The Seasons Spinning ’round Again

After 59 years of life,  I decide to write about the seasons.  In doing so, I face the inevitable possibility that this post will be passed by for the seeming cliche of the colours, sounds and weather of it.  Do human beings ever get tired of the seasons?  The rituals and festivals that each season offers?

I spend a lot of time making observations of a single pond, the flats and the slopes that move onto those flats.  It’s not a large space in area, but it is just perfect for getting up close and noticing the life of it. Given the blessing of this repetitive experience, I am able to see the changes in the wildlife, water fowl, the plant life and the water.  The weather imposes its own impact on everything on the space, including my choice of dress, footwear and feeling about it.

With years passing, I’ve got to admit that a person DOES slow down and notice more and mayhaps appreciate the ‘beauty in the simple things’.

I remember requiring my students to keep ‘magic’ journals and it was evident that some of them despised the activity, maybe all of them despised the activity…but I told them to hold on to those journals…shove them in a drawer somewhere…pull them out years later and treasure them. I held onto any pages that some left behind as they bounced out the classroom, tearing toward summer vacation with wild abandon.  They wrote about the ‘stuff of life’…times that REALLY mattered.

DSC_1179 DSC_1178 DSC_1177 DSC_1176 ?????????? DSC_1174 DSC_1173 ?????????? DSC_1171Just like a friend can not insist and succeed at having their buddy quit smoking, there is no way that an adult can convince youth to slow down and take things in. (in truth, there is no way that an adult can convince other adults to slow down)  Life seems to be a rush.  Life seems to be about accomplishing more, making more, getting rich, becoming powerful, accumulating wealth and consuming.  This is all an illusion.  STOP.  Literally, smell the flowers.  If you STOP long enough to complete that gesture, the time it takes to smell a flower, you will have had time enough to utter, “A Huh” or to connect with something that truly counts…a connection with a memory or a connection with gratitude.

Taking pause is a gift.

I’m including a couple of photographs of the pond at Frank’s Flats that capture the seasons.  If I gaze out my kitchen window, I observe the very same story at a single sparrow’s nest.  In fact, just before the cold weather blew in for 2014, a male and female fledgling returned to their nest, Mr. and Mrs. long gone.  One does not have to travel far, in order to watch the seasons change.  This post is written as a dedication to my Uncle Bob, my father’s young brother who ,yesterday, passed from this earthly life, grew wings, and journeyed into the beauty of forever.  May his soul rest perpetually, in peace.

DSC_1162 DSC_1091 DSC_1043 ??????????Max and Dandelions 2I encourage my readers to find one place and return to it again and again.  Here you will find time to meditate/pray and to connect with what is really essential to a healthy spirit, body and life.

Circle by Harry Chapin

“All my life’s a circle;
Sunrise and sundown;
Moon rolls thru the nighttime;
Till the daybreak comes around.

All my life’s a circle;
But I can’t tell you why;
Season’s spinning round again;
The years keep rollin’ by.

It seems like I’ve been here before;
I can’t remember when;
But I have this funny feeling;
That we’ll all be together again.

No straight lines make up my life;
And all my roads have bends;
There’s no clear-cut beginnings;
And so far no dead-ends.

Chorus:
I found you a thousand times;
I guess you done the same;
But then we lose each other;
It’s like a children’s game;

As I find you here again;
A thought runs through my mind;
Our love is like a circle;
Let’s go ’round one more time.

Losing Elma Flaherty

Elma slipped away without my knowing.  Within our family circle, she had been a forever-friend and I can not remember life without her.  And then, after my knock at her door and my entry into her home, I discovered her chair was gone.  Her things were gone. Elma was gone. And no words were left behind.

Elma passed on April 8 of 2013.  I was sitting next to my beautiful Mom in Belleville General Hospital the day that Elma passed away.

At Thanksgiving, I remember Elma because for most of twenty-five Thanksgivings, maybe thirty, Elma was sitting at my feast table, with my children and our friends.  I will remember her again this year.  I love you, Elma, and may you rest in peace.

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Elma Repairing my toilet seat. IMG_5677 Thanksgiving Dinner 2008 035 Elma in Barons July 2 2010 IMG_5565 P1040853 P1050042 P1050049

 

Morning Sketch #5: Rien Poortvliet

This sketch was about texture.  Given that I own the Dutch version of the book, Noah’s Ark, I can’t translate what is written on the next couple of pages.  I thought it would be just a tad overwhelming to paint the studio image.  I would assume that this is Poortvliet’s studio.

Instead, I painted from one of the artist’s sketches of two wild boars.  I’m going to assume that on the lower image, he had decided to compose by moving the boars to the middle background instead of in the far right of the painting.  Is that why my readers suppose he has circled that section of his visual journal?  So fun.

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Morning Sketch #4: Rien Poortvliet

It’s very obvious to me lately that I’m in need of some real study of proportion.  This morning’s sketch again lacked the proper posture and proportions for the tiger. (placement of head, thickness of back end…adjusted but still not accurate.)  I’m going to remain positive, however, knowing full well that if you practice a skill every day, you will improve.  I have had a long ‘go’ at painter’s block.  Regular practice is now in the cards.  What I really hope is that I will learn something new every day through that practice.

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Light

I lit the three candles on the Advent wreath this morning, while I made my coffee.  I also played a Mennonite tune that my father had sent to me via Youtube…and I felt so warmed by the love and the light, that I just sat down on one of my yellow chairs and prayed.  I am grateful.

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