Posts

Sunrise

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Featured image: Sunrise in the Morning at the Lake For some reason, I woke up earlier than usual this morning and looked across the lake and saw the lovely, wonderful orange, pink, and yellow sunrise glowing just everywhere. I mean everywhere, just everywhere. I couldn’t stand it. I just had to get up, make coffee, and go to the other side of the house and watch the sun rise through the trees in the woods. What is it about starting the day with a cup of coffee and watching the sun rise? It just fills your heart and soul until it is about to burst. And you try to put some of these wonderful sensations in your treasure box to save them for a rainy day, and there just isn’t enough room. Gosh. Memories. Happy memories. Written down, I rarely get beyond them—little fragments from here and there. One that always comes to mind is the last day of a canoeing trip. We got up quickly and cleaned up the tent, rolled up our sleeping bags, made coffee, and, with mugs in hand, walked up the hill. We ...
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Daffodils

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  Featured image:  Daffodils In A Vase with Yellow Stripes I cut some daffodils from my garden yesterday and put them in a vase. This really is one of the first years I have been able to do that. Usually, the deer get them first. They look so cute on my kitchen windowsill in a tall vase with yellow stripes. It brings a smile to my face just writing about them. I think daffodils are supposed to do that, aren’t they? “She turned to the sunlight And shook her yellow head, And whispered to her neighbor: ‘Winter is dead.’” — A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young If one pleasure is worth a thousand daffodils, then one is too few. — Wordsworth
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Asking Questions

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  Featured image: Straight from the Heart “I cannot expect even my own art to provide all the answers—only to hope it keeps asking the right questions.” — Wassily Kandinsky
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The Difference in Our Weavings

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Featured image: Intersections II We seem to be slowly moving into summer. This year I would describe summer's arrival as a slow, quiet slide. Even the blackbirds are quiet. And I am gently moving back into mark-making. I have a new way of creating, and it is triggering new thinking, which is always wonderful. It’s the weaving in my work that seems to be triggering ideas. Even though my weaving isn’t the kind of weaving that all blends, one color into another, as though each thread has a place, rather each thread clings to its neighbor and finds comfort, even though they are not the same. The weaving may appear chaotic and abstract, but it is not, for each thread has a purpose and a connection to whatever is next to it. The connection is the glue that holds the weaving together. For me, it is the invisible divine that connects. I have given up trying to see the divine and trying to describe what I cannot see. But I can feel it. Most of us can feel it and, like myself, can’t put the ...
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Nature

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  Featured image: Nature's Truth “…and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?” — Vincent van Gogh
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The Woodpecker

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  Featured image: Study of Rose Breasted Woodpecker The woodpecker keeps tap tap tapping. Listening to the rat-a-tat-tat in the distance and the gentle chirp close by, it’s nice to have my coffee outside once again and listen to the woods waking up in the morning. Green stubbles are sprouting in the gardens, bringing such joy. The deer didn’t get my daffodils this year, and specks of yellow are sprinkled about the garden borders. Everything will sprout up quickly, and soon those swelling buds will shed their soft shells, and the woods will be filled with luscious spring greens and their transparent colors will be everywhere. Every critter seems to be pairing up. The woodpecker keeps tap tap tapping.
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From Heart to Hand

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  Featured image: Imagination “In art, the hand can never execute anything higher than the heart can imagine.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
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