AH, NOTHING IS TOO LATE! — WIP OF SEASCAPE

Wip of Seascape -

' JULY 5TH, 1868: Today I have completed sixty-four Springtimes...and now here I am, a very old woman, embarked on my-sixty-fifth year. By one of those strange oddities in my destiny, I am now in much better health, much stronger, much more active, than I ever was in my youth... I am troubled by no hankering after the days my youth: I am no longer ambitious for fame: I desire no money except in so far as I should like to be able to leave something to my children and grandchildren...This astonishing old age... has brought me neither infirmity nor lowered vitality.

Can I still make myself useful? That one may legitimately ask, and I think that I can answer 'yes'. I feel that I may be useful in a more personal, more direct way than ever before. I have, though how I do not know, acquired much wisdom. I am better equipped to bring up children... It is quite wrong to think of old age as a downward slope. One climbs higher and higher with the advancing years, and that, too, with surprising strides. How good life is when all that one loves is as warm with life! '

Letter from George Sand to a friend 

George Sand

I have completed sixty- six Springtimes... and now here I am, embarked on my sixty-seventh year. Although far from great health like George Sand ... I desire no fame only maybe more hair : ) and enough money to move into the country or a larger older home and have that to leave behind to my children. Age has given me much wisdom and lessons learned. It's never too late - I Love painting ♥️, creating, learning. 

MUSIC - MARIAGE D'AMOUR

Mariage D'amour by Paul de Senneville

It is too late! Ah, nothing is too late—

Cato learned Greek at eighty; Sophocles
Wrote his grand “Oedipus,” and Simonides
Bore off the prize of verse from his compeers
When each had numbered more than fourscore years;
And Theophrastus, at fourscore and ten,
Had begun his “Characters of Men.”
Chaucer, at Woodstock, with his nightingales,
At sixty wrote the “Canterbury Tales.”
Goethe, at Weimar, toiling to the last,
Completed “Faust” when eighty years were past.
What then? Shall we sit idly down and say,
“The night has come; it is no longer day”?
For age is opportunity no less
Than youth itself, though in another dress.
And as the evening twilight fades away,
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
It is never too late to start doing what is right.
Never.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Secret of The Sea

 

Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me
As I gaze upon the sea!
All the old romantic legends,
All my dreams, come back to me

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

The Secret of the Sea - 2024 

The Secret of the Sea 

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me

As I gaze upon the sea!

All the old romantic legends,

All my dreams, come back 

to me. 

 

Till my soul is full of longing

For the secret of the sea,

And the heart of the great ocean

Sends a thrilling pulse through me.

LISTEN 

 Secrets of The Sea ~ by Greg Maroney

'Ah! What pleasant visions haunt me As I gaze upon the sea!' - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I'm haunted and bewitched by the beautiful celestial image I witnessed with my family on April 8th, 2024, of the solar eclipse. I find myself painting white suns these days. Even after bringing an unwanted hitchhiker home from the event, the tick : ) He, as well, was curious and wanted to see. I suppose he had an excellent place to watch from : )

The cliff and water need more work. Maybe add something else to the painting as well.

WIP ACRYLIC PAINTING 10 X 8 CANVAS

HEART'S DESIRE ~ A WOOD OF MY OWN

I always like to change things in my paintings as I paint and return to them often. Looking at the painting in a different light of day helps me see things I might have missed the day before. I wasn't sure about leaving the trunks without their leaves needles. When I finally decided to add the needles to the trees, I was happy I did. 

A pine stand in the woods is always fragrant and delightful. 

HEART'S DESIRE ~ A WOOD OF MY OWN

~Anna 2024

March 




by William Cullen Bryant




The stormy March is come at last,

With wind, and cloud, and changing skies;

I hear the rushing of the blast,

That through the snowy valley flies.




Ah, passing few are they who speak,

Wild stormy month! in praise of thee;

Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,

Thou art a welcome month to me.

FLORENCE BLUME

FLORENCE BLUME - A GHOST STORY

Before he died, Florence Blume was a solitary man who enjoyed living alone with his cats in his beautiful home in the woods. At the entrance to his house, he hung an old Irish proverb, 'Beware of people who dislike cats. It seemed to keep unwanted visitors and fake friends away. 

The isle of green was an easy place to fall in love with flowers. Florence knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. 

He was a professor at the nearby college and taught Botany. 

All his free time was spent tending the gardens surrounding his home, always in the company of his two cats, Maggie and Bat. 

Florence had a favorite flower, The Lily of the Valley, and his favorite season was Spring. One night, after dinner, while listening to his classical music and reading poetry, he came across a poem by Tchaikovsky, 'Lilies of the Valley '- He had discovered a kindred spirit who loved the same season and flower as he. The two souls had the same thought, after death, darkness, or light? Florence knew the joys of the earth; before and after his death.  




LILIES OF THE VALLEY -TCHAIKOVSKY


"I wait for spring. And now the enchantress appears,

The wood has cast off its shroud

And prepares for us shade,

And the rivers start to flow, and the grove is filled with sound,

And at last, the long-looked-for day is here!

Quick to the woods!—I race along the familiar path.

Can my dreams have come true, my longings be fulfilled?—

There he is! Bending to the earth, with trembling hand

I pluck the wondrous gift of the enchantress Spring.

O lily of the valley, why do you so please the eye?

Other flowers there are more sumptuous and grand,

With brighter colours and livelier patterns,

Yet they have not your mysterious fascination.

Where lies the secret of your charms? What do you prophesy to the soul?

With what do you attract me, with what gladden my heart?

Is it that you revive the ghost of former pleasures,

Or is it future bliss that you promise us?" excerpt from Lilies of The Valley was written by Tchaikovsky in December 1878 while he was in Florence.

A COUNTRY ESCAPE ♥️

A COUNTRY ESCAPE

Happy am I when I slip into bed-
I dream of a pastoral place,
A country escape,
And find heaven on earth

There’s a cottage @ Rideau Ferry, it’s name - “Heaven on Earth” and I think it is😇

This lovely mixed media painting is a treasure I found on one of my shopping trips, unfortunately, the artist didn’t sign their name to the artwork.

MY HOUSE, I SAY...COTTAGE BY THE SEA ~ FORGET-ME-NOT COTTAGE ( WIP/2 )

Yes, this could be my house and mine, said my husband when he looked at my painting this morning. It's still a WIP. I need to finish painting the grass along the path, maybe a couple of doves on the roof and a cat, just like Robert Louis Stevenson wrote about in the poem "My House, I Say."

The Forget- Me- Nots and Tansy are flowers we collected on our trip down east. THE INN AT WHALE COVE COTTAGES, GRAND MANAN ISLAND, NEW BRUNSWICK is a place that will always be dear to me and M. We had such a great time there and, Laura, the Inn Keeper at Whale Cove Cottages, made it extra special for us. This painting, inspired by that special place we stayed at one cold October month in 2017. One day, we shall go back!

MY HOUSE, I SAY 
~ ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 1850-1894


"My house, I say. But hark to the sunny doves  

That make my roof the arena of their loves,  

That gyre about the gable all day long  

And fill the chimneys with their murmurous song:  

Our house, they say; and mine, the cat declares  

And spreads his golden fleece upon the chairs;  

And mine the dog, and rises stiff with wrath  

If any alien foot profane the path.  

So, too, the buck that trimmed my terraces,  

Our whilom gardener, called the garden his;

Who now, deposed, surveys my plain abode  

And his late kingdom, only from the road."

I seem to be quite captivated by this fellow ~ The Scarecrow

The Scarecrow

- Walter de la Mare

No filter, just my phone, the garden, the scarecrow and, the sunflowers in the snow.

All winter through I bow my head 

beneath the driving rain;
the North Wind powders me with snow
and blows me black again;
at midnight 'neath a maze of stars
I flame with glittering rime,
and stand above the stubble, stiff
as mail at morning-prime.
But when that child called Spring, and all
his host of children come,
scattering their buds and dew upon
these acres of my home,
some rapture in my rags awakes;
I lift void eyes and scan
the sky for crows, those ravening foes,
of my strange master, Man.
I watch him striding lank behind
his clashing team, and know
soon will the wheat swish body high
where once lay a sterile snow;
soon I shall gaze across a sea
of sun-begotten grain,
which my unflinching watch hath sealed
for harvest once again.

The Little Sunflower's Wish 🌱🌻🧡🌻🌱🧡🌻🧡🌱

The Little Sunflower's Wish  🌱🌻🧡🌻🌱🧡🌻🧡🌱

Magic in a Tangled Garden

I glanced up to look at the sunny heads looking down from the towering stalks of the giant sunflowers. A little sunflower was looking up too. This tangled garden of ours keeps creating magic.

Nature tells us many things, and this little guy, I believe, is telling us where there is love life grows.

Ah! Sun-Flower
By William Blake

Ah, Sun-flower! weary of time,

Who countest the steps of the Sun:

Seeking after that sweet golden clime

Where the traveler's journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,

And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:

Arise from their graves and aspire,

Where my Sunflower wishes to go.

THE DREAM AND THE VISITOR

I couldn't sleep but I remembered my dream... Salem returned.

‘The Visitor’, by Ian Serraillier

A crumbling churchyard, the sea, and the moon; The waves had gouged out grave and bone;

A man was walking, late and alone...

He saw a skeleton on the ground; A ring on a bony finger he found.

He ran home to his wife and gave her the ring. “Oh, where did you get it?” He said not a thing.

“It’s the loveliest ring in the world,” she said,

As it glowed on her finger. They slipped off to bed.

At midnight they woke. In the dark outside, “Give me my ring!” a chill voice cried.

“What was that, William? What did it say?” “Don’t’ worry, my dear. It’ll soon go away.”

“I’m coming!” A skeleton opened the door. “Give me my ring!” It was crossing the floor.

“What was that, William? What did it say?” “Don’t’ worry, my dear. It’ll soon go away.”

“I’m reaching you now! I’m climbing the bed.” The wife pulled the sheet right over her head.

It was torn from her grasp and tossed in the air: “I’ll drag you out of bed by the hair!”

“What was that, William? What did it say?”

“Throw the ring through the window! THROW IT AWAY!”

She threw it. The skeleton leapt from the sill, Scooped up the ring and clattered downhill, Fainter... and fainter... Then all was still.



Salem was one of our rescues, a very special cat who had a sixth sense I'm sure.




THE VISITOR BY IAN SERRAILLIER

AIR CASTLES AND A BLACK CAT ~ MARCH 1ST/2020 🍀😺

Happy March 1st / 2020

When I am tired of toil and strife
And wearied of pursuing care,
I turn aside from real life
And build a castle in the air. 

 ~ 
Heritage Minutes: Lucy Maud Montgomery

Taking a break from the news today.

 Happy March 1st 🍀

Happiness is A Bat...Pipistrello🦇🐈

Happiness is A Bat...Pipistrello


I read a poem by D.H. Lawrence 'BAT', who unfortunately didn't like bats. I shared the same sentiments until my daughter got me to appreciate them on our bonfire nights. Although, I must admit I still do get a bit anxious when they fly a touch too low.

"Bats, and an uneasy creeping in one's scalp
As the bats swoop overhead!
Flying madly."


Lawrence also states in his poem that in China the Bat is a symbol of Happiness.Bat after all is a cat we must not forget but sometimes we do! I suppose half cat and half bat counts for all the happiness he's brought us 🦇🐈

Along came a bug on October 27th who almost didn't make it. The little bug though looked very much like a tiny bat and so he got the name Bat. Of course, we all have since gone batty ^..^


Couldn't wake up Bat but this other little witch-bird should be sleeping by now.

Love Bats, Cats, and Halloween 🦇🎃🧹🐈


The Bat by: Arthur Guiterman (1871-1943)


Airy-mouse, hairy mouse,
Keen-eared contrary mouse,
Come from your cavern--a star's in the sky!
Fluttering, flittering,
Eerily chittering,
Swoop on your quarry, the dusk-haunting fly.

Airy-mouse, wary mouse,
Witch-bird or fairy-mouse,
Soft through the shadow the dawn-glimmer steals;
Night's your carousing-time,
Day brings your drowsing-time;
Hence to your hollow and hang by your heels!

LILIES OF THE VALLEY

When at the end of spring I pick for the last time
My favourite flowers— a yearning fills my breast,
And to the future I urgently appeal:
Let me but once again look upon the lilies of the valley.
Now they have faded. Like an arrow the summer has flown by,
The days have grown shorter. The feathered choir is still,
The sun more charily grants us its warmth and light,
And already the wood has laid its leafy carpet.
Then when harsh winter comes
And the forests don their snowy cover,
Despondently I roam and wait with new yearning
For the skies to shine with the sun of spring.
I find no pleasure in books, or conversation,
Or swift-rushing sledges, or the ball's noisy glitter,
Or Patti, or the theatre, or delicate cuisine,
Or the quiet crackling of smouldering logs on the fire
I wait for spring. And now the enchantress appears,
The wood has cast off its shroud
And prepares for us shade,
And the rivers start to flow, and the grove is filled with sound,
And at last the long-looked-for day is here!
Quick to the woods!—I race along the familiar path.
Can my dreams have come true, my longings be fulfilled?—
There he is! Bending to the earth, with trembling hand
I pluck the wondrous gift of the enchantress Spring.
O lily of the valley, why do you so please the eye?
Other flowers there are more sumptuous and grand,
With brighter colours and livelier patterns,
Yet they have not your mysterious fascination.
Where lies the secret of your charms? What do you prophesy to the soul?
With what do you attract me, with what gladden my heart?
Is it that you revive the ghost of former pleasures,
Or is it future bliss that you promise us?
I know not. But your balmy fragrance,
Like flowing wine, warms and intoxicates me,
Like music, it takes my breath away,
And like a flame of love, it suffuses my burning cheeks.
And I am happy while you bloom, modest lily of the valley,
The tedium of winter days has passed without a trace,
And oppressive thoughts are gone, and in my heart in languid comfort
Welcomes, with you, forgetfulness of trouble and woe.
Yet now you fade. Again in monotonous succession
The days will begin to flow slowly, and stronger than before
Will I be tormented by importunate yearning,
By the agonizing dream of the happiness of days in May.

And then someday spring again will call
And raise the living world out of its fetters.
But the hour will strike. I shall be no more among the living,
I shall meet, like everyone, my fated turn.
And then what?—Where, at the winged hour of death,
Will my soul, heeding its command, soundlessly soar?
No answer! Be silent, my restless mind,
You cannot guess what eternity holds for us.
But like all of nature, drawn by our thirst to live,
We call to you and wait, beautiful Spring!
The joys of earth are so near to us, so familiar—
The yawning maw of the grave so dark! ~ PYOTR LLYICH TCHAIKOVSKY

Spring is late this year but on a good note, it gave me a chance to pick my favorite flower...LILIES OF THE VALLEY and I was ☘️ to find this painting "Lady of Shallott" by Waterhouse.

Grace and Karson

                    Grace

July 1st, 2005 ~ Feb 27th, 2019

              

Grace and Karson photographed by M

“And it is exceedingly short, his galloping life. Dogs die so soon. I have my stories of that grief, no doubt many of you do also. It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old—or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give. •”


Mary Oliver, Dog Songs

 

Above photos by M

The Spider and The Cat

A Little Caturday Fun playing with the famous poem "The Spider and The Fly" by Mary Howitt 1829


The Spider and The Cat

“Good morning, my darling love”. said the Spider to the Cat;
Don't be frightened by my skinny, spidery legs and all of that.
These hairy limbs surely will give you a tiny tickle;
When I scurry across your back, you'll be in such a pickle.
Go away, go away! said the pussycat; your not my kinda of chap:
I'm unto all your flattery and your spooky, kooky, trap.

GARY BUNT THE LONG WAY ROUND and BY THE GRACE OF GOD

****

Either one loves art or doesn't. It's a matter of choice.


What one approves, another scorns,
And thus his nature each discloses;
You find the rosebush full of thorns,
I find the thorn bush full of roses.
                                                     ~ Arthur Guiterman



"Art attracts us only by what it reveals of our most secret self. ~ Jean-Luc Godard

While some mortals seek answers to earth's creation, others revere in it; in it's colours and hues, study it's contours and moods and observe the awesomeness of it's beautiful being. Some of the others are the painters who after examination of their world in every detail channel their singular interpretation through their painted landscapes. They emphasis the subtleties of nature that most of us often miss to notice. They remind us just how wonderful life is and never loose sight of its magnificent wonder.

I was so thrilled when I came across the artist Gary Bunt that I left him a message on his biography video on Youtube Gary Bunt Painter & Poet expressing my admiration for his work never really expecting any sort of reply from him only later to be pleasantly surprised in receiving an email from the artist himself. He graciously offered me two of his books and asked if I was interested in reading them. I couldn't believe my luck and of course I said yes! So, patiently I waited.

Finally, last Tuesday I received one of his books "Gary Bunt ~ The Long Way Round" a compilation of his paintings and I was beyond words and excitement. Not wanting to sound unappreciative and hoggish I wondered if that was the one and only book I’d be receiving since at the back of my mind I remembered he had mentioned 2 books. I asked my daughter what her thoughts were and she replied, "From his letter mom, it really sounds like there are two books coming your way."

By Wednesday morning, on our way in to town my husband stopped at the post office and soon after walked outside with another brown package that looked quiet similar to the one of the day before. He smiled and said "I think your artist kept his word, it has the same shipping address as the first one.

This time I received "By The Grace Of God Paintings and Poems By Gary Bunt. Again, I was a very happy gal with more books to read!

Gary Bunt's whimsical paintings of old folks and their pets, serene pastoral landscapes untouched by time, quaint old villages by the sea are some of the landscapes we wish for and dream of. I connected with Mr. Bunt's artwork because it simply revealed a lot of my old secret loves. I have found a friend who truly lives a life I love.

I have a favourite book I keep close on hand and from time to time read it to review all of it’s beautiful messages it tells. The book is by E.B. White called "Charlotte's Web".

Gary Bunt sent me along two very lovely books, each beautiful and magical like "Charlotte's Web" for they too hold special stories of love, faith, friendship and affection, life and miracles depicted and interpreted through his paintings and poetry.

I shall keep these books close by and when I feel like visiting a gallery featuring the works by Gary Bunt I only need to open the covers of these books and not worry about the vanished dream of the morning for it is already inside the pages of these books. Thank you Mr. Bunt for the gifts.

I shall treasure these books forever and pass them on to my kids.

Please do check Gary Bunt Painter & Poet  on Youtube.



NOTE BENE:

In the morning (easier in focusing) I will add a few pictures of Gary Bunt's art work and poetry for you but I think these books should be in one's own library to be fully appreciated for their eternal beauty and message.

Annabelle

COME A LITTLE CLOSER , THEN YOU'LL SEE

Photo Courtesy of  

Reni Gamble ~ Rumiwater

Dreams are a mystery, they are the night fevers that fabricate the delirium of which intoxicates the mind.

Sometimes they come creeping into the room at night with prophetic visions of days of future passed,

immediately the voices are back asking the symbolism of the Dream.

Carl Gustav Jung believed Dreams were a way to communicate and acquaint oneself with their unconscious; a window into one's inner soul.

William Shakespeare said the eyes were the window to one's soul,

And Helen Keller said the most beautiful things in life could not be seen or touched , but felt with the heart.

The dreams, the visions, the eyes, all symbols as well, all telling their very own tale of their heart.

"Cold - hearted orb that rules the night

Removes the colours from our sight

Red is gray and yellow, white

But we decide which is right

And which is an illusion"

~Moody Blues

aND SO THE dREAM (a past dream)

of the

Malocchio ~ The Evil Eye

I'm in the elysium of an evil eye after trying my hand at water colour painting of a Lover's Eye.

Although I'm far from happy with it's horrid gaze it has given me some thoughts to ponder on while creating it. I want to make a series of eye paintings , some beautiful and haunting,some more on the creepier sinister side for incorporating into my Haunted Lover's Eye Spiderweb Frames. 

If you look at the previous post "A Little Fairy Spider by the Name of Charlotte", you can see the frames I'll be using for the next Haunted Lover's Eye in the collection.

"Come a little closer, then you'll see

Come on, come on, come on

Things aren't always what they seem to be"

***********“Come a Little Closer” **********

I was just having a bit of fun playing a little game of “looking for a clue to the identity of the drawn eye in the photograph”. I placed the eye on top of an Ouija Board to convey it's invisible form with the yes and no words barely noticeable, kind of saying “ Yes I'm “The Spirit Eye”, no I'm the Evil Eye or Witch's Eye, the Witch Hazel bottle also being one of the clues. Anyway, didn't really spend a lot of time on the game just thought of it as I posted it. Still a big kid at heart : )

p.s. I don't use the board for it's intended purpose ( I'm a scary cat) I just use it for a Halloween prop.

"Do you understand the things that you've been dreaming?"

 While painting I listened to this song from my daughter's collection, M truly has opened my mind to the current wave of music played on Vampire Diaries , Pretty Little Liars , Castle and other similar programs. I love all sorts of genres , especially the classics and music of the past but some of today's scores are finding their place in my collections as well.

Enjoy : )

Interesting symbolism throughout this song. "Come a Little Closer"by The Cage Elephant.The most blaring ones are The Third Eye, Planets, Possible Drug References, etc. ~ Covertpolitics

Please take the time to pay a visit to the artists on Paint Party Friday. Thanks Eva and Kristin for hosting.

"Time flies by, they all sang along

Time flies by, they all sang along

Time flies by, they all sang along

Time flies ~ bye, bye "

~ Cage the Elephant 

Until Later,

Annabelle

* The Spider's Moving Day *

The Spider and the Shed

Out at yard sales on a rainy day

In the entrance to a shed

We watched as a spider dandled down

Looking to be fed

We stood outside in the pouring rain

Just me and Emma Peel

She looked my way and said to me

I’m not a spider meal

It was raining hard, we were getting wet

There were treasures inside for sure

I would check for bargains once inside

But only after her

Then suddenly without a word

We stood and did not care

As the woman that had just walked out

Had the spider in her hair

The way was clear, it was alright now

We could find our deals inside

We could have told the lady who cleared the way

But to hell with foolish pride

She knew that she was on her own

She knew the price to pay

It’s everybody for themselves

For this was garage sale day

~ Stan Belanger

On a garage sale jaunt last year in Merrickville,

my husband and daughter had witnessed the spider’s moving day and this is what inspired my hubby to write the poem.

I guess this one garage sale we will never forget…haha!

Merrickville ; a purrfect place for inspiration.

 * My Usual Halloween Treats  ~^..^~