Unfinished Works

So much left to do, though the gifts received are opened, tried on, tasted, or read. I still have shopping, wrapping, writing and mailing to do before I'm finished with this holiday season.  As I was cleaning up, after trying again, a new recipe for squash, for dinner the other day, I thought, "Why make squash? Isn't there something else, that someone would really LOVE?"  Squash is pretty unique.  A few people really LOVE squash, and it's various versions.  Then, there are the majority of people who really HATE the look, taste and just the THOUGHT of squash, the vegetable.  I like it... I've decided that one of my unfinished jobs is to find something to make from squash that people will say, "yes, I'll try that."  MMM Good, what is it? I LOVE this!  Well, squash soup sounds like the thing for next year. I'm going to sign up for squash again, just for the challenge.

A friend writes, "Do something you really LOVE to do".  Besides draw and laugh with the little people we call children, and listen to how they talk and reason, I'm not clear on what I just LOVE or WANT to do before I'm finished here. Life truly is short. Do we really need squash?  Nature thought so; me too.

As I scrubbed my pans, I made a mental list, of things I MIGHT like to do SOME DAY.  Cookie sheets usually hold my favorite things. COOKIES are welcomed in most crowds, at most dinners or parties, but wouldn't it be great, if one day, to the whole world, SQUASH was well received? COOKIES are just so common, so ordinary (like most of my drawings!). If everybody LOVED SQUASH, now that would be something.

Scrubbing away, I also mentally listed people I've known in my life who are no longer living, or no longer in my life, too distant, or passed to another place or version of a different life.  Thoughts of them surface during holidays or life events. I ask myself if they'd had a checklist as the decades passed. As they sensed they were about finished with this life, or place, did they think that they'd done well or finished what they should have or could have or wanted to?  I look; I see things they've done, things they've created, objects they spent lots of time on, and I also see people they had some hand in "creating" so far.  Adding it all up, most of results are GOOD, like God said, when he'd finished creating the world! I'd really LOVE to make something, like He did, that continues to recreate itself better and better over the decades. So, I'll think on that - NEXT YEAR.

Winter Gatherings

The red squirrel hangs upside from back feet, and grips, like gorilla-glue, the branch with its' toes. The itty bitty but very fat creature is so strong that when finished stripping leaves and whatever it wants off that particular branch, it lifts his/her whole body straight up, grabs the larger branch with front paws, rights himself instantly, and with a measured flick of redbrown winterized tail, he's off like a shot, to the end of next wobbly branch, the next dried winter cache.

Skinny branches that I would never guess would hold a squirrel's weight are tested as quickly as a CPA works the math on a tax calculator. Questions answered in a flash: procede directly or change course, for more sure footing?  Without falling or fear, he goes to the end of the chosen stick, ruffles a globe of brown leaves for booty, devours rusty-colored prizes, and with full cheeks moves on to the next higher branch.

A bird's abandoned nest is tested for nuts, seeds, grain; a rustled collection in the crook of the tree seems to harbor some comfort, maybe a snack, a brief respite from the gathering and the coming snowstorm. How does he choose the day before the storm to collect things for the fridge and the kids? A slightly warmer day of opportunity and sunshine, a call from a cousin, or just a kind of knowing, is that its' gift?

That squirrel, isn't afraid to continually, instantly test things, to see if there is at the end of that treacherous path a treasure - or nothing.  It knows what it wants, and has the drive to accomplish the getting and is willing to risk everything, knowing it will probably catch itself if it falls, and then go on. The training or the genes operate smoothly, every gear hitting the right cog, every nerve creates just the right response: hop, jump, hang, switch, look, stop, chew, scratch, sniff, blink.  A limb on the oak tree is not a scarey tightwire dance, it is a wide placid country road to this rodent.  The tiny animal conquers both winter and peers by confidence and nature. I wonder, does it ever thanks its parents for its success, for its accomplishments, its learned skills. Competition and challenge don't appear to phase it.  Business logic - not considered;  its' own unique push and win, make its day, every day.  "Consider the lillies", Alvin.

The furry footlong sharp-clawed creature with the cute bushy tail learned to flex enough and often that it doesn't break with the pressure of an afternoon, or a memory of crossing a 4 lane street just moments before as a zillion cars que up for the streetlight.  It just moves through its day, as the day plays itself out, and that day's trouble is enough for one day. With all that exercise, it probably sleeps through the whole night without waking, too.

I wish the little Oak Imp well as he glances at our window, newfy dog, barking, me laughing. I am cheered.  In a pause, he's gone, not a hair harmed - today.  I've a grateful heart, learning what life is about, one more day. Simple, free entertainment/education.  Can the acrobat know s/he's on the blog?  How great it is that I won't know!  Or will I?

Mobil Magi

Soon there will be 3 Wise Men creeping across our porch, searching for a Star and hearing Angels at the end (or beginning) of a dream.  These 3 guys will be securely stationed on huge sheets of plexiglass, deftly painted from my memories, readings, limitations and suppositions. Gosh, they've been fun to create.  Hopefully, the three kingly fellows will startle (?) pedestrians and or city travelers, and cause wonder about how those guys actually found the exact spot they were looking for, without so much as a GPS attached to a cell phone.  They wandered, on foot, through a desert looking at stars, following stinking, spitting camels, lugging  jars of stuff they thought was hugely important; carting it all that way to some tiny city out in the middle of nowhere, just because a few folks (and angels) mentioned there might be an event going on that they should attend.  What can a baby do with Frankincense anyhow?  (And how do you spell that anyway?)


On the opposite side of the porch we'll install more painted plexi with babe in manger, a couple of sheep herders, along with babe's mom and pop, kneeling in the hay next to the sheep dung.  I did try with my acrylics and brushes and various measures of water to create that sweet Mary face, and those rough woven robes and dresses (but I skipped the dung). Maybe some of our little neighbor kids will get the picture, and go oooh or awww at the sight of the little Savior as I did, as a child. These last two weeks as I painted, I realized we each were that babe of hope in our day. Most of us, at our birth, stood for all that was good, as we lay in our blankets and swaddles, and cute sinless innocence. Adults around us believed the world was good again, and right had come to live in their house, because the miracle of us had arrived. We were the perfect answer to the world, at that moment.  Let's believe again; not so much in us, because we've all probably failed at that innocence and goodness along our way. But this is the season to bring hope alive anew. Talk to God. Think about it. Think about a Savior. Read the story in Luke. It's good. It's time.


(I'll post some photos soon on Flickr.)

Evolution

I know. It's controversial. That is, if it's scientific. This is not.  I was raking leaves this fall morning. Hubby has drained the pond, and the fountain no longer runs clear and bubbly down the flat rocks, around and around their circular way. The sound and sight was so pleasant this summer.  We fooled the robins, wrens, chickadees, sparrows and crows all summer; we knew it wasn't a real pond. It was actually created more than two summers ago when our Newfoundland puppy needed a place to cool off. We first attempted to satisfy the idea that we lived by the lake and doggy wanted to swim in a pool; the pool being a kiddie plastic swimming pool, donated by our friendly remodel contractor.  Nope. Didn't work. Puppy drank pool water all summer. Next the pool became a huge stock watering tank - bigger, bluer, and much closer to the actual lake concept. Nope. Still didn't work. Doggy stood by the edge, up on the porch step above it, and drank as much as he wanted, but would not set foot into the 2 and a half foot depth of our blue wonder.

A year went by. The driveway pond algaed up and grossed us out, then gave way to the brilliant concept of a fountain and contemplation pool in the yard, in the midst of the spring tulips. Pond guy and pumps were employed. Rocks and plants surrounded the stock tank, disguising it as such, and throughout 2010, it made us believe we had a unique water feature in the yard. We pretend it's a lake. Doggy still just sat by the edge, and drank out of the cool blue. Not a fuzzy foot would he put into the effort.

So, as I raked the leaves today and moved part of the stack of winter wood waiting to do its warming duty in just a month, I heard birds. Looking up there were birds. Lots of them. Flitting in and out, all over the pond rocks, in the plantings, and up and down over the turqoise edge of the now drained pond. They chipped and chattered and flitted, giving not even a nod to my presence with the rake. I walked closer, still they didn't care. At the bottom of the 2 foot lake is a mess of rotting, soggy, brown, black and barely orange/yellow leaves and one inch of water. The birds drink and eat and party all day. The dog sits at the edge watching, guarding his lake, and they could care less.  It's their time, and their place.

With enough bird droppings added to the mixture, next year we might see a little blue man walk out of the lake, ready to be marvelled at and teach us something we didn't know or believe before.  Maybe the earthworms that have taken form in there this fall will evolve into a whole new species. Can't wait for the spring thaw.  In the meantime, I think I'll head south and visit my grandson.

Whoa!

Whoa! That's what my grandmother would say to the car she was learning to drive, out on the prairie. I can just imagine how she planted her right foot down as hard as a size 5 foot could be planted on that pedal, hanging on to the wheel, turning sharply to avoid those fence posts, then quitting. Getting out, slamming the door behind her and right then and there, announcing she would NOT, under any circumstances drive that thing again. She kept her word. She did not drive in all the time I knew her. Grandma was not a quitter, but she knew what she could and could NOT do.  When the tough things came along, her feisty self stood against them, straight. (I can't say tall, because she was less than 5 feet high). Someone once told me, when I was a young girl, that she climbed up onto the top roof of a small building on her farm, after a strong prairie wind blew the whole thing off, onto the side of the building. She pulled the whole thing back up onto the building and nailed it into place. It didn't sail off in the next wind that's for sure. I don't know if that story is myth or truth. All I know for sure, is that it inspires, as does my mother.


A rough wind blew into her days a couple of days ago. It did knock the wind completely out of her sails for just a moment or two. But, she called again today. She's collected her friends, (some call her family) and they are standing by, encouraging her, helping her change course, just enough to stay strong and flex, face into the wind, one more time. Again.. an inspiring woman to take a life-lesson from. Thanks Mom.

And So It Begins

Oct 25, 2010

It seems many people start a blog/website and then abandon the process after a year or two.

I will, say right up front, that this will start as a one year endeavor. It Begins October 25, 2010. I set this goal to give myself time to learn the ropes, lingo, and process; if I want to continue after having met my 365 day commitment or if I want to quit or somehow evolve to something different, I will let it be known here (if humanly possible). If I want to continue, I will set a new goal based on life in October 2011. Follow along, join in the story, the poem or song... or just "lurk" like I have done for more than six years now. Off we go!

Saddle up. Cover the wagon (it might rain hard) and hang on. If I fall off, please lend a hand, tell me to pick myself up, get over it and get back on the horse. This trail ride might be a bit bumpy or hit some rough weather. Other adventurers have gone before us. We Can Do This Too. Where's my hat?