Oil painting is officially an addiction for me. So does that make it one of my vices? Either way, I don’t care and I can’t stop! I sit in my studio and go into a trance-like state, then before I know it, 6 or 8 hours have gone by! I start painting when my son leaves for school and the …
Obsessing Over Oils
I’m obsessed with oil paints! I’ve avoided them so many years–always sticking with the safer acrylics–but the moment I squeezed out my first oil palette, I was spellbound by the pigment oozing from the tube and the intensity of the colors. I instantly loved the smell of the paint and linseed (strange, I know) and how the vibrant color was …
A Dream Deferred . . .
I came upon the poem by Langston Hughes today. I don’t think I have heard it since high school but this evening, I realize what he meant when he describes unfulfilled goals, “Does it dry uplike a raisin in the sun?Or fester like a sore–And then run?Does it stink like rotten meat?Or crust and sugar over–like a syrupy sweet? Maybe …
Rocky Mountain Christmas
Cozied up in our Colorado home watching the lights twinkle on the tree with the snow-covered mountains as a backdrop out the window. Yo Yo Ma’s haunting yet lovely cello playing and sipping cocoa with a pile of marshmallows. . . and still, no Christmas spirit. Where has it gone? I long for those years when my children were small …
Starfish
One more star tonight . . . the song has been running through my mind all day–reminding me I’m not alone and my friend is still out there. I found a starfish on the beach last month. I knew it wasn’t going to make it because he was so far from the water’s edge. Sorry little guy, but I wanted …
Leaves
I’m longing to jump into a pile of leaves. Fall is here, my favorite, and yet I find myself so melancholy. Something about the passage of time I guess. I love living in the south, but there should be changing leaves–and at least a hint of some cool weather. Memories of kicking up leaves and the smells of summer fading …
Red Geraniums
“RED GERANIUMS” by Martha Haskell Clark Life did not bring me silken gowns,Nor jewels for my hair,Nor signs of gabled foreign townsIn distant countries fair,But I can glimpse, beyond my pane, a green and friendly hill,And red geraniums aflame upon my window sill. The brambled cares of everyday,The tiny humdrum things,May bind my feet when they would stray,But still my …
