Almost

The weather continues to vacillate: back-to-back snowstorms, then springlike temperatures, and presently freezing rain. Snow from the last storms remain in spite of up and down temps, so we'll delight in a white Christmas after all.  

The tree will be decorated tonight, and we'll do some wrapping while swapping memories of past Christmases.  Christmas Eve will culminate in Mass and a family Christmas Eve party, a tradition that never gets old!

Wishing all a Blessed Christmas and joy-filled New Year!



 

Immaculate Conception

Normally I would place a rose before Our Lady for the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, but this variegated poinsettia caught my attention. 

Note: Byzantine Icon: Fons Lucis Stella Maris.  A beautiful image of this icon can be found over on Tumbler.  I'll begin a painting of this in January, but until then drawing will have to suffice. 

Waiting

It was difficult slipping into the thought of Advent, after our return from Thanksgiving with the grandchildren and family.  I was savoring the memories without giving much thought to the Season of Advent which began on the evening we returned home. 

This weekend I knew I must prepare for Advent--I'm a week behind after all.  And if it was living up to Maine's being "the pine tree state," it meant getting out there and cutting some boughs for a wreath. The purple bow, a reminder of the Advent Season, will be changed up for Christmas.

This Sunday there was a desire to attend Mass at the cathedral.  It's the marble altar, the purple and rose candles, the stained-glass windows, the white and gold walls, the mosaic stations of the cross; it's the sound of the organ and the choir; quite frankly, it's everything in the Mass that appeals to the senses.  And yes, it's that "waiting" that you and everyone around must do. 

My parents would leave us with my grandparents while they tended to some Christmas shopping--they knew they could better accomplish what they needed to without having three little ones in tow.  One of my favorite spots in my grandparent's house was a window seat that looked out on Main Street.  I would sit there a bit lost in time as I watched and waited for my parent's car to round the corner. There was never any doubt in my mind that they would be back sometime soon and then, there was a joy that came with anticipating their return.  It's a stretch maybe, but sitting at Mass this second Sunday in Advent Season was much like sitting once again in my grandparent's window seat--there's that joyful waiting, with ne'er a doubt.  Advent is here. 

Angel Study

Doing a little drawing here and there in the midst of Advent.  

Time will be devoted to readying the heart and home for the Christmas Season. 

Note: Michelangelo.  Angel: Tomb of St. Dominic, Church of San Domenico, Bologna.

Sunset

There are moments when you are so determined to seek what lies ahead, that you fail to look back.  It was only when my husband told me to look behind me--as I was attempting to snap a photo of the sunset over the harbor--that I completely overlooked the moon rising in the East.

Isn't that life though.  You're so busy looking forward, that you fail to notice what's behind you, above you, and beneath you. 

Another birthday and life seems to be moving as fast as a sunset, but in that sunset, it's giving thanks for all that's in a day.

A cup of tea

As much as I would love to change the pace of the world, it just isn't going to happen.  About the only thing under my control, and even then it's limited, is adjusting what happens within the home. 

Normally I'd opt for microwaving a cup of water and throwing in a tea bag, and yet today, Sunday a day when everything should be more relaxed, I nixed the idea of something so hurried and put on the tea kettle.  And then there's the waiting for the tea to steep--you can't speed it up.  It will be ready when it's ready--it means waiting patiently versus a quick cuppa from the microwave.

Embroidery can't be rushed, tea can't be rushed, time can't be rushed.  It's Sunday; a day when I can't make the world stand still, but I can bask in the environs of home.

All Hallow's Eve

We always look forward to my sister's Halloween party--and most of all seeing how she decorates from year to year.  Her table centerpiece consisting of little peep ghosts rising from an illuminated ivy plant made me think of Disney's animated version of Night on Bald Mountain.

The whole movement was frightening to me as a child.  It was the sounds, the shadows, the ominous presence of everything evil that was troubling.   

And then it was the sudden sound of church bells that signaled it was safe perhaps to look back at the screen.  Yes, the demons and denizens of the underworld recoiled at the very sound coming from the steeple, and as the peels continued each creature ashamedly retreated into darkness.  

It was the many orbs of light traveling through a wooded area that illustrated darkness was dispelled. And all the while, those preparing to attend Matins streamed confidently through a landscape that went from woods to sanctuary.  The voices singing Ave Maria were assurance the people were protected.  

It's a long ways now from my Disney days, but here on All Hallow's Eve, the Solemnity of All Saints, a candle will be burning and Mass will be heard.  Darkness is overcome.  

First Frost

So the weatherman said the growing season is officially over--or at least inland it will be with the cooler temperatures settling in.  It was time to go out and selvage what little was still struggling against the odds.

This summer my husband made a raised garden bed for me and I thought I'd try these carrots to see if they'd take.  It was a "Hallelujah!" moment when I pulled them today. I gave up on root vegetables years ago because our soil, no matter what we added to it,  never agreed with what we planted.  Next year I intend to devote a whole bed to root vegetables now they've given me the nod.  Of course the moles have taken a shine to the raised bed too--one problem solved, another to go.

My other love this growing season was Borage, or Starflower.  I have fallen in love with this plant: blue ranks number one in my book and who wouldn't have a crush on these beautiful star-shaped flowers.  I'll be eager to plant more of this next growing season. 

So let the frost come.  I know what's on the list for next year--and with cold weather settling in, I'll have a reason to dream of warmer days. 

Queen of Fall

No matter where you go these days, Mother Nature rolls out the royal carpet. 

The Little Flower

Working on a small watercolor study for an icon of St. Therese of the Child Jesus, but it still needs more attention. 

Today, Oct 1,  is her memorial. And  her "little way"--it's for everyday

I try to read her autobiography Story of a Soul once a year because there is something new to be found in it each time it is read.  Maybe now's the right moment to pick up her book again. 

Fall

There's very little flowering, or producing in the garden now that fall is official.  Beans and zucchini continue to yield enough for supper, and will as long as the frost holds off.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed on that one.

Collecting a small bouquet to place before a statue of Our Lady--wild flowers fill in the gap where all that remains in the garden are a few determined phlox, cosmos, and anise hyssop.

Evening temperatures are dropping and the trees are just beginning to change.  I do miss my garden flowers, but the leaves are always rich in fall colors and signal that life has its seasons.  

Promethea Moth

Last year my husband was thinning some of the trees in the yard and asked me to come look at this caterpillar feasting on the leaves of one of the felled trees.  I've only seen the Cecropia silkmoth caterpillar twice in my lifetime: once when we were camping up in Northern Maine, and now this one munching on the foliage of a wild cherry tree.  The colors and shapes on this caterpillar could be a stand-in for a Dr. Seuss illustration--it's quite amazing to see.

Mid-summer I spotted something floundering about in the garden around dusk--every once in a while something catches your eye when you're at the sink doing dishes.  Curious I went to see what it was and spotted a Cecropia silkmoth nearing the end of its lifespan. It didn't make it past evening, so it was put aside for the grand children's collection. 

I've been trying to finish up a drawing of this moth and have a little further color to add to it.  It was only after taking notice of some of the moth's markings, and coloration that things didn't add up. While consulting some Internet sites and insect guides, I realized I was going down the wrong path with this one: this was a Promethea silkmoth--whose caterpillar I have yet to see.  Recalling a large dark moth I had seen the summer before on our bedroom window, but was unable to identity, was now known as well;  it had been the male Promethea: its wings are most black, unlike the female's which are an array of dark browns and rust-colored reds. 

Mother Nature shares bits and pieces at her choosing. You can't assume anything.  You just wait and perhaps another time your hands are in the kitchen sink, a little something more may be revealed. 

All in a Day

I don't have to wander any further than our backyard to be captivated by Mother Nature.

Note: Eastern Wild Turkeys; Hummingbird Moth; Himalayan Balsam; Black-winged Damselfly

Birth of Mary

It comes as no surprise that Pope Francis asked for prayers for peace in Syria on the vigil of the Birth of Mary. 

Our prayers are joined with everyone throughout the world who kneeled and begged for peace today.

Helene Schjerbeck

I came across mention of Helen Schjerbeck on a number of blogs--at the time I was Googling for something and saw posted images of her works.  There are artists that resonate with you for reasons that can't be explained other than they strike a chord--and a beautiful one at that. 

I was fortunate enough to find a library that carried a book on her life and works.  It can't be touched price-wise for my art book collection, so I must content myself with Internet images.

There's a mystery to her paintings--a luminosity that captivates.  Her paintings of women and children occupied with the everyday breathe; they're timeless.

Below my own sketch are two of her works.  I finished the library book, but Helene still remains elusive.  And undoubtedly,  that's part of the appeal.

Summer Memories

A visit from the grandchildren and along with that comes new artwork. 

Summer is a time for storing memories: the sound of children back in the house once again, playing tag with the waves and feeling the sand between your toes, ice cream at twilight, laughter that never fades.

Summer, I wish you'd linger longer.

:)

Google made reference to Rembrandt's 407th birthday.  I imagine you could celebrate your birthday in whatever way pleases you if you reach 407.  I tried sketching some of Rembrandt's etchings and drawings and was amused by this particular self-portrait.  Was he the type of man that would put a smiley face at the end of his correspondence? 

St Teresa of Avila wished to be spared of dour saints, and St Therese of Lisieux, one of my favorite saints, would in good humor imitate individuals' mannerisms that she found amusing.  As a family we had a tendency to laugh at ourselves first, because there was plenty there we could either choose to cry about, or laugh about--guess that's a healthy thing. 

My icon teacher told us that our work was serious, but not to take ourselves too seriously. It might be why I can relate to this sketch of Rembrandt.  He took his work seriously, but maybe not himself too seriously.

Happy Birthday, Rembrandt :)

Practice, practice...

Mom enrolled my sister and me in ballet classes when we were ages 7 and 5.  Both of us vowed we'd practice after we saw the skirt we'd be wearing for our first recital.  It actually looked like something an elementary school child would design with more yardage than our combined height and over-sized polka dots of aqua, green, red, and orange.  Our interest waned quickly and practice soon became drudgery.  It also became apparent that there would be frequent recitals, which meant purchasing outfits at regular intervals. Mom reconsidered and thought the investment more than she could afford for two little ones that found riding bikes more appealing than practice. 

We were enrolled in tap and jazz classes in our early teen years.  After three months of lessons my sister firmly announced she had no interest in dance and bowed out -- so to speak.  I agreed to persevere, but later regretted my decision when it came time for me to present "our" dance routine at the upcoming recital.  Terrified when I stepped out onto the stage alone,  I exerted too much pressure on the cane I was swinging about and then watched in horror as my prop broke in half and rolled across the stage.  At that dreadful moment every step was completely wiped from my memory and my only desire was to retrieve the damaged prop and exit the stage.  The music played on to an empty stage.  The teacher and I both agreed after my performance that dance wasn't quite my calling. 

I'd like to say drawing ballerinas is easier than my brief encounters with dance, but then only slightly.  Each pose was to last no more than 15 minutes then the ballerinas changed positions.  The last few minutes of the drawing session the class requested a more relaxed moment with the ballerinas in conversation at the barre.  It's a bit more comfortable to be on the other side of the ballet barre with a pencil in hand, but it's still all about practice.  And looking over my sketches, it's obvious you can't escape practice, practice, and ...

Father's Day

A gift of a beautiful morning and a constantly changing sky.  Add a cup of coffee and you have the start to a perfect Father's Day.

Sun gave way to clouds by the end of day and more wet weather is due tonight.  Rather than watch the peonies disintegrate in the rain, a few were brought inside to grace the table for Father's Day and our 38th wedding anniversary. 

Remembering

It was consoling to find my great-grandmother's grave site two years ago.  My grandparents took me with them to place flowers at the various cemeteries where family had been laid to rest, yet I was so young at the time I couldn't recall whose grave sites we visited, or their locations.  Information disappears over the years and then it's difficult to trace down people that may be able to add another piece to the puzzle. 

Walking a little further along the cemetery grounds this past Memorial Day, we found another family member whose grave remained unadorned. It could be his family have moved away, or there were no successive generations, or like my family, the information was inadvertently forgotten. Knowing how much it meant to me to finally find a loved one, I wondered about bringing more flowers next year to place on some grave sites that have nothing.   I would have been grateful if someone had done it for my great-grandmother.

Family is so mobile today: you have to go where the jobs are, or someplace other than the area you grew up in is an adventure.  And then there's family that have been called home.  Because time and circumstance have set some of us apart, I consecrate myself and my family each morning to the Blessed Virgin Mary. I know no one prays like a Mother! 

Mother's Day

Our own little crowning of Our Lady for Mother's Day--and it had to be larger and more colorful than the little rose chaplet that regularly adorns her head.

Acer rubrum

A week ago Sunday, we traveled south to attend our granddaughter's First Communion--there is nothing so beautiful as to see one receive our Lord for the first time.  We're home now, but though we can't be there with family, we are joined each time we are at Mass--now even more so where she receives.

We left Maine in cool weather only to return to the same. But this weekend the temperatures have warmed--which brings with it the first flowering of the Red Maple.  The flowering produces a red haze--a contrast with the other trees that are just starting to show a dite of green.

Today was a good day to get pictures of the Red Maple, but it's the delicate flowers that can be easily overlooked.  Over the years I've tried to draw the maple from its start in the spring, to its vibrant color in the fall. 

Every day there's something to mentally record for its beauty--be it the joy on our granddaughter's face, or something as simple as the red maple's flower. 

Sempiternity

"When the barrier of Time pulls back to show us Sempiternity, the edge of that barrier is universally represented as making an unstable border, an undulating, shimmering, or pulsating zone of light around the doorway between the two dimensions."  ....

"The halo on images of angels and saints .... got its start as a little hole in the sky-shell through which sempiternal beings look down on us, and through which the everlasting light of Heaven shines around their heads as they do."*

* Rosary Mysteries, Meditations and the Telling of the Beads by Kevin Orlin Johnson

 I have not come across this explanation about halos in any of my icon books, nevertheless, the notion of angels venturing through that curtain is appealing. 

There's more to be done on these small pieces and recently as I've been working on them, I try to recall that God, the Saints, and the Holy Angels never abandon us. 

"We look to you to be our stable hope in a constantly changing world."

The Liturgy of the Hours

"Christ is Risen!"

 

"He Has Risen Indeed!"

Holy Week

Offering up a few more little sacrifices as a way to remember what this week is about. 

Collections

Collecting shells is just one of those things you get hooked on.  I'm always in search of moon shells and angel wings when we walk the beach--and their names certainly add to the appeal where they conjure up thoughts of the heavens. 

When I was growing up there were many of my peers and my parents' friends that had collections: some were very serious collectors.  All of them had a passion for what they collected, and all were enthusiastic about sharing their collection--or by extension--their hobbies with you.  At times it was if you had your own docent to point out all the things you never knew about said objects.

Here are three meaningful articles about collecting from Psychology Today: Childhood Collecting: A Neglected Connection Between Playing and Learning; The Collection Connection to Creativity; and Hobbies: the Personal Path to Creativity. 

Saint Patrick's Breasplate

                    Christ be with me, Christ within me
                    Christ behind me, Christ before me
                    Christ beside me, Christ to win me
                    Christ to comfort me and restore me
                    Christ beneath me, Christ above me
                    Christ in quiet, Christ in danger
                    Christ in hearts of all that love me
                    Christ in mouth of friend or stranger
                    (ca. 389-46)

Goodbye February

 At this point in the season, you're more inclined to drive over the snow than shovel it.  We're done with it, at least we want to believe that. 

You know what they say about New England weather though.  Thankfully March came in like a lamb and with a 56 degree start to the weekend,  a walk on the beach was a way to forget about the snow.