Sidewalk Chalk, Mother's Boon

I made a quick run up to the gallery today. The Evil Genius came with me so Someone could have a little peace and quiet at home for a change...poor man, the kid adores him and constantly follows him while chattering like a monkey. No kidding, it doesn't stop until the kid's asleep!

When we got there, the kid was climbing the walls...

...so I pointed out the sidewalk chalk they keep on hand, and all the lovely, pristine sidewalk around the outside of the building. Distraction achieved. For a few minutes.

Then, I had to come and see what he'd drawn.

First there was the sun and "...a whole mess of flowers, mommy..."

...and some fish on the moon.

Then there was his family. Daddy (with curly hair)...

...himself...

...me (complete with a flower in my long hair and an "I lov U floating above me. We'll be working on spelling this week)...

...and Gramlin, with her special boot (she's got tendon problems with her ankle, and the boot is to help fix them without surgery. I called her Gimpy Sue when I saw it. Nice, me.).

We're all connected by a line to show we're family.

Finally, there's a sunset...

...and four of us on the moon.
Hmm...does he mean to say we're loony??

All Good Things Come to an End

The gallery show ends today. We had a few folks pass through, but it was a slow month all around, even for the gallery. I don't know what, if anything, we sold, won't know until later next month when they'll send a check and (hopefully) a list of what we sold...or when we do an inventory, if we can be bothered. I know one person wanted to talk to K about designing a logo for him...hopefully that will come to fruition.


Meanwhile, I am spending today at the gallery with S, taking down the show and cleaning out the room for the next artist. If I can figure out how, I'll be putting the framed and matted pieces up on my Etsy site later this month. I know you're just holding your breath...


I am considering trying to mount a full showing later this year or sometime next year, filling the room in its entirety with my work (maybe a few really big pieces, if I can manage to get them printed), but it depends on our finances and whether I can manage to put together more framed art. Ah, well...one may dream...

Closer to Home

All photographs were taken with a Kodak Easy Share cx7525 camera and are unretouched. Except for cropping, the pictures have not been manipulated in any way.

We come to the end of the virtual show. Thanks for sticking with me through all of it! Today, I am officially one year older than I was yesterday. I'm at the gallery, helping host a reception for our show and for a second show the gallery is holding, and trying to ignore the fact that another year has flown past and I haven't published, still have a humongous arse, and am feeling rather lumpy and useless right now. Oh, well.

Meanwhile, here's the last of the virtual show - the real one will hang until the end of the month.

All photographs were taken with a Kodak Easy Share cx7525 camera and are unretouched. Except for cropping, the pictures have not been manipulated in any way.

~~~~~

Turtle

Turtle

Hello friend
How do you do?
It’s a curious sort of day
When there’s a turtle in the wheelbarrow
How did he get there?
He can’t have flown
Could he?

We have quite a bit of yard, more than people who are not gardeners need. We can’t keep up with it, really – one Summer, the grass grew so high we called the back yard our own Serengeti and looked for the giraffes that must surely come along at any moment. One of our neighbors felt sorry for us, took pity on our son (and his desire to play in the yard) and stealth-mowed it for us one afternoon when we were away. Finally, we hired a lawn service, an extravagance indeed. They were very thorough, and much to my delight, observant – they found this turtle in the grass near the woods and moved him before he became something entirely less engaging via a good mowing. My son was fascinated – little boys and turtles, peas and carrots. To keep him safe, the gentleman who found him placed him in our sad, rusty, entirely ill-used wheelbarrow. Once the lawn service was gone, we released our new friend. I suppose he’s still about, but he’s careful to avoid places where he may run into my son and my son’s curiosity.
~~~~~Dangerous Lady

Dangerous Lady

She is quiet
Just fed
Perhaps napping
I cannot tell
She is less a danger to me
Than her web can be
Stretched across the stairs
Found by my face in the night
A gossamer reminder
That I share my home with many

These spiders have long fascinated me. I don’t know their proper name, but am hardly bothered by my ignorance – I call them Writing Spiders and am content with that moniker. This one had spun her web in a bush at Ft. Yargo State park, and was as long as my thumb. I wonder what stories her weaving tells? Some universal mysteries are best left to themselves, I suppose.
~~~~~Harbinger

Harbinger

One
Little
Yellow
Flower
Became a burst
Of fireworks
But first
It was
One
Little
Yellow
Flower

Braselton, Ga - The forsythia is anxious to be the first to announce spring. It doesn’t seem to mind that sometimes it is too soon, that it will probably be dusted with snow or glazed with ice or suffer wind, rain, and chill – it has felt the hints of spring in its roots and it will shout for all to see, Spring! Spring! Spring!
~~~~~Ascension

Ascension

Upwardly mobile
In an achingly slow fashion
The snail was wise enough
To avoid the poison ivy
Where it was wise
I was merely lucky

In Oakwood, Georgia, just beside the highway, is Elachee Nature Center. They have miles of walking trails that are open to the public, the science center to members. We have a membership, but spend more time on the trails than inside. The trails offer trees, ferns, bushes, flowers, fungi, birds, animal tracks, frogs, lizards…and snails. We decided to take a hike one day that turned into a six mile jaunt through woods, over creeks, up and down hills, and quite possibly through time and fairy realms, too. Who knows? This snail may have been someone’s steed…
~~~~~Froggy Friend

Froggy friend

Oh, hello
It’s lovely and damp here
And I enjoy the trickle
From the hose that is cross-threaded
Will you be my friend?
I’ll sing for you…

Braselton, Ga - Imagine my surprise when I met this fellow one morning! It was before the watering ban, and I would get up early to water the Iris, Morning Glories, Rowan Trees, and the Hosta that I call the Muppet plant because it is large, shaggy, and friendly. The frog hung about for some days before finding less paparazzi-infested places to linger.
~~~~~Blue Glory

Blue Glory

In the morning
They burst
From coiled-tight
Spiral tubes
To brilliant blue trumpets
Sometimes wet with dew
Or collected rain

Braselton, Ga - Some years ago I planted these Morning Glories beside my front stoop, hoping they would climb the trellis I gave them and onto the railing one story above. They did not disappoint. There were two shades of blue, this one and a lighter one. This one has come back on its own, year after year – the lighter one is rare, a prize, and it’s a treasure hunt to find its seeds to save and pant next year. When their heart-shaped leaves begin to unfurl each spring, the waiting game begins – which one will it be? Purple? Medium blue? Light blue? Or some other one the birds have brought me as thanks for the seed...? Morning glories make me smile, they are such happy flowers.

Out and About

All photographs were taken with a Kodak Easy Share cx7525 camera and are unretouched. Except for cropping, the pictures have not been manipulated in any way.

Back to the virtual show...on the homestretch, now...the last post in this series will drop on Sunday.

~~~~~


Yellow Roof

Yellow Roof

I fancied there was someone there
Hiding under the yellow roof
Of his mushroom house
Some Gnome or Fay creature
Biding his time until I looked away
And he was gone in a mote of light

Clarkesville, Ga, Dragon’s Rest wood - For someone who dislikes dining on mushrooms, I sure do photograph them a lot. White, red, green, grey, and yellow, when I spot them I’m like a child who has noticed half-buried treasure – I can’t wait to take their picture. It is possible I’m hoping that the photograph will show more than a fungus…that maybe this time, I will see a face peeking from behind the stem. This bright yellow surprise was half-hidden in my mother’s woods, waiting for me to notice and wonder if anyone was home.
~~~~~
The Road Taken


The Road Taken

So many people regret
The road not taken
Wondering “What if…?”
When the day is grey
And the path long
But I…I wonder
About the road taken
What is ahead,
Around the bend,
Beyond the clouds?

Clarkesville, Ga - My Mum and I were en route to the GHCA one Autumn morning when I snapped this picture. It had been raining, but the sun was working to shine through the clouds. It was a good day to be creative…or to sit by a fire with a cup of tea, some cookies, and a good book. I stared out the windows and was awestruck by the road, the trees, the clouds…happy to be there, in the moment.
~~~~~
Suwanee Fountain


Suwanee Fountain

Somehow the light knew
What I wanted
And it obliged

That day, that Summer day in Suwanee Ga, I was so angry. My mouth was pursed, my eyes squinched and mean, my temper short. It was a very bad day to be out in the world, let alone with four little boys of varying ages and dispositions, but my son needed to play with his friends, to be out of the house and moving about, and I needed to be with my friends, too. I squashed that anger down, down, deep down, and played with the boys, all the boys, wrestling them in the grass when they tired of the fountain’s play, and chasing them around the park, squeals of laughter and giddy giggles following after us, streamers of joy. The day changed, the light changed, and for one timeless moment everything was lit within, without, all about. The fountain flowed mercury-silver, time hung all uncertain between minutes, and I forgot that I was angry for a little while.
~~~~~
Smiling Sun


Smiling Sun

He may be faded
Weathered
A bit cracked and creaky
But this old man’s smile
Welcomes all comers
With equal warmth

This wooden sculpture hangs on my mother’s house, almost blending in with the wall. I made her a card of this photo, which she sent as a greeting to a friend in Afghanistan, a reminder of home and friends and the time he’s spent hunting in the woods nearby. Even in the desert, the sun – this sun – is a friend.

Playful Polymer

A few more of S's delightful pieces!

The next three are pins...

Bird of Fantasy

Little Compton, RI

All photographs were taken with a Kodak Easy Share cx7525 camera and are unretouched. Except for cropping, the pictures have not been manipulated in any way.

Tiger Heart

Tiger Heart

In the tall grass
Ignoring the poison ivy
Thrusting boldly
From the surrounding greenery
A blaze of orange
Proud
Wild
And a little fierce

These happy flowers were growing alongside Round Pond Road in Little Compton, RI – a few here, a few there, unmindful of the profusion of poison ivy and roadside grasses that seemed determined to keep the Tiger Lilies contained. I adore bold, sassy flowers, blooms that thrive in the unlikeliest of places and share their cheerful disposition with passers-by.
~~~~~Echinacea Harvester

Echinacea Harvester

Little cousin
Flying sister
What kept you so long upon
This blossom?
Surely it was some marvelous scent
Or flavor
That captivated you so thoroughly
That I could photograph you
With impunity

I think everyone who sets out to photograph nature, to capture her in bits and pieces, little vignettes, has one of these shots – I’ve seen so many of them, they could fill a book. A bee on an Echinacea flower is about as Summery as it gets. Bees are a blessing, and their recent decline has been worrying. I was glad to see this one, so intent upon her flower that she never paid me any mind at all.
~~~~~Seaside Rose and Lady


Seaside Rose and Lady

Warm and pink-scented
With a touch of the sea
The breeze made her hiding place
Bob and sway
But she didn’t mind the motion
It was more the tourists
Interlopers
Who gave her pause

I used to walk along Round Pond Road when I was younger, all the way down to the sea. Little Compton is a small town in a small state, and for a girl in her teens, confused about the world and why people behaved as they did, there was something wonderful about the rosehips, so beautiful, so ordinary, growing along the road. I walked with friends, with my father’s mother, and alone, and just seeing this image beings me right back to the road, to the pebbles and stones under my feet, the hushing of the little waves rolling along the not-too-distant shore, the smell of sun on stone, sun on sand, sun on my skin, sun on the plants and the seaweed and the sea. I wanted a picture of one of the flowers, almost all of them faded or turned into the tomato-like rosehips. Not until I was home, looking through the photos, did I spy the lady, demure in her flower-bower. To this day, she brings a smile to my lips.

Jekyll (no Hyde)

All photographs were taken with a Kodak Easy Share cx7525 camera and are unretouched. Except for cropping, the pictures have not been manipulated in any way.

Kaleri Resurrection Fern

Kaleri Resurrection Fern

Bump, bump, bumpy
Cicatrized
They cling to trees
Nestle in roots
Tiny brown clumps
Of life-to-be
Until rain comes
Wakes the green
Uncurling
Born anew

A few years after my son was born, I took a trip to Jekyll Island, Ga. I had been before and fallen in love with the trees there, with the beaches and wooden walkways, and the old bookstore that smelled of dust and time, as bookstores should. I went because I needed a break, a collection of moments that didn’t include nappies, snacks, temper-tantrums, cooking, dishes, laundry, the endless litany of house-keepery and mothering. I spent three days on Jekyll, walking and photographing anything that didn’t move away fast enough. Trees are remarkable un-movish. There were ferns in the trees, some brown and crumbly and some thriving. Someone told me they were resurrection ferns, seeming dead until warmth and rain woke them from their winter slumber. I called them Kaleri Ferns because the bumps (fern spores) reminded me of the scars on the Kaleri, an African tribe that decorates their bodies with scar patterns to look like crocodiles or other fierce creatures.

~~~~~

Beautiful Roof

But the View...

Out or In?

Step Into My Parlor

Beautiful Roof; But the View…; Out or In?; Step Into My Parlor

Old house
Once proud
Wealthy
Was a plantation
When such things were common
Built of tabby
(not the cat, the material)
Still weathering storms
Despite no roof,
No windows
No doors
No people to shelter any more

Jekyll Island, Ga - Oh, what to do when the skies are such a blue, and clear, clear, clear? Photograph the remains of the Horton House on Jekyll, of course! The house is built of tabby, a material comprised of shells, sand, lime, and water. Lately, the house has been restored, and so the walls have a two-tone look to them. I’ve never come across another tabby house. It is wonderful stuff, textured, groovy, colorful. I found the spider hole by accident, or perhaps cosmic design, and was delighted…what a beautiful home she has!

More of K

Again with the dark, blurry photos...I think my camera is possessed!

Gaia's Garden, Winter - acrylic on canvas


Gaia's Garden, Dusk - acrylic on canvas

K's favorite piece in the show - I am going back to the gallery to try and get a better picture because this is such a lovely piece...
Water color

Crone Tree - acrylic on canvas

A Celtic knotwork piece...watercolor

This one's in one of her coloring books, too, and I've had a lot of fun with it...watercolor

Moon Goddess - acrylic on canvas (that's silver, not white)

The Galery Show, Grave Matters

All photographs were taken with a Kodak Easy Share cx7525 camera and are unretouched. Except for cropping, the pictures have not been manipulated in any way.

Is it wrong that I'm posting the cemetery pictures on T's Birthday? Nothing personal, hun.

~~~~~

Soldier's Rest

Soldier’s Rest

Oh, how weary I am become
How sore of foot, of heart
And longing for a place to rest my head
I seek peaceful ground
Hallowed not by the blood of my fellows
Not by loss, pain, sorrow, fear, glory
But rather blessed by the shade of grand trees
The hymn of the gentle wind
A bit of earth to call my own
For all eternity

In Clarkesville, Ga, behind the main drag and somewhat easy to miss, is a forlorn little graveyard. I imagine at one time it was quite fine, with headstones, footstones all erect and easily read. Family plots were walled in, fenced, tidy. Today, the stones are tumbled, toppled, gone entirely, sometimes nothing more than a declivity to mark where someone rests. The fences rust, bend, creak, break, and make way for the trees that began as lovingly planted saplings but now reach high and wide for the sun and sky. The few stones still standing are not easy to read. The place has been largely forgotten – but not entirely. If you go on certain days (determined by a judicious application of chaos to the calendar), you may meet an odd little man. He is affable, chatty, liable to follow you as you traipse around the graves, telling you tales of hauntings and how he was called to tidy the place up a bit, to haul away trash and neaten the jumbled stones and put a little spit and polish where it will do some good. If you listen, he will tell you how many bags of trash he’s hauled, how many hours, days he’s worked. He has pictures of his ghostly sightings and will tell you about the people beneath your feet. It was not he who put the flags and metal markers on the graves, but he will make sure they look sharp. There’s a wealth of history where the dead sleep…
~~~~~

Floating Window

Floating Window

Outside the sun
Blasted downward
A fury of rays
Within the coolth
Of the quiet crypt
Floated the light
Filtered through glass
A vision in the dark

Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta, Ga, is worth a visit whether you fancy being among the departed or no. The crypts, the mausoleums, are as fine as any house, sometimes nicer. I went in the Autumn, but the day was as hot as any in the Summer. I was grateful that long-ago people planted trees as memorials, planted gardens for plots, placed benches for longer visits – the shade was a benediction. The crypt doors were often open, the public kept out with iron grills but the interior still visible. Through one doorway, I saw this window, seeming to float in the darkness. I had to shoot it through the grillwork, an opening of perhaps an inch square, and didn’t know until I got home what I might have…the light was too harsh for me to see my view screen!
~~~~~
Bark Rose

Bark Rose

I know what you see
You’re not alone
Everyone tells me
What it looks like
A bark rose

I find cemeteries to be lovely places, especially the old ones. Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta is as much a garden as a place for the dead to rest their weary bones. This tree grows on a wall, back near the MARTA tracks beside a walkway. The first thing I thought when I saw it was “Oh, a bark rose…”, which is not at all what other folks have said when they've seen the picture. Still…I see a rose. I suppose it’s all in the eye of the beholder…

The Gallery Show, Green Animals Topiary Garden

All photographs were taken with a Kodak Easy Share cx7525 camera and are unretouched. Except for cropping, the pictures have not been manipulated in any way.

Gourd

Bumpy Beauty

Gourd; Bumpy Beauty

Small things
Hanging up high
I almost missed
Your happy presence

In Rhode Island there’s a colonial era house that’s been converted into a museum. It’s a fine old place, and the garden is beautifully and painstakingly kept as close to its old glory as possible. If it is called anything but Green Animals, I do not know. Green animals, because of the topiaries that abound in the garden. Twining up a trellis were some vines – close inspection revealed, inches from each other, a little green and yellow gourd no bigger than my palm, and a bumpy cream colored squash that I very much wanted to touch – but didn’t. You never know what’s under that broad, green leaf…
~~~~~

Lake at the Heart

Lake At the Heart

This flower
This one flower
Was not shy
This flower
This one flower
Demanded to be noticed
I obliged

Green Animals, RI – I have many photographs of this one flower. I couldn’t help myself. The colors you see? They are true to nature – I never retouch or alter color (if only because I just don’t know how, yet). The drops of water on the petals seemed an invitation to sip, were I a bee with a thirst. I was almost overwhelmed by a mad desire to lick the droplets from the petals, perhaps take in the brilliance of the bloom at the same time. I left it alone, though – some winged thing would better benefit from those tiny drops, and I knew the gift shop had bottled water for sale, be it not so vivid on the tongue.

~~~~~

Translucence

Translucence

That Summer day we turned a corner
Walking in the garden
And found the flower waiting
Tall as a man
Bloom larger than a plate
Backlit by the fearsome sun
Softening the light
To something more bearable

Again at Green Animals – this flower was so stunning; I’d never seen anything like it, with the sunlight seeming to stream through the bloom, colored softly pink. To print a photo true to size is not possible, at least not for me – it was a good eighteen inches across!

~~~~~

Golden Ratio

Golden Ratio

A mathematician could tell you
Where the next petal will curl
And the next
I am no mathematician
But I could tell you other secrets
About the flower
That no numbers can quantify

This was another of the blooms at Green Animals that caught my eye. Many of the plants that I photographed at the garden were quite far away, set back from the path, and I had to stretch my poor zoom to its limits to get my shots, as I didn’t want to step off the pathway and risk harming an unseen plant. It’s a happy flower, isn’t it? As large as my doubled fists, it bobbed in the occasional breeze, nodding a greeting. It stilled only for its close-up, which I happily took while my family sighed at yet another delay in our promenade.

~~~~~

Pink Porcelain Petals

Pink Porcelain Petals

The artist carefully dipped her brush
And with slow, unwavering strokes
Colored each petal

Nature certainly does like us to notice her, shouting as she does with her bold, bright colors. I thought the petals of this flower looked like painted porcelain, like something an artist would be especially proud of and put on display in the brightest corner of the studio.

~~~~~

Spiraling Into the Center

Spiraling Into the Center

Tiny, frilly, and merry
These little blooming friends
Shouted
Wanting us to admire them
In their fine skirts
Their cork-screwed tongues
Giving us a raspberry
As we passed by without comment

They were maybe a half-inch across, but their attitude was as big as all outdoors. They were loud, their party in the greenery raucous with color, and their little curly centers just stopped me in my tracks and evoked a laugh. I’m laughing still.