Judy's Chimney

A lone sentinel marks the spot when the thirteen victims of the Shelton Laurel Massacre were held the night before being marched off to their deaths.

This chimney is all that remains of Judy Shelton's cabin. . .

Painting With Suzy

 

On Thursday, I had a playdate at my friend Louise's house where the talented watercolorist Suzanne DesLauriers held a mini-workshop for us. Suzy is not only a gifted painter; she is also an excellent teacher. You can check out her Facebook page for more about where she teaches.

                                                    

We began with exploring texture achieved by various surprising means--string, cheesecloth, plastic wrap, and salt.

Then a quick exercise on primary and secondary colors and the mixing thereof...

Next Suzy walked us through a mountain scene: sky and clouds (formed with dabs from wadded paper towels) and the rows of mountains (illustrating layering washes of color) to the green and yellow foreground where we used the sharp end of a brush to scritch little weeds into the paint. It was a fun exercise--but I'm going to have to go back and put a little more color on the farthest row of mountains--they weren't meant to look snow covered.

 

We began two more paintings--a sunrise and a stormy sky--but it was growing late. We were thrilled to hear Suzy say we'd finish them next time. Next time!

Neighbors

 

Josie Has a Play Date

I am getting ready for a playdate. My friend is coming over. I am fixing a tea party with all my castle people. How does it look?

It's almost time. We are going down to meet them at my house.

I am so excited! This will be the best day EVER!

There is my friend and her papa. He had to change the tire on his truck because it was flat but they finally got here. I was worried the playdate might not happen.

She was a little shy at first because she is much younger than me, but she liked playing in the sand pile. I played there some but also in the branch and I got all wet.

Then we came up to my house and I got some dry clothes. 

We had lunch.

She was still a little shy but I think we are getting to be friends.

After lunch I showed her my castle people.

We had lots of things to play with.

I think she liked the tea set the best. We made raspberry oatmeal tea and she was very good at sharing.

I can't wait for our next play date!

 

River Time

What a wonderful thing a river is! I don't go paddling or fishing but just the sight and sound of the flowing water brings a kind of renewal.

I love that it's my neighbor--not close enough to be a flood potential but just a few minutes down the road and on my way to almost anywhere I might go.

The mountain view is always there and always deeply satisfying; the river is a lovely joy--perhaps because I don't see it every day.

 

Practice. Practice. Practice

 

Rambling Through a Garden of Memory

I have only one hollyhock this year but it makes me very happy. I always wanted a row of them--against, perhaps a white picket fence but that's not happening. Neither are the masses of delphiniums I once coveted and tried to grow but failed. I walk around and see the ghosts of those garden dreams.

Many years ago I had a bed of fancy roses--but the spraying that seemed necessary to keep them alive and blooming was too much. I do have this fine little red rose--a gift from a neighbor back in '76. She rooted it from her own shrub--put a cutting in the ground and covered it with a Ball quart jar. Forty-five years later, it's still going strong.

Another survivor that makes me happy is this perennial Bachelor's Button.  Therese in France featured one on her blog maybe ten years ago and I was enraptured with the gorgeous cobalt blue and lavender bloom. I acquired a plant soon after and every year at this time, it makes me think of my blog friend in Toulouse.

Everywhere I look, there are ghosts and memories--the tidy Japanese influenced plantings around the goldfish pool that have renounced their dwarf evergreen status and are striving for wilderness designation, the Angel Wing Begonias my grandmother gave me when we moved from Tampa, the lilac that was a gift from a departed friend, the orchid cacti from a tenant about twenty years ago, the Weeping Willow and the River Birch that were skinny sticks when I planted them  . . .

You can grow a lot of memories in almost half a century.

 

Sunrise

 

Floating . . .

A floating island

Manifests itself, a-swim

In a sea of cloud.

 

Small Gods by Terry Pratchett

                              

One of those book pushers on Facebook (Mario? Barbara?) suggested some time back that I might like Small Gods. Oh, I do, I do!

Pratchett's wry humor is at work here, as is his wisdom. I found myself bookmarking many passages, and, rather than undertake a review, I'm going to do some quoting.

 

"Humans! They lived in a world where the grass continued to be green and the sun rose every day and flowers regularly turned into fruit, and what impressed them? Weeping statues. And wine made out of water. A mere quantum-mechanistic tunnel effect, that'd happen anyway if you were prepared to wait zillions of years. As if the turning of sunlight into wine, by means of vines and grapes and time and enzymes wasn't a thousand times more impressive and happened all the time."

"It is a popular fact that nine-tenths of the brain is not used and, like most popular facts, it is wrong. Not even the most stupid Creator would go to the trouble of making the human head carry around several pounds of unnecessary gray goo if its only real purpose was, for example, to serve as a delicacy for certain remote tribesmen in unexplored valleys. It is used. And one of its functions is to make the miraculous seem ordinary and turn the unusual into the usual."

"Because if this was not the case, then human beings, faced with the daily wondrousness of everything, would go around wearing big stupid grins, similar to those worn by certain remote tribesmen who occasionally get raided by the authorities and have the contents of their plastic greenhouses very seriously inspected.  They'd say 'Wow!' a lot. And no one would do much work. "

It's a story about gods and philosophers and religions and turtles and eagles and a fellow with a perfect memory. I loved it. Highly recommended.

Still At It

And still really enjoying playing with watercolors! I'm working with the exercises in two different books--that's where most of these images come from.  Though I can't resist adding a bit of background or even a gnome.

I  stick the finished exercises in the corner cabinet (the two shelves not occupied by Josie's castle people,) not because I think they're worthy of display, but so I can look at them while at meals and figure out what worked and what didn't.

That yellow iris looks flat--needs highlights; need to do better on preliminary sketches; the puddles on the road actually work but the whole picture is kinda blah; and what is supporting that eggplant anyway?

In anticipation of a mini-watercolor workshop that a talented friend is giving next week, I've upgraded my supplies according to her suggestions--and spent a breathtaking (to me, anyway) amount of money on better quality brushes and paints-which just arrived yesterday and I haven't used them yet.  

We'll see . . .

 

Very Young Turkey Poults

This gang of a dozen or more was hurrying across the road in front of the Gran House, heading into the woods, presumably following their mama--whom I did not see.

Ah, wildlife!

Speaking of which, something got our suet feeders the other night. We suspect a return of Brer Bear and there is talk of getting a game camera. 

It's good to know who your neighbors are, large and small alike.