DO NOT STAND BY MY GRAVE , AND WEEP

Florence Blume - A Ghost Story {Merrickville} Annabelle&M © 2023

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep—

I am a thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry—

I am not there,

I did not die.

-Clare Harner 1934 

When words and music touch my soul...listen

Mariage d'amour - Paul de Senneville

@batandmaggie @hauntedwalk @rideau_walkingtours @painteral613 @writerswarmth 

#painting #blackandwhite #catart #spooky #halloween #storypainting #bookstagram #instagood #beauty#beautiful#merrickville #haunted #afterlife #supernatural #cemetery #graveyard #Annabelle&m #love #moon#moonlight#florenceblume #trees #ghostadventures #spookyseason #blackcat #picoftheday #instadaily #art #poem#donotstandatmygraveandweep 

BAT TUB

Bat, bathing in the moonlight, at midnight, in the dark, in the woods, alone. 

My daughter hijacked my painting; no stars, no flowers, no more cats, and no ghosts. Maybe, Halloween? She named it Bat Tub.




“The moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” 

― Munia Khan




"Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see."

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ☘️

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ☘️

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ☘️

Sometimes, you have to believe in ghosts, fairies, and the luck of the Irish.

This little black pussy cat was rescued early this morning on Saint Patty's Day. Florence picked up the tiny creature who wasn't quite ready for upstairs with some help from the fairies. They lent Florence their Fairy's ladder made of Lily of the Valley. The fragrance was heavenly. Now, Florence had a new kitten to name.


Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ☘️


This is a very old Irish poem written by a monk in the 8th or 9th century.

"Pangur was a common name for cats at that place and time and the word “Ban” means white in Gaelic." 




Pangur Ban - THE IRISH CAT POEM (vulpeslibris.wordpress.com)

I and Pangur Ban, my cat,

'Tis a like task we are at;

Hunting mice is his delight,

Hunting words I sit all night.




Better far than praise of men

'Tis to sit with book and pen;

Pangur bears me no ill will;

He, too, plies his simple skill.




'Tis a merry thing to see

At our task how glad are we,

When at home we sit and find

Entertainment to our mind.




Oftentimes a mouse will stray

Into the hero Pangur's way;

Oftentimes my keen thought set

Takes a meaning in its net.




'Gainst the wall he sets his eye

Full and fierce and sharp and sly;

'Gainst the wall of knowledge I

All my little wisdom try.




When a mouse darts from its den.

O how glad is Pangur then!

O what gladness do I prove

When I solve the doubts I love!




So in peace our tasks we ply,

Pangur Ban, my cat and I;

In our arts we find our bliss,

I have mine, and he has his.




Practice every day has made

Pangur perfect in his trade ;

I get wisdom day and night,

Turning Darkness into light.'




Translation by Robin Flowers 

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ☘️

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.

Return To Happiness

Return To Happiness

 The scent of the lily was sweet, the old ghost's favorite spring flower. Small pure, white bells sprung up in May, and each spring, he anxiously awaited their arrival. There was a special place he had found. A country road passed by the back lot of a house, in the ditch across from the yard, and a patch of lilies grew amongst poison ivy. He had dug some up for his yard and planted two stone pots with moss in one spring, and he always picked large bouquets filling the house with their beautiful heavy scent. The beauty of the afterlife, flowers were always in season, and this Christmas couldn't be without fresh lilies. A long time ago, he had read a book titled "The Meaning of Flowers" and found the lily of the valley's meaning quite beautiful - Return to Happiness. 

"Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see." 

As I mentioned before, these paintings are almost complete. If I feel something I've missed in the process, I will return to it and add in hopefully, removing nothing else from the illustration. Editing not only the writing but the illustrations as well. Some may never make it into the book.

 A mother/daughter Ghostly Adventure, writing together for the first time about their favorite subject, the supernatural. 

♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️

AN AFTERLIFE TO LOVE

An Afterlife To Love

What's not to love? A quiet wild where your home is a little cottage secluded in the wood no one knows exists. Alone, with your cats and your books.

In life on earth, I was never one for being a social butterfly. I found it such a chore and so exhausting being in company. I preferred retiring home with my cats; they were my favored companions. Don't get me wrong, I do like, some people. I like some ghosts: they never really change when they die. But living quietly with the sound of my cat's purr on my lap, a good book to read, my 8th cup of coffee, and the birds singing in the garden makes an afterlife to love.

"Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see."

As I mentioned before, these paintings are almost complete. If I feel something I've missed in the process, I will return to it and add in hopefully, removing nothing else from the illustration. Editing not only the writing but the illustrations as well. Some may never make it into the book.

A mother/daughter Ghostly Adventure, writing together for the first time about their favorite subject, the supernatural.

♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ 

© 2023

“A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.”E.B.WHITE - WRITING A GHOST STORY

WRITING A GHOST STORY 👀

I am a romantic for ghost stories. 

Spooky, mysterious, and entertaining spooks on tv always trap me for an hour or two in telling their scary tales. I believe many people believe in ghosts. I never was one to keep a bucket list, although I do have a few things on a list I would like to achieve before that time; writing a ghost story is one. I wish I could write, and I wish I could paint, I wish I could play the piano. Unfortunately, I do none of those things well. My writing is atrocious. If not for Grammarly and my daughter, I would be lost. Still, I have the desire to write a spooky story. A couple of quotes by E.B. White, one of my favorite authors, inspire me to keep writing. “I admire anybody who has the guts to write anything at all.” And ... “A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.” ― E.B. White. So true. M, my daughter, is my ghostwriter. We are collaborating on this ghostly tale. I recently watched Eugene Levy's, 'The Reluctant Traveler. He met up with a gondolier in Venice and talked about working with their kids. Mr.Levy mentioned how much he had enjoyed working with his son Daniel for seven years. So now, mother and daughter are working together on a ghost book. Today is my birthday; I turn 66. I was born on March 10th, 1957, a wonderful year. And the year I die, well, hopefully, be just as wonderful. No matter how difficult, I want to reach my goal; write the ghost book with my daughter. In the end, I leave behind an artistic legacy for my children. When one has a will, there is always a way. ♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ © 2023 @batandmaggie

MAGGIE

BAT

STORMY, STORMY, STORMY WEATHER

A perfect stormy night for a good sleep, the old ghost thought. 

It poured and rained, such a sweet sleep filled with dreams of his earthly life and memories. Stormy, stormy, stormy weather was his favorite weather.

And then, the sounds of the thundering storm were interrupted by the breaking of glass. Ghost got out of bed and went downstairs to investigate who had disturbed his sleep: a baby owl; perched on the broken window pane. Maggie and Bat were wondering why he was there.







The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.




My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.




Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A mother/daughter Ghostly Adventure, writing together for the first time about their favorite subject, the supernatural. ♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ © 2023 @batandmaggie (Daughter's instagram account)

MY HAUNTED HEART

Becoming old isn't all bad. There are perks like spending your retirement years searching the beyond and wondering about your next life. 👀Will we have a home like here on earth with a willow tree and a pond? A pet or two, maybe a cat and a dog or more? Will the afterlife be the heaven God promised us? One day will have the answers.

BAT @batandmaggie

MAGGIE @batandmaggie

When I was very young, I was unaware of death. And when I did discover the sad truth about life ending one day, that we didn't live forever, the afterlife started haunting my heart. Since then, I've fallen in love with ghosts and cats, the living ones. Of course, books about ghosts/ cats are a favorite. Why not write one of our own? So, here is the next installment of our Ghost Book illustrations. 

Bat, Maggie, and their ghost are in their Victorian cottage hidden in the secret woods no one knows.


"Maybe, we do go home, finally " - Anne Rice


"Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see."

As I mentioned before, these paintings are almost complete. If I feel something I've missed in the process, I will return to it and add in hopefully, removing nothing else from the illustration. Editing not only the writing but the illustrations as well. Some may never make it into the book.




A mother/daughter Ghostly Adventure, writing together for the first time about their favorite subject, the supernatural.

♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ 

© 2023

🎄🐾🐾 HAPPY CHRISTMAS & A MERRY HOLIDAY 🐾🐾 🎄

 🎄🐾🐾 HAPPY CHRISTMAS & A MERRY HOLIDAY 🐾🐾 🎄

 

PORTRAIT OF CAPTAIN GREGG - THE GHOST AND MRS. MUIR

CAPTAIN GREGG

Portrait of Captain Gregg - Sea Captain Oil Painting Digital Download Art Hi-Res JPEG - The Ghost and Mrs. Muir Classic Movie Art The other day I discovered this print of Captain Gregg, the ghost from the 1947 movie classic "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir", one of my all time favourite ghost movie with Rex Harrison and Gene Tierney. I thought where I would hang it and my art studio is the perfect place. So I bought the digital portrait of Captain Daniel Gregg from Sylvester's Charts on Etsy. It's on sale, so a good time to buy it. Now to make a print and find the perfect frame. Constance Metzinger did an amazing job on the portrait of the Ghost Captain. Love♥️

"INFO: This is a newly painted portrait in oil of Captain Daniel Gregg, the famous sea captain featured in the classic film "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir" ( 1947 ). Before the handsome Captain Gregg ( Rex Harrison ) became a ghost and haunted Gull Cottage, he had this portrait of himself painted which Lucy Muir ( Gene Tierney ) had hanging up in her bedroom. 

The original painting used in the film was painted over for use in the 1968 television series "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir". This oil painting was painted by Constance Metzinger in 2022 and replicates the one seen in the film. "

REMEMBER ME ♥️

REMEMBER ME ♥️

In Flanders Fields

BY JOHN MCCRAE

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

    The torch; be yours to hold it high.

    If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

        In Flanders fields.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🧡🖤🎃🎃🐾🐾🐾🐾🎃🎃🧡🖤

When Witches Go Riding and Black Cats Are Seen: The Moon Laughs and Whispers Tis Halloween 🧡🖤🎃🎃🐾🐾🐾🐾🎃🎃🧡

BAT AND MAGGIE ON INSTAGRAM

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🧡🖤🎃🎃🐾🐾🐾🐾🎃🎃🧡🖤