Love letter: dear magic

Dear magic,There is a carpet I have which came from my grandfather’s house.It’s mostly red with green and orange flowers, and looks like a kind of relic from Victorian times.This kind of carpet used to be quite common but now it seems to be rare.Grandpa said he brought it back from The Orient; a vast and magical place. He said it was a gift from a queen, Queen Sheba, he said.Once almost everyone who wanted a carpet like this one could have one because grandpa said that going to The Orient in search of these carpets was what everyone did.But you had to be careful to find the magi who tended his sheep in the mountains. He was the only one you could buy this sort of carpet from. But as soon as people figured out the tinsiest bit of magic, practically every one tried their luck with the carpets. And it worked! It worked a treat! Soon everyone was packaging their carpets carefully and shipping them to their home countries and started to show them off. Tricks were turned, freedom gained.But not everyone had the knack to make these kinds of carpets properly and, while a good carpet, well cared for, can show a lot of wear and tear over hundreds of years and still function, pretty soon these carpets began to disintegrate. Then accidents began to happen. People died! It became apparent that not all the carpets were alike and that’s when the hunt began. Money exchanged hands like crazy. Fortunes were made. Fortunes were lost.Finally the accidents began to take a toll on families and that’s when a world-wide eradication happened, grandpa said. Everyone was ordered to bundle up their carpets and burn them. There were huge bonfires set up in every village. For the good of our citizens! People shouted, while the bonfires burned into weeks and weeks consuming every last magical thread.So now most of the carpets are gone. Grandpa is gone too, and so is the magi on the mountain. He took his sheep and walked right out of The Orient and no one ever saw him again.All that’s left is this treasured carpet here on my floor...and quite possibly a couple, maybe three, more I heard rumours about. Let me assure you that you will probably never find them unless they want to be found. And I don't think they do because they're so old now.And just to make doubly sure mine will never lift off the ground again, I have two enormous oak desks weighing it down.It mutters a disagreement once in a while, but it knows it is a bit old and a bit moth-eaten, and knows it probably couldn’t get far, but just to make sure it stays happy, on all warm, dry nights I open the skylight and the windows, and let the warm cross breeze caress it so it can flutter at the edges and feel like it’s in flight, and it happily rests under the stars.Postcard: The magic formula. Black card stock, pencils, ink, chalks.

Earth day 2016

Oh what an Earth Day this was.It's miserable and dreary and raining, AND I got stuck at home while Ira the repairman fixed my oven.But I'm happy to report that everything is well and I can bake once more.It's my usual habit to draw or paint a little something each year in celebration of Earth Day, and late this afternoon, when I finally had some time to do something about this, I kept thinking of those beautiful days out on the ocean, and about the cormorant who kept me company.I looked into the waves in my photos and saw that cormorant in the reflections in the stylised Haida art which I love.So I painted that cormorant, and I painted her reflection.What do you think Zola?She likes it. :D

Out on the paddle board, because it's too beautiful

Suddenly, the temps here are in the IT'S SUMMER range!So I took myself, and the paddle board, out on the calm waters at Deep Cove...a few minutes drive from my home.And then I did the same thing the next day.I don't even know where to begin to describe this feeling to you, so I'll start with some observations. I found myself thinking, I am supposed to be here, and so, here I am in the drift and pull, the gentle rise and sinking, forward movement. I stood in silence and let myself drift along with a cormorant. She kept a few feet away form me, but calmly accompanied me along. I put my oar down and floated under the docks watching the shadows run across the board and felt some tightly closed door in my soul fall open.I felt completely whole, buoyant, strong, cognizant of where my body begins, aware of the capacity I have to balance. My arms were full of light.I saw myself in those waves; the salty waves full of life. In the floating jellyfish, in the cormorants. In the way they sparkled and shimmered on those waves, pulled in and out, coaxed by the most gentle, warm breeze holding three bald eagle in a spiralling gyre overhead.We are so often guilty of living behind ourselves or in front of ourselves, but very rarely in ourselves. We have to stop and look around and realise that we're exactly where we're supposed to be.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JcGgdqi1NbE

So, not a typical Monday!

Yesterday was such a lovely day.As you know, I had a long walk around the bird sanctuary, and then I dropped in to see my son and his family, drove home and thought, "Perfect, 5pm, I'll just stick the chicken in the oven, cut up a bunch of veggies and put them right in with the chicken, and forget about supper till 6pm, when a beautifully roasted chicken and veggies will be ready."Supper time rolls around and I checked on chicken a few minutes early and guess what!The chicken was barely warm.The oven has stopped working. :(So out came my ancient orange Le Crueset and a frying pan, and supper, which was delicious, was 30 minutes later.Then I got a phone call from my bank telling me my debit card may have been compromised!Some days are like that.I know I shouldn't be eating sugar, but I felt a little deflated and so let myself have a piece of apple crumble pie much too late because of the late supper. Which in the end wasn't such a good idea because come 3am I was wide awake!So today instead of working on art, I ran around organising gas appliance repairmen (coming Thursday), organising a new and temporary bank card, checking thru my transactions to make sure nothing was amiss...and it wasn't.I don't get it. Three purchases at my local grocery store, one at Anthropologie, and one at my usual Sbux.Oh well, who knows. So I made myself a cup of tea and spent an hour this afternoon reading my new books.I don't usually buy coffee table books, and very rarely new, but this Gwyneth Paltrow book really caught my eye, so I bought it...at Costco...for much less that retail. It's full of glorious photos and looks like some lovely recipes. And I can make avocado toast without a recipe...lol...but I'm a sucker for lifestyle books which are beautiful to look at. Plus, I like her.The other book I bought is Ellen DeGeneres Home. Oh my word do those two ever have fantastic taste. Each one of their homes is so beautiful I could just move right in and not change a thing. It's lovely to see someone who has a large fine art collection and loves to live with it. Although, personally, I would never have been able to sell that ranch. That would have been a forever home for me.The third book I bought came to me second hand from the little used book pile at the little store at the Reifel bird sanctuary. They get donated wildlife books which then they sell for a little profit to help with the upkeep.This is the most beautiful book of bird photographs I've ever seen. This book is exquisite.It's the work of photographer Andrew Zuckerman and is simply called Bird. It's filled with the most beautiful creatures imaginable in all sorts of kooky and crazy poses.My last book purchase really isn't a book purchase. They are blank journals for my morning pages. (I'm working my way thru the Artist's Way again.) I was at Anthropologie for a couple little gifties for a joint birthday family supper, and they were on sale, and get this, the sale was a further 40% off the last sale price! Any cheaper and Anthro would have been paying me to buy them...lol.So there you go. A Monday which began as a pain day has actually ended up nicely. I handled my small disasters, had some lovely, quiet me time, also did some gardening, and went to my flow yoga class.Well done me. :D (forgive me a little pat on my back) :D

Hello from Sunday night

Hello from Sunday night guys and hello from the beautiful Reifel bird sanctuary.I'm so happy that on this beautiful, sunny spring day, I had a chance to drive out to and walk around the Reifel bird sanctuary.I love it here.I do.Today, being a sunny and warm Sunday, the parking lot was completely full.Loads of people were walking the paths, including a ton of children.I did have to remind a family, whose 10-ish yr old boy was whacking the bushes along the path, that this is a protected sanctuary.The family was suitably embarrassed and told the boy to knock it off. The boy said, "but I don't like just walking!"I'm so frustrated. Why the hell do people take their wayward children to a bird sanctuary?Why the hell don't people raise their children properly in the first place!Oh don't get me started.Happily, my own children respect nature and all living things. So we can start with my three and carry on with our four grandchildren and hopefully, all of yours as well. Now we're getting somewhere.It seemed that everyone was in full spring fever chirping and twittering away like mad.I did find some really large egg shells. I wondered who they belonged to. The Canada geese maybe? The Sandhill cranes? They must have been big eggs. I didn't see any goslings around yet.I wanted to find the resident Sandhill cranes and spied one out on an island in the middle of one of the waterways.Apparently that is the new nesting site.And then, suddenly overhead, a racket, as two more cranes came in for a landing on the path.They joined a third and all raised their beaks to the sky and whooped with joy!And then started to preen themselves and eat the bird seed offered as though nothing happened.I stood for quite a long time at a section of the path known for blackbird with my outstretched hand offering black sunflower seeds in hopes that one might land on my hand, but no good. It was too late in the afternoon and they were already full up from earlier feedings, rolling around the bushes like fat little porkers barely able to stuff another seed into their little bellies. It's a wonder they could fly! :DBut I did have the most wonderful day, and in the end of my walk, I stopped by the entrance shop and bought a second-hand bird book with the most amazing photographs. It might help me in my quest to be a better artist and learn to paint my birds in better poses.Hope you all had a brilliant weekend and hope your new week proves to be rich in love, fun and loads of good energy. :D

Love letter: dear legs

Dear legs,This girl, who was really a mermaid, only no one could tell on account of the legs, ran so fast that she went right off the edge of the world.Swoosh. Just like that.First she fell with her legs straight, like a metal rod, with her arms crossed over her chest.Then she fell sideways, rocking like falling feathers, only faster.Then she got bored and fell like a sack full of mud.Finally she pulled her legs up to her chest, locked her arms around them and got very quiet and very small. She felt like a ball, or a robin’s egg. She felt like a snail shell with the snail inside.Sealed.Heavy.Turning.Then she kicked off the bottom and swam up.Postcard: collagesent.

Love letter: dear courage

Dear courage,Change is in the air. I feel it. I feel it looming and circling and gathering strength.I can feel it creaking across my heart late at night.Resisting is only prolonging the frustration of the situation I’m in at the moment.The universe is funny that way.It will whisk you up and drop you miles away from where you thought you were heading to, and just makes you cope.I like change, really, I do. I like new situations and new people and new places. But on the other hand, I really do not like change forced on me.I definitely do not like Mr Steel-toed Boots the builder next door. I do not like his bullying tactics, the bending of the bylaws, the confrontations on my doorstep, the damage.Why do we not like some people?I always think that when you see the light in someone’s eyes, when you finally see WHO they are, you realise that they are someone who you might eventually understand. That’s so effortless, isn’t it?The other ones, the ones whose light you don’t see, they aren’t so easy.But that’s probably because you don’t let them see your light either.Watercolour painting of Cher Ami; a WWI carrier pigeon. Tiny little guy flew over war carrying messages back and forth saving the lives of over 200 men. I put him on a nondescript sheet of church voluntary. Just one small bird in the middle of a war. Such a courageous spirit.

Love letters: Dear first love, hunger, and future me

Dear first love, hunger, and future me,I heard,That a breeze is caused by the differences in air pressure on some mountain peak a hundred miles away.In the soft evening breeze a raven flew by the cabin, swooped over the pond and flew up to the windows to look in.There we were. Raven and I. Face to face for a moment.I heard,That same repeating little thought; a need, a hunger. Capture his image, capture that moment, with any available anything that will make a mark.Now that image is etched directly on my brain. Just like the time of the eagles on the snowy bank. Just like the time of the fox in the field. Just like the time of the hedgehog in the front garden.I heard,That this is the way it is with first loves, true loves; they lead to a lifetime of hunger.And it stays there on my mind waiting for the right piece of paper, canvas, clay, moment. They all do. All the captured memories. Waiting.In my mind I blend all the memories like a load of laundry and wash away. Wash away.And sort them out one by one.Postcards: watercolour paintings of that raven, on Arches paper.unsent

Opening the cabin for the year

Here's a turn-up for the books guys!Suddenly I got the weekend totally free and so off to the cabin I went.Two hundred km out of town to mile 120 on the railway. That's where I was.In the gloriously dry and warm Lillooet Country on our five acres beside this bubbling mineral stream.Opening the cabin for the year is always such a special time.First thing I do is fling the curtains wide open and take the shutters off the windows, open the doors and windows, and let the sun and fresh air in.Everything is just as I left it last autumn.Spring come a little later to this area, mainly because it's in the Gates Valley and the sun doesn't crest the mountains all winter, but also because the interior of BC is colder than the Pacific influenced coast.But I was happy to see spring well and truly sprung.So many lovely sights. There were butterflies everywhere mixing in the air with last autumn's milkweed seeds.Each time we get to the cabin, we pick a little bouquet of whatever is blooming at the moment. There's very little blooming right now, but I did find some beautiful, fresh green aspen shoots and some blooming falsebox.I started a cozy fire to warm up the cabin, put a pot of water on for some tea and a couple slices of bread for some toast.Then I poured myself a glass of that cold mineral water from the stream and relaxed. At home I usually play free online slot machines at www.EasyMobileCasino.com but here it is so serene that I prefer to sit and just feel at peace.Just outside the door of the cabin, right in the middle of the path in harm's way, was this beautiful native fairy slipper orchid. I had to be so careful not to step on it.And on the other side of the pond was a lovely tapestry of blue and green periwinkle courtesy of my grandmother, who planted it there 20 years ago. I love it there and love that it reminds me of her...but as I've had several friends over the years that were solicitors, a few in particular being Knotweed solicitors, I do know it's an invasive plant and so am watchful how it spreads. So far, the country is so dry and arid, that this is kept beautifully in check only around that part of the pond and doesn't spread into the meadow. .On the other side of the meadow is the Gates river.I did a little surveying of the land to see what's changed. The beaver came around again this winter and cut down several trees, but only at the pond and not close to the cabin. I did a little tidying up of fallen branches and limbs...And soon it was time for supper. Food just tastes so much better here.I relaxed and read my book until the sun set.Then, I chose candles over oil lamps and watched the last of the light fade away.The only art supplies at the cabin are a bunch of old elementary school pencils from when the children were young, but they were perfect for drawing that fresh, green branch of aspen.And after the light was well and truly gone, I played a little solitaire, (the way my grandmother used to play it and never lose)......and I watched the bats flying in the moonlight.Sunday morning came much too early, and with it the need to return to the city.But I had the most amazing and relaxing weekend.Can't wait to come back up again.

Love Letters: Dear Younger Me

Dear younger me,The things which I wish to say cannot be said,In part because it has been said, (and often), before,And we know this was as true the first as the second time I said it.It cannot become any truer with time.The bigger reason I cannot say what I want to say, is that I want to say something which seems to be a kind of music.A world score of music.It’s less a text and more a space of time profoundly charged by feeling, like the awe given to our small being among the enormous events of universal importance.Universes and stars and suns, impact points, or gods, or some computer generated sims.In any case, the whole of it.Even for those, whose language is to say what cannot be said, the task requires a life of practice, contemplation, prayer. (The latter two don’t work without the first.)Our life began in echo and extends into apprenticeship; a period which may be short, or long, but always ends...if it ends...with a view.Even with the view, I must still learn the personal language that will convey that view to you.And since my view, so similar, is also vastly different from yours, if only because I wish to speak it, I must also invent the language.Life is like that.Postcard: Acrylic paintingsent