt this way?

A SKETCH STORY

2011-06-19T12:54:00.004-04:00

THE DINER

The flashing pink neon in the window, distorted from the rain sliding down the glass pane in rivulets and dripping off the concrete sill onto the dirty sidewalk where only hours earlier a hopeless person had ejected his whiskey fumed sputum, winked on and off

OPEN ALL NIGHT

inviting all the midnight classes of society to enter and perhaps, in this tiny establishment, be warmed, fed, find conversation or hope.

OPEN ALL NIGHT

it flashed, and the door to the dreary, dimly lit table-filled room, the door with its old sleigh bells draped side-to-side across the glass to alert those inside of an entry, opened and shut, letting out the scent of warm, energizing coffee, bringing in the wet hopefuls, rain dripping from clothing, wet shoes tracking dirt and street oil on to the linoleum covered floor between the tables near the window, and the counter.

OPEN ALL NIGHT

the neon flashed from behind as well, its electric wires running in a haphazard, flyspecked highway around and under the smooth, gas-filled letters, falling abruptly toward the baseboard, sucking its life from the dirty yellow power outlet that showed dried signs of mop-splashing in some distant past.

OPEN ALL NIGHT

the neon flashed, even as the sun began to rise bringing with it gentle winds that pushed the rain away, and light to the darkened streets. Abruptly the pink disappeared, the flashing ceased, and the grey-white of the now dormant neon waits on hold until the day finishes its business, the sun once again sleeps, and the sidewalk will glow pink and dark, pink and dark...

OPEN ALL NIGHT

CUTE ENUFF TO SHARE

2011-05-31T10:59:00.000-04:00

Ms. Wee has a perch in the bedroom near the foot of the bed where I put her this morning while I went into the bathroom. When I came out, this is what I found. I guess she decided she wanted to see what was outside that window that she never gets to look out of. Probably only a lizard on the fence, but she was sure interested. Silly bird!

Now, back to that blog break! :)

ANGEL ART

2011-05-25T19:37:00.001-04:00

THE LITTLEST ANGEL

12 x 12 acrylic

This is the painting I finally finished from the sketch I posted a few weeks ago. It isn't good, it isn't bad. It's just...well.....just finally finished.

A small pastel, about 4 1/2 x 5 1/2

Untitled

Angel on a Stick

Literally!

The angel is from my sketch book, cut out and mod podged on.

The stick is a paint stick...from Home Depot.
It hangs.

I thought maybe my muse wanted me to paint angels. It only took these three to find out I was wrong. They are not good art, and I have no special interest in this.

Sigh..........Yawn.....

I'm taking a blog break.

PETS FROM NATURE

2011-05-19T16:09:00.001-04:00

SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO BE IN THE RIGHT PLACE,

AT THE RIGHT TIME,

WITH A CAMERA IN YOUR HAND

MAYBE THEY ARE FRIENDS? ;)

THE STORY OF SIMON & HIS FAMILY

2011-05-09T12:55:00.003-04:00

Ok you know me, the bird freak! But I don't think I ever told you about Simon and his family. It's a story that must be told because it's just too sweet.

When I married my better half around 20 years ago he had baggage. The baggage came in a cage and it was naked. Well, almost! Her name was Goldie, and like some captive birds, for unknown reasons she had plucked herself. No matter. She was dearly loved anyway. She was a Jendae Conure with a big, golden head, and a sweetie she was!

When her "daddy" napped on the couch, she would lie on her back on his chest and nap with him. I have a photo somewhere but can't find it.

Of course I was jealous to not have a bird that loved me just as much, so one day we went to the flea market and found a birdseller and got Simon, a Sun Conure. We always called him a bagbird because we brought him home in a paper bag.

Simon thought he was very cool!

And he was.

He went everywhere with me. In the car, to the beach, visiting. He waited on the dash of the car while I ran into the 7-11. He showered with me. He followed me like a puppy when I went walking on the beach, running along behind with his little legs pumping like a sandpiper.

He waited around while I sunbathed (remember this was YEARS ago, I dont even DARE put on a bathing suit now! Everybody would flee the beach!)

He gave me morning kisses :)

But then one day he remembered Goldie lived there too, and she was much cuter than me, not to mention that she was naked! Who could resist?

So Simon and Goldie became a couple.

They must have been fooling around when we were not watching, because one day I found Goldie in the bottom of the cage surrounded by torn-up papers, sitting on an egg! Well, needless to say I was brushed aside and Simon became the doting husband. One day not long after, we heard this little "peep" "peep" sound, and were actually lucky enough to watch this baby bird hatch. Of course, we had to name him Peep Peep.

Because he was a cross between a Jendae and a Sun Conure, he was a Sundae Conure.

Baby Peep Peep before all his feathers grew in.

And then there were three.

"Oh yawn, photo shoots are so boring."

(notice Simon is yawning)

We became observers while this family tended to their baby. They taught Peep Peep to climb the rope up and down their cage so he could wander. Simon would run after him if he got too far from home and scold him, then Peep Peep would run back home, climb the rope with Simon scolding the whole time, and fall into his mothers arms......uh......wings. It was a total delight to watch this family interact.

Eventually I lost Simon. It was a hard, hard lesson to learn, but I think he may have chewed on some of the chipping paint in the old, old, old apartment we lived in, probably a hundred layers of leaded paint. I cried for a month when he went to birdie heaven. Goldie and Peep Peep followed him a few years later, and I can imagine that proud Simon is loving them and bossing them around still.

Proud Simon

REMEMBERING

2011-05-04T19:39:00.000-04:00

Today is 3 years since I lost my daughter in a terrible accident. Usually on this day I send up a balloon with my love written on it with a marker. Usually, I spend the day crying, wailing actually, asking God why? Sometimes it progresses to IS THERE EVEN A GOD? Surely not if He would take such a kind, caring, loving child away from me. WHY? I'm a good person. Why do this to me? And why take such a worthy person like Aleta, who never tried to hurt anyone, always made it a point to be kind, calm, considerate and charitable, away from her children? Doesn't He understand kids need their mom?

These are questions I will never find an answer to. So today I'll just skip the balloon. She probably doesn't see it anyway. I'll just tell anyone who cares to read this that she was a wonderful, thoughtful daughter. She was a registered nurse. Of course, what else could she be except in a profession where she could help someone! She loved her work, loved her kids, loved her momma. I have letters from her telling me how much she loved her kids and how she loved and respected me, her mom! How special is that? So today I will just surround myself with that knowledge and feel grateful that I was lucky enough to have such a beautiful daughter, beautiful both inside and out.

Today is also my husband's birthday. He doesn't celebrate it happily any more. Aleta always - never failed - called him on his birthday. That was so very special to him. This morning he told me he is still waiting for her to call. She didn't that day, you see.

Aleta Gayel Black

I miss her so very much.

ANGEL IN THE GARDEN

2011-04-28T15:37:00.000-04:00

Butterfly Angel

Watching over Spring flowers

A life so brief

Both yours and the blooms

Be radiant while you can

QUESTION.....

2011-04-23T19:51:00.002-04:00

This is a small tapestry I bought at an estate sale a number of years ago. I am wondering if anyone knows what this picture is. It's a courtyard of some sort. Maybe someone will recognize the building. Could it be old Jerusalem? It's really beautiful in person.

Happy Easter.

COMING TO AN END

2011-04-21T16:23:00.000-04:00

This watercolor girl is going to be part of my Fiction Project. I will be finished by tomorrow, maybe this afternoon. Yeaaa!!

I have to go there and explore and figure it all out. I have yet to do that.

Later...........

PLUGGING ALONG

2011-04-12T13:26:00.005-04:00

Taking a short break here from The Fiction Project, plus other things needing done in daily life. I love getting surprises.....I mean TOTAL surprises......in the mail. And a few days ago I got one. From glitter sister Kai. It's a designer version of Ms. Wee. Who could ask for a better surprise!

I think this pen and ink and color pencil art is absolutely beautiful, just like my Mz. Wee. Look at the tiny, hanging heart. My heart belongs to Ms. Wee. Thank you Kai. You are soooooooooo appreciated!!!

Remember Ms. Dove from last post? Her two babies have fledged and flown away already, and she is starting on her second clutch. She sits up there on top of the porch light looking so peaceful and happy. I envy her!

A note about The Fiction Project. Whew! Almost done! That's a LOT of handwriting! Here is a sampling...just one page of a story and a piece of art to go with it. The art is unfinished. I'll doll it up and add some embellishments when I'm all done with the writing part. Saddest part......they asked us NOT to use glitter! Can you imagine? They don't want it falling all over. NO GLITTER??? Well, ok, I'll use glitter glue. That doesn't come off.

Today is one year since we lost our granddaughter Kara. A whole year. I know my daughter is going through a terrible day because I remember the first year after I lost Aleta. It was awful. It still is. There is always a "first" something; first anniversary, first Christmas, first birthday, first Easter, etc. etc. Then there is the "second". And so on. It NEVER goes away, but it does get a little bit easier to handle as time goes on. I still cry almost daily and my heart squeezes up and hurts really bad. I miss my daughter Aleta SO much! But my tears now are short lived and I can force my mind elsewhere and go on. Alecia is much stronger than I am/was, and she told me she is "ok". I'm so sad for her. Life is not fair.

Back to work.

HODGEPODGE

2011-03-28T17:54:00.001-04:00

Is that the right word for a mishmash of things? That's what this post is. A little of this and that. After this, I'll be gone from posting for a little while, because I joined that Fiction Project, like the Sketchbook Project that some people did, and I HAVE TO GET STARTED!!! I only have until the end of April to write (HANDWRITE) and illustrate a book, so to speak. So that's where I'll be. Oh sigh....why did I do that?

FLOWERS: Right now it is raining cats and dogs and frogs and it is very dark out, but that's ok. The plants need it badly. Here are some of my white birds, which I'm sure are gratefully lapping up the raindrops.

DOVES (AGAIN) For the last two years, and now three, I have been graced with mother dove building a nest on my porch light. She is not frightened away when we open the door. She does not fly when we talk to her or get close with the camera. Yesterday I went out and noticed she looked really puffy sitting on that nest. I thought she must have hatched a chick. Today I saw this.

Good grief! This baby is almost ready to fledge. Where has she been hiding it? Then a little later I saw this:

No wonder she looked so puffy! Amazing how fast these babies grow.

Mom taking a break. I feel blessed to have this dove be so trusting to put her nest right by my door.

MACAW: OK Here is a story that makes me unhappy and happy at the same time. Ms. Wee is now 18 years old. That's a long, long time for her to think I'm her mommy. Most macaws in the wild leave the nest and mom at about two years. I have been feeling sooooooooo guilty and thought Ms. Wee needed to live with other birds, especially when she is in her season and all funky smelling! I was willing to give her up (a momentary laps of sanity, no doubt) if and only if she could live in a sanctuary forever and never, never be sold or caged at the hands of a strange person. Well, I visited the sanctuary, and there is NO WAY she will go live there. Those birds are NOT happy. They are caged, separately, and ignored except at feeding times. Nope. Ms. Wee will live with me as long as I am physically able to care for her.

I can see her out the window when she is on the porch, and she can look inside and know there is someone there who loves her. She has a soft rope ring she likes to nap in.

She has a rope to climb down and she can come in the house any time she feels like it if she is tired of being on the porch. If the door isn't open, she just makes herself known (lol) and I open the door.

She does like to be on the porch. If I am working at my art table she can watch me. Those are all my pencils, etc. on the window sill inside. She watches me like a hawk, too! My little forever birdie!

ART FACES: So, now I have a few faces to post. Just practice work. I was using oil pastels, pastels, and charcoal. They are all unfinished, and I will probably use them for collage work some day. This is just for fun.

MMMMM SNIFF: My house smells so good right now. I am simmering orange peels, cinnamon sticks and cloves. I had to do something! We had shrimp for lunch. You know what fish does to your home!

So, now I have to work. That is, do the work I brought home from the office early this morning. Since I was not able to sleep last night until 3 a.m. (why???????) I will be too tired to start my Fiction Project today. It's already 5:30. But tomorrow I don't work, so I'll be able to get started.

Oh wait, dearest other half said we have to get the tax papers prepared tomorrow for the tax guy. Oh nooo!! Why, why did I sign up for that project?

END!!!

FACE IN THE FRONDS

2011-03-24T12:09:00.002-04:00

Have you ever watched the clouds and seen faces, animals, other objects? Sure, we all have.
Sometimes I sit in a chair and stare at the faux marbled tile on the floor (well, don't ask which "chair!") and see many, many faces in the swirls and whirls. But I just note them and pass on to the next subject on my mind.

Today I was sitting in a chair just staring out the window at the beautiful day. I was watching thru the areca palm fronds which block my view out the front window. Suddenly I saw this face. Hmmmmm, I thought. I have never tried to draw any of the imaginary things I see in the trees and clouds and floor. I thought if I leaned over to get my sketch pad out of the closed footrest in front of me, the imaginary face would disappear and I'd never see it again. You know, optical illusion, etc. I got my pad and pencil, and it was still there. I didn't have a bit of trouble finding it again. So I began to draw, looking at the face and only glancing at my drawing to be sure I wasn't drawing on my lap instead. This is what I captured.

The scribbles represent all the palm fronds that created the shadows around this face to form the shape. The lighter places are where the sun was filtering through.

I think he looks so sad.

QUICK PAINTED SKETCH FOR POSSIBLE FUTURE PAINTING

2011-03-19T09:09:00.001-04:00

Do Angels gather?

Is there a place they congregate to compare notes?

My mind wonders if they bond

If they love each other

If they have feelings like earth-tied humans.

Do they plan and scheme

To make our life here on earth

safer

better

To heal our hearts.

Were they really once one of us?

Do they truly watch over our days and nights

And help us through tough times

As we are told by those who believe, who trust?

Do they even exist?

ODE TO A TREE

2011-03-07T15:08:00.000-05:00

Oh tree

With spring breeze gently rushing through your swaying branches

What secrets you hold.

What sights you have seen, never to reveal.

Oh tree

giving safe harbor to wandering birds,

hiding them from predators,

providing a resting place when their wings tire.

The squirrel nesting in your hollow feels secure,

Your leaves protect her tiny family from sun and raindrops.

I search your depths for that songbird I hear

But to no avail.

Your leaves camouflage him like a green-winged guardian angel

So only his magical voice emerges from the thick foliage.

Oh beautiful tree, I love you.

Except in the fall when you change into your winter coat,

and I have to rake your shedding apparel into so many piles!

ADELAIDE

2011-02-27T17:54:00.001-05:00

Last Friday I went to an estate sale, where I saw a forlorn looking doll sitting alone on a chair, with a reasonable price tag on her bonnet. She was dusty and dirty, and no one wanted her. I picked her up and offered the lady in charge a small bit less than the tag, but was turned down. I put the doll back in the chair and passed her by.

Have you ever regretted a desision so much it burned into your mind? That's how I felt about that doll when I got home. I do NOT collect dolls, but there seemed to be some sort of connection there. So..since husband was about to go out, I asked him to drive by and if that dirty doll was still sitting in the chair, go get it and just give the lady her price.

Being the sweetheart he is, he did just that, and came home with this poor little dirty, waif-looking thing. He had asked the seller about the doll. Well, if you are going to adopt, you want to know some background, right? It seems the doll belonged to this lady's 94 year old great aunt, recently deceased. She didn't know the name of the doll, but her great aunt's name was Adelaide.

So that is how Adelaide was named and came to live with us. She really is quite lovely. She has a cloth body, with bisque arms and legs attached with string from the elbows and knees down, extending to painted and textured shoes and socks. Her hair is blonde, and it seems that some little hand once held a pair of scissor and did some snipping to her hair. What is left of it is deteriorating and comes apart if even lightly touched.

Today I carefully undressed her and washed all her clothes. She has pantaloons with eyelet lace, a slip, a dress and an apron, plus her matching bonnet. A little much for Florida, but it suits her. Her clothes were dried in the sun. Now she smells really nice. She seems happier too. I think maybe her namesake, the real Adelaide, would be pleased.

FIRST ATTEMPT AT TOUCH DRAWING

2011-02-24T14:23:00.001-05:00

TIGHT LOVE

water soluble oils

enhanced w/ water soluble oil pastel

on paper

2 colors only

Interesting technique, and I will do more

when I get a chance,

although I did not exactly draw out my soul with this one
which I believe is what is supposed to happen.

Or did I?

http://www.touchdrawing.com/

THE STORY OF JUDY

2011-02-17T15:20:00.002-05:00

Nope! Not me. Judy the Labrador Retriever. When she came to live at that home, she was already named. A puppy yet, but already named. Judy was sweet and wonderful. I only got to see her four or five times in her lifetime, but it was always a joy to have her around. In her early days, whenever I visited at her home, I had to sleep on the sofa because all the bedrooms were taken. But that's ok. Except for one thing. The sofa was Judy's bed! And Judy was not about to give it up. So, in the middle of the night I was always awakened by heavy body weight on my legs. It was not a sofa bed and didn't pull out, so I couldn't move, I couldn't turn over, I could only suffer through it. It was HER bed, after all! I was the intruder, but at least she was generous enough to share.

When Judy first came to that home, she was loved so much by the human mom and the human kids. But the human dad was a little "different" than most of us. When Judy once tried to get out of the fence, his idea of teaching her to stay inside it was to pick her up and throw her at the fence.....body slam! I am horrified to this day to even think of that. And, when the human dad got into one of his cowboy John Wayne modes, he would shoot Judy's back side with BB's. My heart still hurts over that. The human mom could do nothing. There was a control freak in the home! It was one of the reasons she left one day, and took Judy with her!

Anyhow, Judy was never a bad dog. She played with the kids, slept with anyone who would have her (130 pound bed hog she was!), and in general just tried to love everyone. The only time I ever, ever heard her growl was when she got old, and someone gave her a bone. Boy, you'd better not touch that bone! That was HER bone!

For the past couple of years, since she lost her human mom, she has been living with someone who cared very much about her and took good care of her. Last week, Judy went to Doggie Heaven. She was about 14 or so years old, pretty old for a Lab. But for the majority of her life, she was loved and pampered. She is with her human mommy now, and her human granddaughter. I can imagine they are running through fields of clouds, throwing cloud frisbies and picking cloud daisies. Don't you think?

Snoozing Judy in her elder years

So......I know I have been gone for quite awhile but I am trying to get my life together, get my muse back,

do SOMETHING!!! Today, I played photographer and here are a few

Translucent/Fractal/Abstract

photos I took.

A photographer I am not, and my camera is simple with no special filters, lens, buttons, etc. But here they are anyway, unretouched (except for cropped). Hope you enjoy.

LIGHT AND COLOR

BLESSINGS TO YOU ALL.

PUTRID PRANKSTERS

2011-01-16T12:52:00.001-05:00

You know I love birds. All kinds of birds. In Florida we have a lot of vultures, especially the black vulture. Here, one seems to be peeling the rubber from someone's windshield wiper. Tch, tch. They shouldn't have left their car alone near a vulture roost. I guess rubber makes good nesting material?

Source St. Petersburg Times

One cannot do anything about it except move your car, or chase them away. But they will return as soon as you turn your back. Turkey vultures (not pictured) have a lovely defense mechanism; projectile vomiting! Aaaakkk! Think of what they eat! I'll keep my distance!

Vultures are migrating birds. Most of them migrate to Florida from the Ohio Valley and the Atlantic Seaboard. Isn't it odd....the vultures seem to follow the "snowbirds". We have a LOT of Ohio visitors this time of year. Well, there is nothing to be done about these rubber nibblers. It's against Federal Law to kill migrating birds. Just flap your human wings and say "shoo!"

Meanwhile, up on a branch, a sweet sparrow ponders his next meal. Betcha it won't be rubber!

Derwent Watercolor Pencil

I'm trying really hard not to chuckle, but um, well, I DO love birds. Even vultures!

STILL HEADING INTO 2011....

2011-01-04T18:39:00.001-05:00

Nothing much changes around our little home.

Not even in a brand new year.

Roxie continues to anxiously watch for her "daddy" to come home whenever he is out.

She is such a daddy's girl. Spoiled little brat!

And Mz. Wee stares out the window searching for

lions and tigers and lizards.

She's a momma's girl.

Follows me from room to room

like a puppy.

And I sort of toy with the idea of painting landscapes again. With a brush.

And a canvas.

And writing more poetry.

And short stories.

Maybe.

Time will tell.

What has changed in your house with the new year?

FREE FALLING..............

2011-01-02T12:10:00.001-05:00

............................. into 2011

As last year, my word for the year continues to be Peace. Inner peace. Still seeking. Last try!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL

2010-12-05T10:37:00.001-05:00

THIS IS WINTER, A BOTTLENOSE DOLPHIN. HE LIVES IN THE CLEARWATER MARINE AQUARIUM. HE WAS CAUGHT IN A CRAB TRAP A FEW YEARS AGO AND LOST HIS TAIL. RESCUED, HE WAS GIVEN A PROSTHETIC TAIL, AND THAT'S WHY HE NOW LIVES IN CAPTIVITY. A MOVIE IS BEING MADE ABOUT HIM. IF YOU GOOGLE "WINTER THE DOLPHIN" YOU CAN FIND OUT ALL ABOUT HIM. NO WEB CAMS THOUGH. THEY ARE TEMPORARILY TURNED OFF BECAUSE OF THE MOVIE BEING MADE. IF YOU COME HERE, YOU CAN VISIT WINTER, AND EVEN TOUCH HIM. HE IS BEAUTIFUL, AND OBVIOUSLY WISHING EVERYONE A HAPPY HOLIDAY SEASON.

SAME FROM ME.

A DIVA POST

2010-11-28T17:00:00.003-05:00

Ms. Wee chewed one of her perches. She reaches down under the top perching place and chews the wood dowl rod. It got thinner and thinner. Yesterday it broke and, with a loud squawk and wings flapping, she went tumbling. Then she walked around with a confused look trying to find her perch. So, a trip to Home Depot, and a few manipulations later, Daddy has made her a new perch. She loves it. It is quite a bit taller than the other. When she is on it, we can look almost eye to eye. Almost. She thinks she is Ms. Hot Stuff now.

"Look at me, how high I am now. I'm special. Wanna see what I can do?"

"Check out my gorgeous wings."

"Oh, I just think I'm so pretty. Just tell me 'pretty wings' and what you see is what you get."

Now, wanna hear her scream? Heh Heh

2010-11-26T17:26:00.005-05:00

NON-OBSCENE GRAFFITI STYLE ART FROM A MOSTLY AUTODIDACT :)

2010-11-16T13:52:00.000-05:00

A RAVEN LAY SIEGE TO HER HEART

9x9 acrylic on unstretched canvas

FREE VERSE

2010-11-07T08:02:00.000-05:00

source: internet photo john hetzler

THE VOID

Where I walk along the quiet path, head down,

shoulders hunched deep into myself,

the moonbeams kiss the leaves beneath my feet

and the night surrounds me like a reaper's cloak.

Tear-filled eyes lift toward the star-dotted sky.

Laser trails of shooting meteors flash

blue, white, hard, cold,

like the permanent dagger through my heart.

"Is that you, my child?", I ask no one.

"Is that you blowing those stars around?

Are you playing? Happy?"

My mind's eye can see your mischievous smile.

But now the stone within my spirit sinks lower

dragging my vision back to the moonlit path.

Back to lonely reality.

The night is cold, and they're only stars.

Written for and dedicated to my precious girl Aleta.

POLLING PLACE

2010-11-04T15:21:00.002-04:00

This is the Hope, Alaska Social Hall, where one who lives there goes to cast his ballot in elections. I think you cannot just throw on jeans and a t-shirt and bike up to the polling place. Or drive, and stop at the Wendy's or McDonald's you pass on the way home. Of course you also don't have to wait in traffic or long lines. Hmmmmmm. Just maybe these Hope, Alaska residents have something there! Looks peaceful. :)

SOME PICTURES

2010-11-01T18:57:00.001-04:00

We decided to do the daytime event instead of the night stumble parade when Mamma Guava comes out. I dont think I can handle the hard rock music and drinking any more. It used to be salsa bands and street vendors, but it has changed a lot.

7th Ave Ybor City, Tampa's Latin Quarter, Cuban cigar capital of everywhere. The art vendors were on the next street.

A budding young artist................................

A girl from the Florida Wildlife Organization.

Mr. Magnificent Vulture.

Poor Mrs. Turkey just wanted to go home and sleep

A Kite

A children's dance troupe

R2 D2 I guess. Hmmmmmmm? Well, this guy was having fun anyway.

Best costume there. This young boy was scaring the stuff out of the smaller kids. He had a creature on his shoulder that moved with a cord behind his back.

The Amtrack goes right through town. I have never been on a train. Ships, planes, trollys, etc. but no trains. My dream is to someday take a trip on the Orient Express.

Bye, Bye train.

My own Mr. Wonderful who puts up with my oddities and idiosyncrities...syncra...syn...well, you know. We had a pressed cuban at the Grotto Cafe, sidewalk style.

We did the John's Pass Seafood Festival Sunday but took no photos. It was the same ol, same ol, but I had a fantastic grouper sandwich. And hey....it's stone crab season. Yum!

That's all folks.

I'll be back.

Maybe.

Probably.

Don't forget to vote.

GETTING SCARY AROUND HERE

2010-10-28T18:15:00.001-04:00

I am fortunate to have a job where I can work at home. This morning I was doing just that, busy on the computer, in my jammies, when my better half came in from the store and said excitedly, "There's a giant yard sale around the corner and I stopped and they have something you want and they are holding it for you!" So........I had to get dressed and go. Some of you know I collect artsy little mirrors, and this is what he found for me.

I love it! It will look great on the wall with my other mirrors. I put a paper over the mirror to prevent the flashback from the camera but I think you can tell what it is. The colors are true peacock colors. I am going to put glitter on the headfeathers Gotta have glitter! Yard sale find, three bucks!!

So I kept looking and here is what else I got....

This is a wonderful book only a little over a hundred pages, full of scary stories. How perfect for Halloween! The stories are flash fiction, most only one or two pages long, and really silly/scary/fun. Mostly though, I bought it for the pencil artwork. Look!

Isn't she just, um, beautiful? This gorgeous doll is from a story titled The Haunted House. I haven't read it yet. Sorta scared to!

This dinky house in the woods is from a story titled The Guests. It's a story about a young couple on a trip and it was getting dark, and they saw a small house in the woods. They knocked on the door to see if they could rent a room. Of course they spent the night and the old couple who lived there would not take any money. In the morning they left and assumed the old couple was still asleep, so they left an envelope on the table with money in it. When they got to their destination they found out that house had burned to the ground a long time ago and the man and woman who lived there had died in the fire. Later on the way home, they passed the house, burned out. But in the rubble they saw a partially burned table, and their envelope with money in it was there. Cute scary, huh?

Some more of the pencil art:

And my favorite, a drawing from The Attic

I'm not sure I would want to go up these stairs to this attic. I can just hear them creaking. And who knows what might be on the other side of that door!

What a fun little book. I'm easily amused. Yard sale find, fifty cents!

Hope you have a Happy Halloween. Saturday we are going to Ybor City to Guavaween (Google it), and Sunday to the John's Pass Seafood and Art fesitval at the beach. I'll try to take some pictures.

Remember not to let your pet get into your Halloween candy. Chocolate overdose can give your pet a heart attack from too much caffein, and raisins can cause dogs to have kidney failure! Love those pets!!

COLOR

2010-10-20T20:08:00.002-04:00

The Artist extracts from Nature to paint her canvas.

Robin's egg blue splashes across her skies,

Red from a Cardinal's flaming crown,

Orange of an Oriole's breast to wipe a sunset over the scene.

The pink of a Peony,

A yellow Daffodil,

Greens and browns of the earth fused onto the end of her brush

Creating a masterpiece.

Color. A gift of Nature.

NATURE WAS HER PASSION

Pastel

UNEXPECTED PLEASURES

2010-10-03T13:46:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, if you go out early in the morning when the sun has just risen, you can see and hear nature in a way that it does not present itself later in the day. This morning was cool, breezy, and I found one of those unexpected treasures.

Two magnificant white ibis were standing on the telephone wires in the corner of the back yard, surveying the neighborhood. Now ibis are not really an unusual sight in Florida. In fact a flock of them, brown and white, feed on my front yard frequently. Unlike some of our neighbors who have picture-perfect manicured green lawns, ours has bugs! We don't often use chemicals on our lawn. Only in flea season. So the ibis, and other birds, visit us to dig for beetles and worms, and other such yummy creatures. But I seldom see them perched high. I think these two were deciding which bug-infested natural yard to visit today. Thanks Mr. & Mrs. Ibis, for making my morning pleasant!

You are beautiful!

GOT MILK?

2010-09-21T18:56:00.000-04:00

THIS IS TOTALLY SPOILED ROTTEN "DADDY'S GIRL" ROXIE, JUST TURNED AGE 6.
BEGS FOR FOOD
WHINES FOR ATTENTION
GETS IT!

FAT LITTLE BIRDS

2010-09-11T14:16:00.001-04:00

IF YOU WALK IN THE PARK

AND YOU COME UPON A FAT LITTLE BIRD

SITTING ON A BRANCH,

WOULD YOU ASK HIM TO SING?

AND, IF HE WERE A SONGBIRD AND HE SANG,

WOULD YOU FEEL PEACEFUL? SPIRITUAL?

WALK A LITTLE FURTHER.

FIND A FAT LITLE BIRD SITTING ON A STONE STATUE.

DO YOU THINK THE STONE STATUE WILL FEED YOU, FAT LITTLE BIRD?

CAN YOU SING FOR YOUR SUPPER?

I LOVE FAT LITTLE BIRDS.

FREE VERSE

2010-09-06T14:16:00.001-04:00

HAIKU

2010-09-01T18:58:00.003-04:00

MY PERSONAL FACEBOOK, NO MEMBERSHIP REQUIRED

2010-08-29T16:39:00.001-04:00

After visiting KATE and checking out her slideshows of wonderful painted and pencil faces, and thanks to the encouraging comments here from friends, I decided to chase down that evasive muse and finish up a little book I started awhile ago when I was doing a "heart" swap. I had made little heart books and made one too many, so started using it to paint faces. Here they are, finally finished.

4 x 4 made from watercolor paper

I'LL TEACH YOU TO FLY

A LITTLE PERPLEXED

THIS IS NOT NESTING MATERIAL

UNTITLED

I THINK I'M GETTING ANGRY

SPIRITUAL

SAD ABOUT SOMETHING

(INSPIRED BY UNKNOWN MURALIST)

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS

SPIRITUAL SISTERS (paper glazed)

Th...Th....Th...That's all folks!

Thanks, Porky Pig!

ABSOLUTE WHIMSEY

2010-08-26T15:32:00.002-04:00

My muse seems to have left me permanently and I scratch for ideas and incentive. I went to the dollar store to find a new painting surface, since I really can't find the pennies to purchase new canvas right now, and I am tired of paper. I got a 7x9 panel that was covered in a paper something or other picture, sanded it gently, and got out the gesso. Then I had a new painting surface for a buck, and it even had the hanger already attached. NOT that I would hang this silly thing but it did keep me busy for quite awhile. I have to admit, I am not fond of using those "one-hair" brushes for fine work. I'd much rather use pen or pastel that I can control with my hand.

Since my muse didn't cooperate, I got out an old pen and ink drawing...

and decided to do a similar "butterfly garden" in color.

This is not me. I don't do whimsey like this. I don't normally do paintings by just plopping something down here and there without pulling it all together somehow. I am beginning to think I really should just give it up. Yet I keep trying to find my creative self again. How many times have I thought about closing down
Sans Souci and giving away my paints and brushes.......again! It wouldn't be the first time.

Did you notice the baby flew? From the nest to the ground, then up to the railing, and the last I saw of him he was flying up to the roof where momma was patiently waiting. It was fun watching her teach him. I know, I know, there's an orb on momma. But I took the photo thru the window on a rainy evening, so I'll just chalk that orb up to a raindrop on the glass, or a flash reflection. Nothing supernatural there.

THE DOG DAYS OF SUMMER....

2010-08-19T18:18:00.002-04:00

.....are upon us. In the 1500's, the ancient Romans believed the star Sirius, aka the Dog Star, caused heat to come upon the earth in the summer when it came into the same longitude as the sun, and they believed that dogs went mad during this period of time.

Well, mine doesn't, but she does pant a lot.

In the northern hemisphere, the 1/2 of the earth north of the equator suffers from this heat. It isn't just global warming. It's always been this way, although it sure does seem a bit hotter when it hits 98 degrees in Florida. And it isn't a dog star, it's because the earth is tilted towards that heat. I don't recall when I was 11 or 12, that 98 degrees felt this hot. Was that just youth?

So I look forward to September when this Dog Star moves along and I can cool my body temperature down from raging furnace to perhaps a simple campfire. Meanwhile, I hide in the cool of the A/C, away from the sun and it's companion dog star, and make some simple art like this collage of a lady, who is on cool black background paper, and wearing cool blue. Ahhhhhhh!

I'm not looking forward to getting my power bill this month. Yikes!!!!

CARCHARODON CARCHARIAS

2010-08-11T13:45:00.002-04:00

Have any of you been watching Shark Week on Nat Geo? OMG, usually it's just about the ho-hum sharks such as the Tiger, Lemon, Reef, Black Tip, etc. etc. This week they featured the magnificant GREAT WHITE. What an awesome creature! These giant monsterous beasts come up from the deep and feed on (mostly) seals, and the momentum of their lunge causes them to breach the water surface entirely. These mega-ton creatures are an awesome sight to see jumping out of the water.

I did not know the Great White was an endangered animal. It has been on the list since 2004. They are the largest predatory fish and sometimes weigh up to 5,000 pounds.

Most people think they are mindless killing machines, but not so. They are very selective in their food. They come up and "taste" first to see if they want to come back and gobble. They can smell a drop of blood a mile away. They have sensors in their head that recognizes the heartbeat of fish. They recognize the shapes of such prey as seals. That's why surfers sometimes get attacked. From below, their surfboard with legs dangling over resemble a seal.

Most people also think Great Whites are confined to cold waters. Also not true. They come into the Gulf of Mexico when the water temp reaches around 60 degrees, like January. And they are getting more and more acclimated to the warmer waters. I also did not know they visited our Gulf Beaches...well, out a little ways. Mostly around here we see Bulls and Hammerheads, plus the various and sundry other kinds; the smaller nurse shark, the "sort of" harmless sand shark. Florida no longer has a seal population, but we have giant Grouper, a favorite Great White snack!

A secret: I have not been swimming in the Gulf or the Atlantic since I saw Jaws years ago! And now that I know Great Whites come here, I will not be changing my swim habits.

But, aren't they absolutely beautiful?

I have a few treasured sharks teeth I picked up on the beach over the years.

I can identify a couple as Bull and Tiger (probably) but most I don't know what they are. Just shark's teeth. No Great Whites. I'm told the black ones are very, very old. The brown and grey are still young. Not necessarily young sharks, just young to the beach.

My biggest treasure is this:

I THINK it is a Megalodon, which has been extinct for over a million years. I've asked an expert on the internet, but have not heard back yet. I only know that it is very, very, very old. And it came from one BIG shark! You can see it is well worn on the sides and the pointed tip is worn completely smooth and rounded by the action of the water and sand that tumbled it for many, many years before depositing it on the beach for my eyes to find.

UPDATE: I HEARD BACK FROM CRAIG AT http://www.fossil-treasures-of-florida.com/

and he told me that it does look like a small Megalodon tooth. Imagine that!

I love sharks. They are part of our planet and Mother Nature's pets. I also respect them. A lot!

shark photos courtesy the internet

A QUICK READ WITH YOUR COFFEE......FLASH QUICK!

2010-08-04T12:23:00.002-04:00

RIDDLES AND TRICKS

   Three separate streets are within my view when I sit in my porch rocker. My house, with its paint faded from the intense sun, sits at an intersection where these three meet. Just under the sidewalk edge at this intersection, there are three wide-mouthed open storm drains facing each other in a sort of triangle, letting rainwater rush full force down into the dark bowels of the storm system. I recall as a child always walking faster past these cavernous drains. You know, kid imagination and all. Mostly my neighborhood of pastel-colored cookie cutter houses has the older generation living here. Maybe we sort of gravitated together because it’s quiet. A lot of us sit on our look-alike porches, and watch the dog walkers, the wishful thinking pseudo exercisers, or the birds hopping around the spot where we entice them with grocery store seeds. That’s what I was doing when “the incident” happened. After being cooped up inside for two long rainy days, the air felt comfortably fresh and cool. It was a pleasant evening, and I didn’t even need a shawl to cover my fragile, 87 year old frame.

   A small dog wandered by, sniffing at trees and bushes as he passed, so intent on identifying previous bush wetters that he never even noticed me. I clucked to myself, mentally criticizing his unknown owner for letting him run free. There is a leash law, after all! And if he was fenced, they -the unnamed owner- should have at least made sure the gate was secure. Tch. Tch. I reached for another handful of store-bought birdseed as the dog sniffed around the nearest storm drain. The large, slime-encrusted hand that reached out from the opening under the sidewalk grabbed his slender legs, and before he could resist or yelp, he disappeared right into that drain. You laugh? I know what I saw! I’m not senile. No, just because I walk with a cane and have major wrinkles and spend my days sitting and observing, doesn’t mean I’m senile. It wasn’t some sort of trick and there is no riddle to find an answer to here. I know what I saw!

   That was yesterday. I watched intently from the porch, my heart beating loudly, for probably an hour and never saw the dog again, or the hand either. If I tell someone I’m sure they won’t believe me. They’ll just say “Oh, grandma”, or “Oh, Mrs. Lantry, you were just imagining that.” So no, I’ve told no one except you. But last night I locked doors that I don’t usually lock. And I sat inside my house by the window and watched that storm drain until it got too dark to see. I won’t be sitting outside in my porch rocker any more. Ever.

FROM UNSIGHTLY TO GRACEFULLY BEAUTIFUL

2010-08-01T15:29:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I found this little unsightly dude crawling up the garage door. At first I didn't know what it was. I actually got a magnifying glass so I could see its details. Then I realized it was a caterpillar. A BIG caterpillar.

I had never seen a caterpillar that large, or without hairs. He was just a bit "icky". So I raced into the house to get my camera (sure, raced, like a caterpillar is going to zoom away somewhere in a hurry), took his pic, then raced back to my computer and Googled "big fat yellow caterpillar". His picture came up immediately. Much clearer than this photo.

This little fella is going to turn into:

THIS graceful beauty! A spicebush swallowtail butterfly. I am constantly amazed at what Mother Nature can do.

I had these woven watercolor strips backing another piece of art.

I took it all apart, rewove some of them, and did this missy on top.

She is unfinished and has no real purpose, yet I have no clue what else to do to her. Sometimes I think I get tired of paper arts and want to go back to oil and landscapes, but I got rid of all my oil paints long ago. Who can afford to stock up again...with oils and canvas too? Expensive! I guess I will just stick to experimenting for now.

Ms. Dove is still on the porch light. It is so stifling HOT up there next to the porch ceiling, I don't know how she stands it. There is no circulation up there. She's a good little momma. I speak to her whenever I go in and out and she turns her little round head and watches me. I'm sure any neighbors walking by think I'm nuts, talking to a porch light....but they don't know about the little secret nest. If the crows can't find it, the neighbors sure can't. Ms. Dove and I have an understanding.

INHERITING INTERESTING THINGS

2010-07-25T15:03:00.002-04:00

These are a few things that belonged to my sweet mother-in-law. They have been stored away at her place since her passing a few years ago. Since she was a smoker, and her other son living in her home now is also, they needed a LOT of cleaning, but I'm getting there slowly, now that these things are at my home.

First up, this lovely lamp. It's really a night light, because it can only handle a very small watt bulb. I had to use a Q-tip to clean in all the tiny places but now it's shiny nice and I think it's lovely.

Next up another lamp. This one is even sweeter, and larger. The figures are playing musical instruments. I have not cleaned this one yet, and you can see it isn't bright and shiny, but it will be soon.

A lovely Madonna painting. Unfortunately the flash from the camera dulls it here, but it really is pretty. It is not an original painting, but rather printed on cardboard; I suppose a predecessor of the modern Giclee, but I still think it's nice, and my husband says he remembers it hanging in their home when he was a child. It seems to be a detail of a larger painting, but I don't know from where. Do you?

A cloth sampler. The picture and words are all hand-stitched. It's framed, so the camera flash interfered, but you can still see what it's like. I don't know for sure but I'm betting my mother-in-law stitched it when she was a young girl, because she lived mostly in a boarding school since her importer/exporter parents traveled out of the country a lot. I want to take it out of the frame and clean it. Has anyone ever cleaned a sampler like this? Can I just hand wash it in gentle soap?

And...a small original landscape oil painting that also needs to be cleaned. I'll have to research that to find out what to use. The camera flash also made a glare on this. It's a little country road going around a bend and behind the trees. The signature is J.P. Gruet, dated 1933. I have no clue who this is, and it really needs a better frame.

Oh, and last but definitely not least,

I believe I have inherited a dove. Not from my mother-in-law, but I think it's the same one I posted about in the "glitter room" a couple of months ago. She and her hunny have been working very hard today to rebuild that nest on the porch light, so I guess we will be having more babies! I love the way doves build their nests. So haphazard and artzy looking, and it looks like it will just fall apart, but it doesn't. I'll give progress reports on her!

Be peaceful.

SIMPLE ART TO PASS THE TIME

2010-07-21T18:54:00.000-04:00

A blue folder I keep some of my short stories and poetry in was looking kind of blah, and I had a little time today, so I collaged on it. The background is a photocopy of a Chuhuly glass exhibit I got from the paper, enhanced with a bit more color, and cut into a heart shape. Of course, Chuhuly's glass art needs no enhancing, but a photocopy does! The girl is a photocopy of a drawing I did experimenting with water soluble oil pastels on w/c paper. I kind of like them, but only for small drawings. The crow is a photocopy of a drawing done with watercolor crayon, also experimenting, with a paper glaze overlay. Not as interesting to work with as w.s. oil pastels. After they were glued onto the folder cover, I slathered it with Mod Podge to seal it. I figured it was ruined because the paper buckled, but after it dried it was flat and ok. Whew!

A glass heart, a girl and a crow. I don't know how they are related, but it isn't as boring as the plain blue. She's a little toothy though. :) I wonder what the crow is screeching about?

Wishing you peace and love in your days.

SUMMER

2010-07-13T10:56:00.001-04:00

Moments before dawn

Breathe deeply

Take in the heat laden air

filled with the heavy scent of blooming jasmine

In nearby trees cicadas already calling

The air full of their monotone vibrations

A night heron leaves a brief melodic trail as it flies home

Songbirds awake

Get closer to the blooms and hear the buzzing of the bees

already feeding on the flowers' inner sanctum

Still too dark to see their tiny flying forms

Before the sun sets twice

the soft white jasmine petals will leave the branches bare

covering the ground below like a sparse layer of new snow

And the cycle will begin again

PRAYER FLAG

2010-07-08T10:47:00.002-04:00

As quite a few others are doing, I have made my prayer flag for the Gulf of Mexico oil spill. I believe in prayer, some, although I don't profess to know if prayer will help this horrid problem. The prayer flags are based on the prayer Dr. Emoto has sent out. He believes prayer can change water. I don't know about that. Some people think Dr. Emoto is a fake. I only know that
1. Water crystals are beautiful, and
2. Prayer can't hurt.
Thus said, here is my prayer flag.

I cannot hang my flag outdoors in my yard or over at the beach, because this is our rainy season. It would be destroyed in a matter of hours by the daily thunderstorms. So I have chosen to hang it from an actual painting of the Gulf which I did a few years ago from a photograph I took of North Redington Beach. It hangs in my hallway so every time I pass, my thoughts go to the prayer. Maybe it will help.

Detail

Prayer Detail

Detail

It would certainly be nice to miraculously have a clean ecosystem again here on the west coast of Florida, but then who knows...maybe it doesn't even really matter, if one believes in the Mayan calendar.

TEN MINUTE FICTION

2010-06-30T21:04:00.000-04:00

A STORY WITH NO END

The songbird's trill filtered almost visibly through the branches and gently dancing greenery of the tall forest pines, as if he were staking out his territory against possible intruders. His song moved as the wind moves, in and out of the branches, tickling the leaves, and changing force and tune every few minutes. After a few more echoing notes, his wings suddenly lifted and he was gone, as quickly and quietly as he had come. Except for the whispering breezes that moved the highest leaves in the twinkling sunlight, the tallest reaches of the forest was silent again.

At the base of the trees the short, sparse wild grass, unable to grow thick stalks because of the unreliability of enough sunlight reaching through the thickness of the trees, lay flat under the feet of the small animal that rummaged through the sticks and leaves searching for food. The grass sprang back up, alert as a sentry, as the animal passed by. The swift running current of a narrow rocky stream wound its way around jagged rocks covered with green algae, bubbling and caressing the edges of the rocks as if they were the lips of passing lovers soon to be gone around the next curve. The moist ground along the banks of the stream was cool, clean, unravaged by disaster and turmoil, as yet untouched by man.

Several hundred miles to the west, in a place where man had already been, a thin, almost shadow of a man stood on a narrow strip of salt and pepper sand. As his light colored hair blew in little whirlwinds, his blue eyes squinted out over the vast expanse of water, watching the sun begin to lower itself onto the distant horizon. The water lapped against the shore near his feet and the cloudless sky overhead darkened as if a giant theater light was being slowly turned down in stages. Fading streaks of orange and pink and deepest blue lay across the distant sky. The man was dressed in light colored trousers and a loose fitting shirt, both of which moved against his body as the wind shifted around his slight form, like laundry hanging on a clothesline on a breezy day. His narrow face was weathered, older than his years, telling of long hours and much passing time working outdoors in the sun. Barefoot, he carried his simple sandals in one hand. His friends called him Jack, and he was a man of few words.

As he stood there in the back end of the day, Jack thought of when he was a boy of about ten, nearly twenty years ago now. He lived near this beach then, and it was much wider and pristine white. He remembered it was so white the sun made the tiny sand particles glisten as if they were mixed with diamond dust. He stood there recalling his joy building sand castles, running and jumping on the skimboard, surf fishing with his dad. Doing the stingray shuffle (he did get stung once), riding his bike home before it got too dark. This had been his playground, his back yard. He now had a little difficulty letting his mind wrap around the fact that twenty years had gone by! Jack turned his back to the water and let his eyes skim over the land behind him. He remembered the marshy grasses with brown pelicans nesting. He thought of all the gulls he had chased relentlessly as boys do, delighting in their swift escape. His mind wandered over the crabs he carefully caught, picking them up just right so as not to get his fingers pinched, taking them home to his mom's boil pot. He stood there letting his memory savor the taste of the tender white crabmeat, the sweetness of the memory causing his salivary glands to activate, reminding him he was a little hungry. Life was good then. They were not a rich family, for they lived off the waters that his dad's fishing boat traveled, and fishermen never get rich. But life was good.

And then the oil came.

It crept up onto the beach and into the marshes like a silent, stealthy plague, wreaking havoc in its path. Jack remembered the acrid smell, brought to his nostrils on the ever-present ocean breeze. He didn't know what it was the first time he smelled it. But it was not long before he was told of the horror of the leaking underwater pipeline gushing the thick black crude into the pristine waters. In his mind's eye, he could still see the sweet meaty crabs covered with black scum, slowly dying on the beach. All kinds of fish washed ashore, along with air-breathing dolphins that had come to the surface to breathe, and sucked killing oil into their blowholes. Sharks moved in and out of the shallows, seeking fresh water and clean prey. Jellyfish, transparent filter feeders black with ingested oil, washed up and lay in the sun dying. The people of the area were shocked and devastated, and cried out to the world for help. Marsh grasses died, their roots unable to get the sun and oxygen needed for growth, for life. Frogs, alligators, even the tiniest of grass snails were covered in black slime, the life smothered out of them. Seabirds floundered and died, their feathers stuck together, unable to fly out of the danger. Covered in oil, they floated in the surf in the sun and high temperatures, the oil becoming hotter and hotter until they suffocated from the additional heat. And still the oil came.

Jack's beach had been inundated with news people, and at ten years old he could just begin to understand the domino effect the oil would have on the fishing and other industries. He had been just a boy, after all, and boys don't think about much except being boys. Then, his own father, after months and months of not being able to fish, not being able to provide for his family, became a broken, sad man. People said it would take decades to repair the damage. As he looked around now at his once beautiful beach, he thought to himself that decades had been an understatement. It has already been two decades, and still there is only death and loneliness here. It had not helped that a hurricane came and pushed the oil even further into the marshes and into the freshwater rivers, spraying it over the land so that everything it touched had a slick, shiny rainbow appearance. No more could Jack find the tiny, bio luminescent micro organisms that would flash in the dark, delighting the boys that splashed in the surf at night. They should have said never, he thought. Never would it be repaired!

And the oil continued to flow. It flowed south to more beaches. The thick underwater plumes followed the currents all the way to the beautiful, endangered coral reefs, and sank over them, smothering and killing their beauty and the life that teemed among them. Over the years, the migratory fish that survived changed their route and no longer inhabited these waters. The blue fin tuna, for centuries using these waters as their breeding grounds, had not been seen in many years. Loggerheads no longer laid their eggs in sandy nests along these beaches. Businesses failed and closed, tourists stayed away. Life as Jack knew it as a boy no longer existed. And he stood now, looking at his boyhood love, his own backyard, and silently wept.

Many hours later, and several hundred miles toward the east, the songbird returned to his branch in the tallest of the forest pines. The sun began to rise, bringing its life and warmth to the land, and slivers of light ran like quicksilver through the spaces between the leaves and branches, gradually bringing light to the forest floor. The delicate leaves and pine needles moved with the gentle breeze, tiny ballerina dancers practicing for a recital to be performed for the forest creatures. The songbird began his prelude, and his soft feathered chest swelled with a symphony of happy song. On the ground near the rocky stream, a small animal foraged for his breakfast. Suddenly, he stood quietly alert, his little ears pushing forward to listen intently. The songbird became silent. The wind ceased to dance the leaves, as they lowered themselves to hug the branches. In the distance a loud buzzing noise broke into the peace of nature. Voices shouted, and suddenly a loud, crashing sound as something hit the ground, hard, the noise reverberating through the forest, causing the ground to tremble and shake. The songbird took flight, the small foraging animal scattered, his tiny heart beating with fear as he looked for a place to hide. In the distance, the buzzing started again, the voices, followed by another earth-shaking crash, as the loggers worked their way toward the forest sanctuary, laying the ground bare behind them. Man had come to the forest.

*****************************************************************************

COLLAGES & A LESSON LEARNED

2010-06-24T10:30:00.008-04:00

I participated in a 6x6 collage swap facilitated by Janet and Lee

and was paired with my long time glittersister friend KATE.

The first two beautiful bird collages are what Kate made for me. I love birds and she knows it, so that makes them extra special because she thought of my interests when she made them.

Love it!

Love it! It's like a water dancer ballet.

NOW, here's the lesson learned. I made this owl collage (not part of the swap) using a preprinted background from an advertising brochure. But, after I glued on the owls, I wanted to add a moon behind the top two, so I glued one on. I failed to take into consideration the preprinted background had a treeline, and I put the moon in front of the treeline. What???? Didja ever?? Nah. So, since the glue I was using had already dried I couldn't remove the moon, and I cut a million and a half tiny leaves and put them on the topmost branches and tried to hide the edges of the moon. Nope! Duh! Too cluttered. And discarded.

So, the moral of this long, drawn-out tale is ....well, ........ look before you leap?? Be sure before you glue?? Pay attention?? Don't be in such a hurry to get finished?? I think it's kind of like "measure twice, cut once". I've made that mistake plenty of times.

....and these are the two collages I did for the swap and sent to Kate.....

SEEKING

SUMMER

Hmmmmmm, maybe I'll paint today. Or maybe not. xoxoxo

THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER

2010-06-21T17:01:00.003-04:00

And it brings to mind the haunting summer song "SUMMERTIME" which I present here in it's twisted, present day version, with thanks or perhaps apologies to, the music of George Gershwin and original lyrics by DuBose Heyward. Can you hear the melody in your mind? Can you feel the summer heat?

SUMMERTIME..... AND THE LIVIN'S NOT EASY,

FISH AIN'T SWIMMIN'

AND THE MARSHES AREN 'T HIGH.

BIG OIL DADDY'S RICH,

HIS BANK ACCOUNT IS GOOD LOOKIN'

BUT HUSH LITTLE BABY,

DON'T YOU CRY.

ONE OF THESE MORNINGS

YOU'RE GONNA RISE UP SINGING

THEN YOU'LL SPREAD YOUR WINGS

AND YOU'LL TAKE TO THE SKY.

BUT TIL THAT MORNING,

THERE'S JUST OIL ALL AROUND YOU

WITH YOUR DADDY AND MOMMY
STANDING BY.

SUMMERTIME......AND THE LIVIN'S NOT EASY........

La,la, Lala,,,,hmmmmm,hmmmmmm,la la

Photo thanks to Greenpeace, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, AP, Getty.

THANK YOU FOR OBLIGING MY ECCENTRICITY.

WHEN ONE TUGS AT A SINGLE THING IN NATURE, HE FINDS IT ATTACHED TO THE REST OF THE WORLD. john muir

2010-06-18T11:28:00.001-04:00

Thank you Robyn

SOMEONE SPECIAL

2010-06-10T07:20:00.000-04:00

This is me and my granddaughter Lindy in August 2007 when I went to Carson City. She was 8 years old then, just a sprite!

This is Lindy today, age 11. She is a member of the Las Vegas Turtles, a Special Olympics Swim Team. In mid-May, she had swim trials in Henderson, Nevada and won a silver medal. Last week she and Aunt Alecia traveled to Reno for the finals. Lindy won a silver AND a gold medal.

The gentleman behind her is a police officer who was there as a community service function. Aunt Alecia has now become a Special Olympics coach. I am so proud of both of them. Lindy's mom would be especially proud too.

I love you Lindy!

A NEW START

2010-06-06T16:41:00.001-04:00

It has been over two years since I have had a blog. It's time to jump back in, so I'm giving it a try. No promises I'll keep it up. I'll see how it goes. I thought I would start off with a little FUN! This photo is a Queen palm. Well, it WAS a Queen palm. Seven years ago when we moved to this house it was much prettier, and we tried to keep it going, but it was already full of woodpecker holes. Nearly every day the woodies visited just to keep the tree fully holed I guess! Anyhow, even though we gave it lots of TLC, it finally dropped its fronds. Then it began to curl. Then it curled some more. I've never seen a tree do this before. It will soon be cut down, but don'tcha wonder if it will come "full circle"?

Have you ever seen a tree do this? :)