Nativity of Our Lord

Blessings to you and yours this Christmas season!

Family

These winterberries added just a little more color to the wreath I was making while waiting for power to return. Three wintery days later, power was finally restored.

I never think to be grateful for heat and running water, but when they're not available, I wonder why I didn't bow my head sooner and give thanks. Another thing I tend to take for granted is family. When you're weary, tired, and defeated, they're there three hundred and sixty-five days a year to lend a hand.

This Advent season, I've come to realize how rich I am.

Feast of the Immaculate Conception

I was thinking of Saint Bernadette at Mass this evening. Someone had asked her which gave her more pleasure--receiving Our Lord in the Most Holy Eucharist, or the apparitions of the Blessed Mother. Her answer, "The two can not be separated."

My husband and I are making rosaries for the grandchildren this Christmas. And we'd better hurry along because there's more to do. The most important things will get done, and as for the rest. I'm grateful the season of Christmas is twelve days. I may need it.

Memorial of Saint Nicholas

Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of children. One of my favorite saints during this season of Advent.

Thanksgiving Treats

Just couldn't pass up these chocolate Thanksgiving turkeys for the grandchildren. Not one of the four basic food groups, but being a grandparent sometimes trumps good nutrition.

Art and Beauty

Been attempting the drawing exercises in Charles Bargue Et Jean-Leon Gerome: Drawing Course. The drawings in this book are to be savored.

An interview with James Langley, a teacher at Savannah College of Art and Design. A lot to ponder.

Tulla

I took this little girl along with me the other day when I went to visit the grandchildren. I wasn't altogether satisfied with the new fabric I selected: a blend of cotton and spandex. Stuffing the doll was like filling a water balloon. The spandex allowed it to stretch forever. Needless to say, she's a bit longer than was originally intended.

But the granddaughters are very forgiving and welcomed her in spite of her shortcomings. Oh, and her name. They called her Tulla. It suits her.

Unknown

Periodically my sister and I would rummage through the attic and dig out my parent's box of photos. My mother didn't quite understand our interest in family, or friends that were before our time, but she'd sit with us for awhile and share anecdotes about the ones she knew. Once my mother told us a little bit about their lives, these people were no longer unknown. They were someone.

The saints became real for me when I began reading Butler's Lives of the Saints. It's a bit like digging through that box of photos in my parent's attic. The saints encountered many of the same sufferings, hardships, and losses that families encounter in their daily walk through life, yet grace was, is, always there to see them through.

Kensington Gardens

One of my favorite books as a child was James Barrie's Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. Though I was too young to read the book, Arthur Rackham's illustrations allowed me to create my own narrative. And my favorite! I always envied Peter's being out and about at night with the denizens of the park.

Several weeks ago the moonlight was so bright I would wake thinking the outside light had been left on. And when I watch the moon rising between the pines and the oaks, Peter Pan and Kensington Gardens still comes to mind.

A Visit

The grandchildren came by on Saturday so out came the construction paper, glue, and crayons. Though they are quite young, they have a very purposeful approach to their artwork, which is fascinating to watch. Every mark, every glued on piece of paper, every sticker that is applied has significance, nothing is random.

And what to do with all the extra leaves that didn't get decorated. Well our door was a good place for them to land. Yes, even some of the ones they had collected outdoors were taped on too.

Autumn Splendor

The weatherman predicted rain and winds early next week and recommended taking pictures before the foliage disappears. An early evening walk through our neighborhood is like journeying through a Tiffany landscape.

Change

Think I could be a spectator of fall all day, but then nothing would get done.

Angels

This past Monday was the Feast of the Archangels Saint Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, and today is the Memorial of the Guardian Angels.

I read that you should remember your guardian angel as you leave your home and as you return. How comforting to know you are never without your angel.

Frog Went A-Courtin'

Whenever I see frogs, the song Frog Went A-Courtin' comes to mind. It was a favorite in grade school and the verses seemed never-ending.

There's an elusive little group of frogs that gather around the ditch that runs through the neighborhood. They're quick to scatter when I come around with my sketchbook. Maybe they heard what happened to Froggie...uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh.

Daddy Long Legs

Insect activity is slowing down in the garden now that fall temperatures have set in. One insect whose still about and whose antics are always amusing to watch is a Daddy Long Legs.

At times it looks like a marionette traveling about the garden, though the legs never get tangled as a marionette's strings. And when they have a spat with their kin, they look more like these little guys. Wonder if they ever crossed paths with H. G. Wells?

Elijah Fed by the Ravens

I found the icon I wanted to draw after reading these words from the Liturgy of the Hours:

"He shall dwell on the heights, his stronghold shall be the rocky fastness, his food and drink in steady supply."

I wonder if Elijah had moments of doubt when he was told that ravens would provide. When there are times that I'm not listening, something presents itself that reminds me of His love and faithfulness.

Jewelweed

No matter how well prepared I was for the Jack-in-the Box to spring out right before the chorus began, I would still jump.

And though I know if I disturb a Jewelweed's seed pods, seeds will come flying, I still am caught off guard.

Prayer of the Heart

Friday was the Queenship of Mary so I brought my camera to take a photo while there was still some afternoon light. One Friday a month my husband and I go to the church to prepare the altar area for Mass. As sacristans, it's a time when we can quietly pray as we work. The prayer isn't as much a verbal prayer, as it is the silent prayer of the heart.

There's a quote of St. Teresa of Avila that I reflect on from time to time: "God does not look so much at the magnitude of anything we do as at the love with which we do it." I look forward to someday meeting the many people who have done great works in the smallest of ways.

Stop and Go

Whenever I took our children for walks, it was more of an investigative stroll, than a cardiovascular workout. I'd walk a bit and wait while they collected leaves, studied bugs, drew pictures in the dirt, or stood still to watch the sun disappear behind the clouds. Walks were always stop and go, but I enjoyed watching their enthusiasm for the most ordinary finds, or occurrences.

Now our grandchildren remind me that nothing in a day is ordinary. Each day has its own newness and I try to remember to look at things the way they do.

Enthroned Mother of God with Angels and Saints

Attempting to draw Saints George and Theodor of Amasea. This early icon is one of my favorites.

All things retro

A dress I hurried to finish for the new grand baby. The bonnet I'll complete sometime this week, but the dress couldn't wait. I want her to have an opportunity to wear it, at least once before she outgrows it.

This is a 50's pattern--one of those twenty-five cent fun finds that my daughter and I came across on a trip to Goodwill. I noticed Simplicity recently reissued this pattern, but it lacked the bunting and sleeping bag nightie that the original included. And I think of all the children's patterns that my grandmother had purchased over the years, and I didn't have the foresight to keep them. Ugh, you just don't think the same in your twenties as you do later in life.

And speaking of retro things, nostalgia kicked in when I happened to catch NECN's interview with Nancy Schon. Someone had recently sent our grandchildren McCloskey's Make Way for Ducklings: a timeless book that is still read in schools today. I just know the grandchildren would love to visit the duck sculptures someday. Who wouldn't!

Drawing: Enthroned Mother of God

I didn't start drawing nature until we began homeschooling our children. Part of their science studies was to keep a nature journal and I journaled along with them. There was an awakening to the beauty of life that surrounded me and I continued to draw nature even after they completed their home studies.

After a friend suggested I take an icon class, I still made time for my nature journal, but icons summonsed my heart in a different way. Perhaps Eric Liddel's "..., and when I run, I feel His pleasure," is the best way to describe it. To be in His will is enough.

My friend has been painting icons for years and as she paints, she offers prayers for friends and family. I wondered how many icons are bound with prayers as are hers. She remains a mentor to me as my eyes are opened more and more to the beauty of these "windows into heaven."

The Getty Museum offers a brief video excursion of The Holy Monastery of Saint Catherine at Sinai . Ah, someday maybe.

Favorite Blogs

Laurel was kind enough to award me a blogger award several weeks ago and I'm afraid I am not computer savvy enough to post my favorite links. Truth be told, my daughter set this blog up for me because I am computer inept. Until she can assist me, I thought I'd list my favorite blogs.

In addition to Laurel's, and the two I already have as links, these are seven others that I regularly visit. There is an underlying joy in their writing and their work which makes for a welcome read at the end of a long day. Though one is a Flicker account, I'm hoping he will consider a blog someday.

My seven: Heart Of A Seed, The Scoop, Score and Deal, Handmaidby, Doudy Sketche, Daily Art, Art Esprit, and Duckmarx.

Dolls in Waiting

Some of these dolls have sat in this chair for most a year now. These little ones neither scold, or complain, as they patiently wait for the day when they will be complete.

Don't give up on me girls. I haven't forgotten you.

From the clothesline

One task I look forward to at this time of year is hanging out the laundry. It takes me longer than it should to peg things on the line because there's so much that captures my attention.

There's always something new emerging, budding, or flowering; something flying overhead, crawling, or hopping by. More often than not, I like to do nothing but observe, but other times I'll sketch the visits from plant and animal kingdom. Yes, clean laundry has its own rewards.

Blessings!

Our newest grand baby : ) God is good!

Forget-me-not

Greatness is found in the smallest of things. It sometimes causes me to put aside my pencil and repeat the words we say at Consecration, "My Lord and my God."

Fish Eyes

Studying the aquarium in the hospital waiting room, I couldn't decide if fishes' eyes give them a worried look, or surprised. Hmmm, or maybe something in between.

June 14

Always in time for an anniversary bouquet. Happy thirty-third, hon!

Doodling

On hot summery-like days, both mind and pen have a tendency to wander.

Martha

As a young mother, there were days when I felt I didn't devote enough time to any one person, or any one thing. I was seeking advice from my mother-in-law during one of her annual visits. I knew she'd have some sage words to offer where she had raised a family of eight. I'm certain I was probably reciting a litany of things that I couldn't accomplish and was a bit bewildered. Her peaceful response was not what I expected. "But you have an eternity."

When God sends someone to deliver the 2 X 4, all words cease. My guess is I looked very much like Mary as she sat at Christ's feet. Yes, I was, and still am at times, the Martha running around wondering why everyone else doesn't see the importance in what I'm doing. The world has its own time table and eternity just isn't part of its vocabulary.

My husband and I have entered a new phase of our life and many hurdles weren't anticipated. Family remains the most important thing and I wonder how we will fit everything in. But when we attend Mass tonight to receive our Lord in the most Holy Eucharist and sit before him during Adoration, I know I will be pondering his words. " ..., Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things . But one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the best part...

Going Home

I always look forward to going back to my hometown for the rummage and white elephant sale. It's not that I really need to go it's just, well, I like to. Most of the older people I remembered as a child have long since passed away and few of my childhood friends still live there. But still, it's where I feel most at home. I'm always amused when my mom's friends introduce me to newcomers as "Peggy's daughter." And though my husband and I have been married for thirty-three years, he's still referred to as Peggy's son-in-law. They address you in the manner that they did when you were ten years old. Some things never change.

After catching up on the news, I poked about and found these little cups for the grand children's visits. They only hold two ounces of liquid, but they're the perfect size for little hands. The creamer isn' t much taller and is just right for them to pour milk into their cups. The demitasse spoons were purchased because they scoop up just the the right amount of ice cream.

My husband found an old auto harp for the musical ones in the family and there were some good old hardcover books that we tossed in as well. Last on the list: hot dogs. You just can't leave without buying one. They taste so much better than any other local place that sells them. Although, perhaps it's the company that makes them taste so good. Who says you can't go home again.

Leap of Faith

After Saint Nicholas' name is added to the icon, it will be completed. Because it was not a true icon board, it lacked a kovcheg. I tried to give the impression of one, though it feels a bit like cheating. Every part of an icon has theological significance. Lacking too were the proper dimensions, so the frame appears a bit scant.

I will try one more icon on claybord and then graduate to a gessoed panel. I have a "true" board that we produced in class, but I want to save that for the Blessed Mother. I'm thinking of writing Saint Michael next, though there will not be as much time to devote to it as in the past.

We've had some recent changes in our life and what appears a roadblock, I have to believe has been put there to redirect us. A leap of faith is required of all of us at different times in our lives. They're never easy, but I try to keep in mind Saint Thomas' prayer: ",...help my unbelief."

A Crown

We moved into our house twenty-eight years ago. It was a new house and there wasn't any need of a lawn mower. It was a year before the grass finally took hold. My grandmother wanted to help brighten things up and brought me flowers from her garden.

She instructed me as to where to plant the bearded iris, primrose, jacobs ladder, peonies, and forsythia. I noticed something caught her eye as she looked at the wild flowers that were growing around the perimeter of our dirt lawn.

"Mayflowers," she said affectionately. Then she proceeded to tell me how the small New Hampshire town where she had grown up had always celebrated May Day, a day of festivies. One tradition was her own participation in the Maypole dance. Each girl wore a crown of Mayflowers that were made from trailing arbutus. Nana said the flowers had dissapeared over time and she speculated that they had taken up the roots and the plants couldn't replenish themselves.

Nana passed away a month before she would have turned 100. That was over twenty years ago. When the mayflower begins to blossom each spring, I think of my grandmother as a young girl dancing around a Maypole while wearing a mayflower crown. I believe she is wearing a different crown now and still, spreading joy!

Day at the Marsh

Crayon Drawing

The grandchildren came to visit this past weekend so I pulled out the crayons. They have such an enthusiasm when it comes time to doing anything "art" that I couldn't help but join them .

These humble materials, manila paper and crayons, are just plain fun! Not to be outdone by my grandchildren, I set to work drawing the large pines that are near our house. It took me back to grade school: at the end of a school day, the teacher would let us pull out our crayons.

I did a little googling later that evening to see if there were any crayon artists. I came across a number of people who work with crayons and one who stands out is Tiona Marco. After seeing her drawings, I have a whole new respect for crayons.

Yes, I look forward to coloring away with my new classmates when they come to visit again. Only next time, I think we'll upgrade and go with the set of 64.

Enlivening Lines

I finished Saint Nicholas' facial features, which also included the last highlights: the enlivening lines. These are the hardest to do because they are meant to be precise. I should know better than to try to paint them after consuming two cups of coffee. It always leads to unsteady hands.

I have decided to order Holy Image, Hallowed Ground before I begin another icon. My class notes are lacking and I believe the book will help to fill in some of those gaps. A few students had brought a camera and a tape recorder to class. Smart thinking. Especially where it's hard to watch the demonstration and jot down notes at the same time. I ended up watching more than jotting. Hmmm, live and learn I guess.

I will start the nimbus and work on the background in the next few days. It's time to move on and think about another icon. Saint Nicholas has been very patient.

Melting

What started out as snow this morning, has now turned to rain. We still have a river of white that winds through the yard, but the snow looks as if it's in retreat. Last year's grass is poking through the shallow areas of snow and it's green. Spring is finally here. Hurrah!

Portrait

My parents had given us a wonderful Christmas present years ago: pastel portraits of our children. At the time, my parents were thinking of having the artist do a group picture, but he wisely suggested single portraits. It made sense that each child would want her own picture someday.

Looking back, I don't know why I didn't think to write him and tell him how much we enjoyed our daughters' portraits. I wished he could have done portraits of our grandchildren, but he passed away a number of years ago.

While studying photos of our grandchildren, I wondered about trying a pastel sketch. I had purchased a small set of pastels earlier this year, when our local art store went out of business, and had only used them one other time. I don't understand the medium at all, but I love the immediacy of pastels.

Yes, I floundered about for quite some time and finally called it quits. I can say, I'm most grateful for interlibrary loan and have requested Price's and Greene's books. Maybe I'll dare to attempt pastels again, after I've read through their books. Maybe...

Fussing

When I find I'm fretting, or fussing, too much over my icon, I try to remember Pearson's advice: "Do your very best at every stage and then let it go." I need to heed his words, or I won't move on.

Learning is a process and the only way to grow is to finish this icon and try another. His words again: "Even though you work hard at improving, don't forget to enjoy yourself while you paint. Fun is also holy."

Looking at others' work is a pleasant diversion after I've put the brush down. This artist's paintings always evoke a smile.

Pondering

I wonder what I miss when I'm not looking up.

Easter Vigil

This is a colored pencil drawing that I have placed on my drawing table. I would like to try painting this someday, but for now a drawing will have to do. I'm not certain if this is all that remains of this icon, or the book's publisher cropped it. Either way, it says everything about what is going to be occurring after sundown tonight.

This icon is the Nativity of Christ and is part of the Annunciation Cathedral iconostasis of the Moscow Kremlin. I'm guessing that this is an angel peering out from behind another angel's wing.

I am enamored with this angel's gaze. Though this is a Nativity icon, it still speaks deeply of the mystery of our faith. A new birth is about to occur. These forty days of Lent are about to end and we will once again be able to sing the Alleluia, and to say the Great Amen.

Finger Puppets

It's interesting your perception of time as a child, and that as an adult. If asked when I was little, the number of years between generations, I would have said 100. Asked today, at this point in life, my answer would be 7. At least that's all it seemed it was while reading my grandchild The Tale of Peter Rabbit. It felt as if it were just seven years ago that my daughters and I were reading about the little rabbit family and wondered how it would all end for Peter. In actuality, it was more like eighteen years ago.

There's a continued pleasure in watching family grow. In my children, and grandchildren, I see aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents and others. Though many are no longer with us, they still can be found in family. It's a reminder that life is ongoing; life is generational.

And speaking of generations. These little finger puppets are many generations removed from Peter and his siblings, but they still bear some family resemblance. They'll be traveling home with our grandchildren after Easter Day celebrations. At their age, I guess it's okay to hope that it will make the drive home pass more quickly.

Lenten lessons

The Lenten season was certainly the right time to write my icon. It brought to light many things that I must work on, and I don't mean painting.

I was pleased that the hightlighting in the hand looked just as it should, but then noticed a brush hair in the center of the palm. Egg yolk has a real stick-to-it-ness. No amount of gentle coaxing worked to release the hair. The hand had to be scraped. I ended up repainting it, but it didn't look the same afterwards. The terrible twos set in and I left the icon for a day, not having the patience to paint anymore. Umm, and wasn't patience one of the virtues I had hoped to work on over Lent.

I painted a few hours on the following day, and realized I wasn't at all pleased with the work that I was doing. But what about my desire for a more grateful heart: Blessed be you God in good times, and in bad times.

And then there's humility: don't think I'll even talk about that. I remember reading that Michelangelo regretted carving his name into the Pieta. Others were imitating him and he wanted people to know this was his work. Iconographers never signed their work because they knew it wasn't about them.

Lent is a good time to reflect, and I'm sure as I continue to write this icon, there will be many things that will be brought into the light. But then, Blessed be you God...