For the last three days, I've been able to sit down at my painting table for short periods of time late in the day to do more work on a small watercolor block painting I started in May of 2007 but didn't finish. The last painting in that series I started in early March of 2007 is here.
Although I did a series of "trackpad drawings" in December 2007 and January 2008, this is the first time I have used my gouache and watercolor paints since May of 2007. Above is a detail of the still-unfinished painting tentatively titled "Conversation Between a Blue and Green Place and the Sunrise." It didn't have a working title until yesterday. Holding a brush in my hand and mixing paint with water and applying the paint to the paper on a watercolor block feels good.
My sister who lives on the Gulf Coast in Mississippi asked me if I could identify this large bird. I can't.
On Wednesday, after talking with my next-door neighbor who had also seen hummingbirds on her porch, I put my hummingbird feeder up. Yesterday I saw a single hummingbird on two occasions. This morning the surface of the pond is frozen again. but the bulbs on my porch are a little more above ground each day.
Thanks to all who've left comments or emailed me recently. I'm well but am entering the last few months before it will be a year since R died. Haven't had my usual energy.
Although I've heard the story about this crow in Japan before, I was reminded of it again today. Even if the story isn't true, it rings true to me and makes my heart feel light and find hope. I love to see crows skip along.
A daily practice of three questions to ask at bedtime and record in a journal:
What surprised me today? What touched me or moved me today? What inspired me today?
These questions are from The Will To Live and Other Mysteries, an audio book by Rachel Naomi Remen. I bought that audio book in October of 2001 after visiting with R, who had been given a terminal cancer diagnosis. He lived until April 20, 2008.
The sunrise and clouds to the east are spectacular this morning. I'm going to get some breakfast and then head for my painting table, promising myself a walk this afternoon.
How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be? -- Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890)
Welcome to "37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE)".
The photograph currently at the top of my blog was taken from my porch before sunrise on October 29, 2023.
"OLD GIRL OF THE NORTH COUNTRY" (the earliest name for my blog -- http://oldgirlfromthenorthcountry.blogspot.com
) came to life in early December of 2006 so that I could post a 42-year retrospective of my paintings and drawings and through that action, create a new relationship with the day the man I loved returned from Vietnam in December 1970. For a while (sometime after spring of 2008, which is when he died) my blog was "TALKING 37TH DREAM WITH RAINBOW (RUMORS OF PEACE)". For a number of years, it's been "TALKING 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE)." As of April 12, 2017 my blog was titled "37TH DREAM / TALKING 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE/LOOKING UP)". Somewhere along the way it became 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE).
To begin viewing the retrospective with narrative, scroll down to December 8, 2006, on this page:
I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. -- Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968)
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware. -- Martin Buber (1878-1965)
It is only a little planet, but how beautiful it is.
-- Robinson Jeffers
The true end of a war is the rebirth of life; the right to die peacefully in your own bed. The true end of war is the end of fear; the true end of war is the return of laughter.
-- Alfred Molano
Enjoy every sandwich -- Warren Zevon (1947-2003)
Not in God's wilds will you ever hear the sad moan, "All is vanity." No, we are paid a thousand times for all our toil, and after a single day spent outdoors in their atmosphere of strength and beauty, one could still say, should death come — even without any hope of another life — "Thank you for this most glorious gift!" and pass on.
-- John Muir (1838-1914)
Philip Henslowe: Mr. Fennyman, allow me to explain about the theatre business. The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster. Hugh Fennyman: So what do we do? Philip Henslowe: Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well. Hugh Fennyman: How? Philip Henslowe: I don't know. It's a mystery.