Happy, non-controversial distraction

I share my latest painting with you—to prove that I do, indeed, spend time in pursuits other than profiling my fellow grocery shoppers. (If you're confused, then you might want to refer to my previous post.)

Stay warm. Unless you're reading this from a balmy, sunny place. If that's the case, then please send my plane ticket—pronto.

Embracing the ides of January

I've been flying rather high since I survived the holidays. And look at that calendar—it's the middle of January already! We've been comfortably busy with normal life such as school and related functions, church activities, and even the highly likely sale of one of our old cars. Just enough excitement for me. I feel alive, but in a good way; I'm not drowning in fattening, befuddling festivities. I am thankful.

Here's the latest painting, created from a photo that I took of (what else?) cute animals from North Woods Ranch. I needed a rest from dog paintings, which were—happily for me—popular as commissioned Christmas gifts. (Piggies are for sale in my Etsy shop.)

The days, they're gettin' longer! (Say it with me, in an affected Scottish brogue. Wasn't that fun?)

A little glimpse of warmer days

These three were clucking around at my sisters' house one day last summer. The sun was warm, the sound of their chatter was soothing, and I snapped a photo in hopes of preserving the moment.

Not quite the same as being there in person, but still powerful enough to evoke a vague essence of balmier days...

It's for sale in my Etsy shop. Now I'm off to start the next one! Carpe diem, right?

Butternut Lovely

Fair Butternut, thy beauty pales

Near rounder cousins—orange, bright—

Yet all alone, thy shape and hue

Shine perfectly in their own right.

(I"ve always rooted for the "under-squash.")

This one was done quickly, from real life. It's for sale in my shop. Hope you are enjoying a beautiful fall day, as am I!

Doggedly making my way

Hello! Here is a dog painting I squeezed in recently. His name is Jack. Don't you just want to fondle his ears?

Life goes on, and the leaves change colors, then stiff breezes blow them down from their branches into the yard and driveway. Suddenly, I'm smelling pine and dry grass and wood smoke. There are a plethora of Octoberfest activities from which to choose; I have yet to make it to one of them. Family health concerns and serious discussions of all sorts have sapped my enthusiasm for autumn.

Still, it's here. And it is a thing of beauty—even if you're oblivious most of the time. Let's both try to notice it today. Deal?

Busy, busy

The days fly by during this time of year. There are too many places to be, school- and sport-related tasks for my little dude, garden items to harvest and preserve, a filthy home that begs for attention, a misbehaving cat who may or may not have an intestinal disorder, and the quiet but insistent footfalls of autumn as it nears...

I finished a couple of paintings recently—one a commission of a neighbor's pet kitty, and the other just for me because I liked it (a nuthatch, in case you're not familiar with that type of bird). I made salsa, twice. And froze some tomato sauce. Next on the list? Peeling apples for apple butter, in between layers of paint on an old wooden chest that needs a facelift.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll force myself to get registered on LinkedIn in an attempt to drum up some freelance proofreading. I so prefer the painting and preserving; if only those pastimes paid better. Sigh.

Long weekend thoughts

Last summer, we spent an extended weekend in Cape May, NJ. I love that place. (I wrote about that visit here, and I even featured the same seagull that's shown above, but in photographic format instead of acrylics; just scroll down if you do click on that link, because the gull photo's at the bottom.)

Now that Memorial Day is upon us (don't forget to hang an American flag if you don't display one already!), I have begun thinking summer thoughts. Many folks head beachward for the big weekend. Sadly, we will not be among the beach-bound, but perhaps we can finish some half-completed home projects in between barbecues?

I finished this painting a couple of days ago. He's for sale in my Etsy shop. This made for a prettier picture than another gull image that's seared in my brain; on that particularly memorable occasion, while enjoying our lunch at an outdoor cafe, we observed a gang of sea gulls attacking a beachgoer's bags of unsecured snacks, then devouring them... only to find out later that the victims of the thievery were staying in our bed and breakfast. Poor folks. They hadn't learned, yet, the incredible damage a flock of seagulls can wreak.

Gulls are very smart birds; experts train them to do all sorts of tricks at the National Aviary on the North Side of Pittsburgh. I could digress here, and lead into a rant about birds being smarter than some bird-brained individuals I keep encountering... but I don't want to lay that on you when there's an important holiday, and another long weekend, winking at us all. So, gulls are smart. I'll leave it at that.

Thank a veteran for service. Thank another in honor of those who lost lives while serving; pray for those who've come back and brought injuries and anguish with them. This cushy realm we call America could not exist without their sacrifice.

(Although, if the current leadership keeps up its relentless efforts to kill the freedoms I love through lies, deception, and the systematic dismantling of the Constitution, our cushy realm will completely cease to exist... Oops. There I go again.)

I really have done more than paint...

...but all the other stuff I've been doing is ongoing and never "finished" and, hence, there is nothing to show for my labors. Thus, I show you these creations.

Birthdays, yard work, house projects, Mother's Day, etc. have all been sweeping us into a vortex of busy, and I realized yesterday, with speechless awe, that there remain only 4 weeks of school.

Good heavens! I'd better get busy! Lord knows how little I'll get done with that sweet kid at home.

Take care until next time. Carpe diem! And don't forget your jacket!

P.S. The cat painting features one of our neighbors' kitties. Isn't she regal in her repose?

Critters on canvas

Two recent paintings I've done have found their way to their permanent locations, so now I may post photos of them. One is a belted galloway cow, painted for a lovely lady whom I've never met. (The cow now lives in Texas.) And the nasty hyena? That one was a special request for my son, who simply adores savage, vicious wild-dog types (from a distance, on a page or screen, of course). He'll be able to admire this one's hideousness daily, since it's hanging in his room.

It's funny; whenever I'm painting an animal—or depicting it in any medium—I am forced to really examine the subject's body, and I usually end up seeing some trait that I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't studied it for myself. A hyena's legs, for example: I looked and looked at the legs in the source photo, and they honestly were that long and ungainly looking. The front legs are noticeably taller than the back ones, as well. And the cow? Every single time I paint one, I am reminded anew that a cow's ears are not nearly as high on their heads as I think they should be. Is the cow morphing into a horse inside my mind? Why do I keep trying to put the ears on top instead of on the sides?

Anyway. That's what I've been up to—when I had a choice, anyway. ; )

Enjoy the sunshine if you, like me, are blessed enough to have it shining in your midst today.

Signs of spring

Here's the latest painting: a hoppity little fellow. Easter's approach always connotes the images of bunnies for me, probably for most of us. After wondering about the origins of the tradition, I read somewhere that Easter's pagan beginnings had a sharp focus on fertility. Heck, what's a better example of that than rabbits? Hence the "Easter Bunny." Weird. The savior of the world was raised from the dead, and we hide eggs (more fertility symbols) and give credit to a long-eared, madly breeding furball.

I have seen a few bunnies scrambling frantically in my evening headlights of late. Guess they're starting to get bored in those burrows, too.

Anyway. The painting is for sale in my Etsy shop.

I'll resume muttering at the stubborn snow now.

Dog days of winter

The last two commissions I've painted have been dogs, beloved pets. (I forgot to post this one—it's been with its proper owner for a week or two now.) Shown here is my interpretation of a much-loved, now deceased collie named Petey.

I just finished the more recent pup yesterday, but the client hasn't seen it yet, so I'll keep it to myself until it's safely in her paws—I mean, in her hands.

If anyone out there wants a custom pet painting, I'm your girl! Just let me know. People surely do adore their fuzzy companions.

Precious is definitely related to fleeting

Our neighborhood is in a bit of flux. Two of our close neighbors who happen to live right beside each other are both trying to sell their homes at the same time. It's not because there's a neighborhood flaw (it's a great little street); it just happened that way. Which, of course, makes the prospect of slapping our home on the market anytime soon seem like a pretty poor idea. Small street, fewer than 12 homes total, and three of them for sale simultaneously? Not a good scenario. Alas, we stay put and wait to see what unfolds... (Which feels like the story of my life lately... but I digress.)

The entire point of this post, however, is not real estate markets. It's the idea that when we see an approaching end to something, then that thing begins to gain meaning and perhaps even value. For example, take our neighbors who are trying to move: one of the two homes seems to have found a buyer, and now I find that I feel sad and melancholy when I see the sellers walking their little dog. Each walk they take probably boils down to one of the last times I'll witness them strolling with the little guy (pictured here in a painting I just finished—would anyone out there like a commissioned pet portrait?)

I wanted to paint a portrait of their pup regardless, just because he's so darned cute and they've been such great neighbors. Now, it looks as if the painting might end up being a parting gift. When big upheavals are imminent and impending, small moments and glimpses are loaded with sentimental weight. I suppose I'm realizing that one more familiar thing that I took for granted is likely going away. We can keep in touch, but it won't be the same—it never is. Something I assumed was a given will soon be taken. And that in itself makes me examine the soon-to-be-taken in a totally different light. Is that true for everyone? Is it human to re-evaluate everything right before, or even right after, it is removed from one's realm?

Art, and life

I finished this painting last week, but couldn't post it because of the operating system issues we were having. (We're still having them, but since they have not yet directly affected my husband's life, they are not yet being addressed. Sigh.) (Yes, I realize I should probably try to address them myself. I wish I had more than a misguided clue.)

So. I love female cardinals, and this little gal was so alert. She looked sort of like a gossip, not necessarily a mean-spirited type, but the bird who simply loves to share news of the neighborhood. Our pal Tom takes the best photos; this image was inspired from one of his beautiful works. It's for sale in the Etsy shop.

In unrelated news, my little guy is getting big. Filling out, solid limbs, visible muscle definition in legs now... It's freaking me out. As most parents do in times such as these, I suppose, I am recalling with fondness and nostalgia (and teary eyes) memories from his very early childhood.

One thing that we talk about frequently is the boy's discovery that most people have more than one eye. We were teaching him body parts, pointing to nose, mouth, ears, and eyes. We'd point to the feature, say the name, do it again, ask him to repeat us--you know the drill. At one point, after we'd done this several times in as many days, my sweet child was showing his new awareness to his father. "Daddee, eye." He pointed to his dad's eyeball, bringing the stubby finger close but not poking him (sometimes that happened). Then all of a sudden, the kid looked in amazement at my husband's entire face, and apparently it was the first holistic study he'd done. He said, with awe and amazement, "Daddee, two eyes!"

We still laugh about it to this day.

Duck, duck... and that's all

You won't find a goose here. I figure they've pretty much taken over every small lake or pond within 50 miles, so if I choose to exclude them from my painting, the population will not be adversely affected whatsoever.

We saw these little ducks at my sister's a few weeks ago. Her family has chickens, ponies, cats, a dog, and the space to accommodate them. The ducklings were adorable, if loose-boweled (I know, I know, too much information) and the chicks had just progressed beyond that ball o' fluff stage, or so I was told. The down-covered darlings were all milling on the kitchen floor, and then in a giant plastic tote that was tall enough to contain them. I took photos like crazy, but those little birds just would not be still. Additionally, the big tote was bright blue and made a terrible background. So, after the fact, I pulled out my artist's license and proceeded to place the ducklings in a more appropriate setting.

If only real life were as easy to alter as art and digital images are. I suppose our memories can do that for us... and often do.

Anyway, the painting will be available in my Etsy shop later today.

Good thing I seized the brushes

Thankfully, I did seize the brushes yesterday, and accomplished two painting tasks: finishing this robin painting, and slapping a couple of coats of green paint on a newly acquired (gently used) bench to extend seating at our dining table. It's a good thing I took care of these jobs when I could, because I'm accomplishing nothing today: Marcus came home from school with a flush in his cheeks, and it morphed overnight into a croupy cough. He's home with me, feeling well enough to want to do all the fun things that healthy kids do, but he doesn't sound great, so I'm trying to squelch his activities as much as possible. Not easy on a breezy, spring-like afternoon.

I'm an artist but not a painter; the bench looks terrible, on not-so-close inspection. If you visit us? Please don't check it too carefully. It's slightly better than the stark white coat it recently wore, BUT...

I'm a bit happier with the robin (Robbie). He's for sale at my shop. Next week, I hope to turn him and his sparrow friend into note cards. Stay tuned!

And yes, the lovely sun and less-than-frigid temps are just a ruse; don't fall for it. Keep the boots and salt handy, but rest assured—soon, we'll be seeing much more of my pal Robbie.

Down time is good

The temp job I've been doing is on hiatus while the client is out of town this week. I've been taking full advantage of the down time: painting (hence the piggy above), blogging, filing and tossing papers, taking stuff to Goodwill, etc. Chris over at Writing by Ear reminded me of the joys of reading, so I actually headed to the library yesterday and got—are you ready for this?—some grown-up books instead of children's books! I'm pretty certain the librarian looked at me askance... she was probably eying my history of check-outs and wondering where I'd hidden my child... OR she phoned the police upon my exit to report a stolen library card.

However, I am proud to say that there are now three real books on my dining room table. A classic (Twain short stories), a favorite (Anne Tyler), and an author I've yet to read who came highly recommended by a good and literate friend (Richard Russo). I am really hoping to crack open one of those beauties this weekend.

I need to make a deliberate effort to unplug and clear my mind instead of filling it with static. It's funny; I've talked to different pals, and most of us suffer from a sort of guilt when we have unscheduled moments. We want to tell people what we're doing, even people we barely know. We don't want to appear lazy, or shiftless, or unmotivated. It's a shame, really, because I am a firm believer in boredom for children; I think kids need to be permitted to achieve boredom in order for them to become self-sufficient and able to entertain themselves. If that's true for kids, wouldn't it also be true for adults? How can I ever think an original thought, or work through a tricky problem, or hear God's still small voice if I am constantly filling every minute with busy-ness and white noise?

It's a difficult state to achieve, inactivity—and even more difficult to maintain. Yet, it's worth the effort, or lack thereof in some cases. I'm going to try to make more unplanned, guilt-free time. Maybe I won't even read those books for a couple of days. Maybe I'll just sit, or stroll, or lounge with a cup of tea under a fuzzy blanket.

I'd better hurry up and do it, though... clothes need to be folded, dinner needs to be planned and made, and I'll be meeting that school bus in less than an hour. Once again, life intervenes.

What I've been up to

The cardinal sat, half-finished, on my easel for months, probably since mid-March. Now, at last, he is free to fly.

And the other came together rather quickly, from real life; the tomatoes and little jack came from our garden.

Fun, fun!

I'm thinking more and more about starting a little shop on Etsy and selling prints and/or notecards featuring some of my favorite paintings. I'll keep you posted.

Hope you're having a lovely autumn.