Wednesday, February 27, 2019

Goodbye, Grace πŸ₯°



Grace ~ July 1st, 2005 ~ February 27th, 2019























With a heavy heart, we said goodbye today to our beautiful golden girl, Grace. Goodbye, Grace 😒😭❤️ Grace, you will Always and Forever be in our hearts. 

This poem pretty much speaks how we feel tonight. 

Love you so much, Grace!❤️


For Beau: 'I'll always love a dog named Beau', by Jimmy Stewart - 1981



27 July, 1981, New York, USA

He never came to me when I would call

Unless I had a tennis ball,

Or he felt like it,

But mostly he didn't come at all.

When he was young

He never learned to heel

Or sit or stay,

He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag

But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.

He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,

And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,

The delivery boy was his favorite prey.

The gas man wouldn't read our meter,

He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire

But the story's long to tell.

Suffice it to say that he survived

And the house survived as well.

On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,

He was always first out the door.

The Old One and I brought up the rear

Because our bones were sore.

He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,

What a beautiful pair they were!

And if it was still light and the tourists were out,

They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks

And with a frown on his face look around.

It was just to make sure that the Old One was there

And would follow him where he was bound.

We are early-to-bedders at our house -- I guess I'm the first to retire.

And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me

And get up from his place by the fire.

He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,

And I'd give him one for a while.

He would push it under the bed with his nose

And I'd fish it out with a smile.

And before very long He'd tire of the ball

And be asleep in his corner In no time at all.

And there were nights when I'd feel him Climb upon our bed

And lie between us,

And I'd pat his head.

And there were nights when I'd feel this stare

And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there

And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.

And sometimes I'd feel him sigh and I think I know the reason why.

He would wake up at night

And he would have this fear

Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,

And he'd be glad to have me near.

And now he's dead.

And there are nights when I think I feel him

Climb upon our bed and lie between us,

And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think I feel that stare

And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,

But he's not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,

I'll always love a dog named Beau.
“I believe cats to be
Spirits come to earth.
A cat could, I believe.
Walk on a cloud without falling through.”

Jules Verne


Little Bat only weighed 81 grams when he first came to us a year and a half ago. He now weighs 8 pounds.




Saturday, February 23, 2019

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.























Wednesday, February 20, 2019

The Dreaming Tree 🌳





The Dreaming Tree 🌳
The morning's temperature is -17.
Still icy in the lull of early morning.
I look out the window, a crystal stillness meets my eye; the form of a tree- A Dreaming Tree***** Nature's art is magnificent!


Thursday, February 14, 2019

Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetie ♥️

Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetie ♥️


♥️ I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
Of birdsong at morning and starshine at night
I will make a palace fit for you and me
Of green days in forests and blue days at sea


Robert Louis Stevenson



Wednesday, February 13, 2019

SNOWCAT


Home Sweet Home is especially nice in Stormy Weather. While hubby and daughter watched Monk, I listened to music and played on the computer forgetting all about lighting the fire even though my husband had brought more than enough wood inside to last us the entire night. I found a picture of a Snowcat, “SnowBall The Cat” someone built out of snow and it reminded me of the Snowcat I made a long time ago made with felt, applique, and embroidery. In the past when the kids were little we built a real SnowCat and although it would be great to have a Snowcat in the front yard now, I really don't want to venture out in the cold and build one all by myself, not much fun.

The painting, “Michetto Hill” that you see at the back of the SnowCat Pillow, I painted a long time ago but it is different than the one I have posted online, it's missing Michetto, so eventually, I'll need to paint him in and fix a couple of mistakes I forgot all about.
















The good thing about stormy weather, it makes me spend more time on my art.

Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Waltz No. 2 - The Second Waltz (by Dmitri Shostakovich) PIANO COVER by D...

On a snowy night listening to Destiny Cross play "The Second Waltz " by Dmitri Shostakovich

Published on Feb 16, 2017



THE MISSING MARK πŸ–Ό



You always hear in the news how someone, somewhere came across a painting at a church sale unsuspecting of its true value. And then it happens, they discover the treasure they brought home is not just a mere treasure for adorning the walls of their home but one which should be in a museum for all to revel in.
Who hasn't had the thought run through their head of discovering an object of crowning value when on a hunt for treasures? I know, I'm one who has and still does but not always, most of the time I'm quite content in discovering something that belonged to someone who's passed on and finding clues in the object that tells me more of their story. The mystery creates the curiosity of which I will never cease to have, I love digging for lost treasures! Dead people's stuff is so interesting to me, it's the kinda of stuff that brings the past into the present and me into the past; a connector to a time long past and forgotten.


Not long ago, a Maud Lewis painting was discovered at a thrift store in southern Ontario and was initially passed off for nothing more than a painting done by a child just because it was painted in the naive style. Don't judge the book by its cover yet how many of us have done exactly that? A mistake easily made when you come across a beautiful book with the most exquisitely detailed gilded artwork you ever laid eyes on. Naturally, we get lost in its beauty and some forget to look inside.
It is the countenance of the book that one must examine thoroughly and not just it's cover, alone; together they are the pieces to the puzzle that make the picture.


So when I discovered this landscape painting many years ago at the Ottawa neighborhood store the serene landscape made me think of The Group of Seven. I think it was the sunset, something Franklin Carmicheal might have painted. I liked its beautiful tranquil setting, I liked it because of its gorgeous sunset, because of the fact that it was an original, because it was painted in oil and because it was painted on a canvas that placed its origin back to England. The artist's identity though was and is a mystery to this day. Maybe the artist was not the boastful kind or perhaps didn't find it important enough to sign it since it was just a study to emulate a famous master or simply, had just forgotten.














The painting with the missing mark, the mark of ownership of who painted the landscape, will never tell its tale of where it's life began. Did the artist give it a name? Was it painted in Plein air or from a photograph taken on a holiday or from the artist's dream? Where was this secret place?
The artist's name missing, adds more of the mystery already attached to the painting. An old, antique painting belonging to an artist whose story I would love to learn more about only the story stops at the mouth of a river with the setting sun shimmering down into its still waters. The forests and hills are a few of the clues where the secret place may be and likely, will never be revealed. This lost and found treasure keeps being forever intriguing. 



The painting now adorns our home, desperately needing a frame, a very old one to complement its scenery would be fitting. I can pretend it was painted by someone famous, wouldn't it be lovely if it really belonged to Franklin Carmicheal?


In the end, I love the painting, famous or not, it does what a great painting should do, it captivates and draws you into its magical landscape and gives you a daydream.

Wednesday, February 6, 2019

ROSEBUD 🌹








To stay retired or go back to work? A question we pondered on in the last week, did we want to continue the long distance trek for a little while longer to reach the dream?
All the stuff everyone tries to achieve in their life, pay the house mortgage, save for retirement, have enough funds for the kids to go to college and have a reliable vehicle, we took care of and now should be the time we get to enjoy what's left of our life; but it's not always the case. There's is always the dream.


I have forever wanted to move, actually since 1986 and the place I always envisioned in my dream was a small cottage by the sea or in the wood with a wood burning fireplace but the passage of time has changed the thought, we need to look at what makes the most sense and not so much what the heart desires although the magic cottage has always been there in my mind and has never left so to make a decision on where to buy our next house is not that simple.


Yesterday, I sat in my living room by the fire and all sorts of thoughts went through my head and then I noticed the tiny cabin sitting on the wreath surrounded by forest on the fireplace mantel; it changed. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks or my mind was taking a trip to the past. I was looking into a glass globe of a quaint cottage covered in snow. I knew immediately where I had seen it before.


I have always loved old movies, especially for their beautiful stories, the cinematography, and music; they are treasures of the past that I have never forgotten.
Do you remember the snow globe from the Old American Mystery Drama Film “Citizen Kane” written by Orson Welles? I do, I remember it well. Yes, Rosebud was written on his childhood sleigh but Rosebud was really the glass globe with the small cabin symbolizing what truly mattered to Charlie, true love.


Love is more powerful than all the worldly possessions we could ever own. Orson Welles, himself had said in an interview that when he wrote “Citizen Kane” he intentionally made an attack on property. The acquisition of property and the corruption in association to it. And it made me seriously take into account just how much did I want that PROPERTY! Enough to sacrifice another few years of quality life? We don't know the future and we want so much from the one life we have, so when is it time to call it quits?


“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” ~ Orson Welles

Wednesday, January 23, 2019

Sunday, January 20, 2019

BETWEEN THE PAGES OF A BOOK

BETWEEN THE PAGES OF A BOOK










Books, inside them we find stories and sometimes more than one.By now, if you read some of my posts you know I love to collect old things and books are one. I love to read a good novel, in particular, a ghostly tale that has me bewitched by its captivating story.
But I also love the oldies for their wonderful original tales, their gorgeous book covers and old illustrations.These books are an inspiration to me as an artist and it's no secret they are to many other artists out there. The past keeps many treasures and I love haunting for them.

I remember a quote of E.B. WHITE'S “Always be on the Lookout for the Presence of Wonder.”

This morning I was pleasantly surprised to find yet another hidden treasure inside the pages of the antique Medical Book. Last summer, I bought 2 antique Medical Volumes, used them in photoshoots and decorating my mantle but never opened their pages until this morning. Instead of picking up a volume of “Journeys Through Book land” I picked up one of the 2 Medical volumes, Volume #2~ Health Knowledge , The Most Essential Thing In Life. Flipping through it's pages I found an old polaroid of a man next to his vintage car on page # 1117, on the opposite page was the subtitle “Retinitis” not the same health issue my husband has with his retina, he's had retina detachment in the past but all the same it was curiously interesting finding the picture there because I also found further in the book 2 pink bills with their date and place, 1956; my husband's birth year.

Always look for wonder, for really it's never that far away.

NOTE BENE


The fella next to the car, I believe could be the owner of the Medical Books and if anyone recognizes the picture they can direct message me if they would like to have it back. You just need to tell me your name ( the name written on the 2 bills) which I think will confirm ownership of the polaroid. : ) I'm sure the picture is a keepsake and memory you would like back.

Sunday, January 13, 2019

πŸ’€ SLEEP WALK πŸ’€

Does Music inspire you? It does for me. I have always loved the instrumental piece by Santo & Johnny, "SLEEP WALK",one of my favourites.
I love many things like cats and dogs , music, art and stories and much more.
I once again was inspired by a song or should I say by an instrumental piece to create art and inspired by a place I once used to call home a very long time ago.
There really does exist a place called Wychwood across the Ottawa river on the Quebec side at Aylmer, Quebec. And so, I painted "SLEEP WALK".

SLEEP WALK

It snowed all day. It was a very deep and frosty snow. All of Wychwood was under a twinkling blanket of snow; a purrrfect night to tuck in early to bed for a good night's sleep but Genova , the witch couldn't sleep.
She was in an old cottage in the woods , with candlelight reflected in the large parlour room window; by her side, her 3 ghosts ; Ghost, Spooks and Boo. The view of the front lawn was an enchanting site, all sparkling and glittery, just like a Christmas postcard only it was just October.
Oh, my, I'm so tired but I can't sleep! said Genova. Lying on the sofa she reached for the knob on the radio and turned the dial to on, suddenly over the waves there was the song that always sent Genova to a far, far away place.“Sleep Walk”. Genova closed her eyes and drifted to the land of nod. Ghost, a big fluffy white cat, the biggest of the three cats became drowsy to the sound of the still guitar and soon he too was sound asleep. As for the other two cats, Spooks was transfixed to the window, something had caught his attention. It was Boo he was watching,once again sleep walking .......outdoors!
Spooks wondered just how long it would be before Boo would wake from the chilly air and realize he was not inside the house.











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