HAPPY EASTER 🐣🐇

HAPPY EASTER 🐣🐇

Well, I’ve wrestled with reality for 35 years, Doctor, and I’m happy to state I finally won out over it.

SWEPT AWAY TO ANOTHER WORLD - IS THERE LIFE ON MARS?

SWEPT AWAY TO ANOTHER WORLD - IS THERE LIFE ON MARS?

The crashing waves on a hot summer's day playfully mix with the crescendos of Life on Mars that's playing inside my head. Dreaming under a shy sun, we have been swept away: to another world. Is there life on Mars?

WIP  

★ LEFT SIDE OF PAINTING IN THE SAND SPELLS BOWIE ★

"HE IS NOT DEAD HE IS LIVING ON MARS"@niallooo

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

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

♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ FLORENCE BLUME -MERRICKVILLE

© 2023

LIFE ON MARS


It's a God-awful small affairTo the girl with the mousy hair
But her mummy is yelling, "No"
And her daddy has told her to go
But her friend is nowhere to be seen
Now she walks through her sunken dream
To the seat with the clearest view
And she's hooked to the silver screen
But the film is a saddening bore
For she's lived it ten times or more
She could spit in the eyes of fools
As they ask her to focus on
Sailors fighting in the dance hall
Oh man, look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man, wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show
Is there life on Mars?



It's on America's tortured brow
That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow
Now the workers have struck for fame
'Cause Lennon's on sale again
See the mice in their million hordes
From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads
Rule Britannia is out of bounds
To my mother, my dog, and clowns

But the film is a saddening bore
'Cause I wrote it ten times or more
It's about to be writ again
As I ask you to focus on



Sailors fighting in the dance hall
Oh man, look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man, wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show
Is there life on Mars?


- DAVID BOWIE **** "HE IS NOT DEAD HE IS LIVING ON MARS" @niallooo

 

ANOTHER GHOST OF A CAT - GENTLEMAN X 👀🐾🐾🐾🐾🖤

ANOTHER GHOST OF A CAT - GENTLEMAN X 👀🐾🐾🐾🐾🖤

He felt someone's eyes on his face. He looked up, across the room, on the top of the picture shelf; the portrait of a gentleman cat in a smoking jacket, wearing an Ascot around his neck, looked back at him. Immediately, Florence didn't waste time and headed straight for the cat. Another painting for his collection he wanted: that's what an art collector does and doesn't worry about where it will hang. When a cat dressed in human clothing, especially when wearing an ascot, becomes available, you don't let it escape you, very rare indeed! It's what you call Anthropomorphism, animals wearing people's clothes, and in Victorian times, it was very much in fashion. Florence grabbed the painting and checked the artist's mark: as he'd suspected, a Neuville, a Mitsou Neuville.

The gentleman cat had no name, for now. There was something mysterious and captivating about the tabby cat with the pronounced M on its forehead, and the more Florence looked at him, the more he couldn't look away. It's his eyes he thought.They want to speak to me. 







Another little share from the book - FLORENCE BLUME👀🖤 




*ALL OUR VISITORS BRING HAPPINESS

SOME BY COMING AND OTHERS BY GOING *




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




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

♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ FLORENCE BLUME -MERRICKVILLE

© 2023

EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK - FLORENCE BLUME - 👀🖤

Florence didn't have a wife keeping count of his ever-growing collection of old things. However, it did come at a cost. He had successfully filled his house to the rafters, in the attic, in the basement, in the garage, and in the small cottage at the back of the property. 

The other day, Florence found an old book at the thrift store someone had painted inside of. 

One of the paintings was of a woman sitting with a cat on her lap: I wonder who she was, Florence uttered out loud, no one there to hear him.




Excerpt from the book - FLORENCE BLUME👀🖤 




*ALL OUR VISITORS BRING HAPPINESS

SOME BY COMING AND OTHERS BY GOING *




"Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see." - Happy April 1st 

And A Happy Caturday🐾🐾🐾🐾


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

♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ © 2023

A GHOST OF A CAT🐾🐾🐾🐾

A GHOST OF A CAT

Maggie and Bats' mom, Shy, came for her dinner and then left. 
How's that for gratitude?

She was never a mom; she hated her job and chose to abandon her three kittens in our backyard. After all, she was just a cat! A cat who was overwhelmed by the enormity of parenthood to three kittens.
Maggie was left to take care of her little brother, Bat. A sister and now his mother; she protected him and did a good job. 
After all, she was just a cat - with a heart! 
Good thing Maggie turned out right. Bat certainly, would not have faired well outdoors.
I wish we had done more to keep Shy and tame her: maybe she would have cared more for her babies. She is only a memory now and a screen saver.
Early mornings always remind me my cat Maggie has never forgotten. She will come and sit on my lap, snuggle, and purr, and the minute I open my computer and the screensaver comes on, she perks up and stares. She remembers.


“Mother is a verb as well as a noun. We all, male and female, have the capacity to mother others.
And we can each, always, mother ourselves.” 
― Orna Ross

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)