“The rhythm of the weekend, with its birth, its planned gaieties, and its announced end, followed the rhythm of life and was a substitute for it.” (-F Scott Fitzgerald)
We had some good friends visiting from this past weekend through today. They lived for a while in NC, but now they come from
Flowers came out, the food is gone, and the gifts from Christmas were fun to open. It’s great to celebrate Christmas after the big holiday’s already gone. We do this every year…
Games were played. ..
And it’s always sad to see them go….
“We dare not trust our wit for making our house pleasant to our friend, so we buy ice cream.” (-Ralph Waldo Emerson)
(Trust me—it works!)
I was so sad to learn, on Tuesday, of the death of the writer John Updike, from lung cancer.
Long ago, I read Updike’s "At War with My Skin," his description of his lifelong battle with the skin condition psoriasis, and I have never forgotten it. While it was a huge burden to him, to a large degree, he came to realize that it had played a major role in shaping him as a person, and it ultimately helped him to become the writer he was.
I think it’s often the things we feel self-conscious about, or the adversities we face in our lives that push us to be creative, or outgoing, or brave. Updike's psoriasis, and the stutter he suffered from as a young man, greatly impacted him as an individual.
"Because of my skin," he maintained, "I counted myself out of any of those jobs - salesman, teacher, financier, movie star - that demand being presentable. What did that leave? Becoming a craftsman of some kind, closeted and unseen - perhaps a cartoonist or a writer, a worker in ink who can hide himself and send out a surrogate presence, a signature that multiplies even while it conceals."
“My war with my skin had to do with self-love, with finding myself acceptable, whether others did or not.”
I think we can all relate to that.
Best known for his novels, I always preferred his poetry. I would watch for his poems in the New Yorker, where they frequently appeared, and I'm saddened by his death.
Watercolors can be so frustrating. They have a mind of their own. Or at least it often seems that way. When I’m feeling “stuck,” I like to practice doing simple gesture sketches.
I look for images in newspapers and fashion catalogs, and I just start: I don’t think about it, I just push myself to move that brush…wherever it takes me, so be it.
I don’t use a pencil, and I just sort of sketch with the brush and paints. Since it’s just an exercise, there’s something very freeing about doing these.
“They say that nobody is perfect. Then they tell you practice makes perfect. I wish they’d make up their minds.” (-Winston Churchill)
“Squirrels for nuts contend, and wrong or right,
For the world’s empire kings ambitious fight
What odds?—to us ‘tis all the self-same thing,
A nut, a world, a squirrel, and a king.”
(-Charles Churchill)
Have a wonderful weekend, all!
Last night was one of those nights when I juuuuust didn’t feel like cooking a big elaborate meal, but we were both hungry…
It occurred to me that we hadn’t had "Breakfast for Supper" for some time. We were about due for our favorite meyer- lemon blueberry pancakes with fruit on the side...
Of course, what are pancakes without warmed maple syrup drizzled on top,...and blueberries,...and a little freshly-whipped cream to make it look nice?
Aaaaaaahhhhh...
'Hit the spot!
“You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson’s pasture today:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
In the cavernous pail of the first one to come!
And all ripe together, not some of them green
And some of them ripe! You ought to have seen!”
(from “Blueberries” by Robert Frost)
I was supposed to head to Duke on Tuesday, but because we were hit with four inches of snow all day, I wound up being thrilled that I was able to stay at home and watch the Inauguration as it took place. I was touched, I cried a few times, and I felt a surge of happiness at what it all represented.
There were lots of reasons that the day was special and historic, and the snow that we so seldom see here in
All in all, a moving, uplifting day for watching TV, painting, and staying warm.
Praise Song
“…In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp—praise song for walking in that light.”
(-Elizabeth Alexander)
Joe came home from Barnes and Noble the other day with the winter issue of Watercolor magazine. It featured an article on watercolor interiors, which is something I had mentioned to Joe that I wanted to spend some time practicing.
As it happens, the magazine highlights the current exhibit in
My sweet friend Carol Gillott of Parisbreakfast fame tells me she went to see it the other day. I’m jealous!
I have always enjoyed interior paintings. I also enjoy both making up interiors, and I enjoy painting those that I see in front of me.
Even as a little kid, I enjoyed riding in the car at night and seeing inside peoples’ windows—not in a prurient way, but I liked seeing the pretty rooms. I still do.
Quelle dommage for heavy, closed drapes, eh?
Recently, the bluebirds have been sojourning on our deck and in our yard.
Of course, they’re here year-round, but lately, quite a number of them have been furtively easing onto their favorite perches and I’ve noticed the females, in particular, playing sentry at the bluebird house, keeping watch as if to ensure that no one else has eyes on their digs.
We don’t mind a bit. Their gentle nature and graceful plumage is a delight, no matter what time of year it is. I see it as a good sign that they’re happy, and that they plan on settling in for another beautiful year.
Early Bird
Oh, if you’re a bird, be an early bird
And catch the worm for your breakfast plate.
If you’re a bird, be an early early bird—
But if you’re a worm, sleep late.
(-Shel Silverstein)
