Sunday, October 27, 2024
Thursday, October 24, 2024
" DOES DOG URINE REALLY KILL TREES "
DOES DOG URINE REALLY KILL TREES
We love dogs, cats and trees.
We originally had a Chicago Hackberry Tree in our front yard when we moved to Equinelle, unfortunately the tree was compromised.
Repeated hits of dog urine peeled the bark off the tree and caused an open wound susceptible to disease. Then, a windstorm hit last year and the tree snapped in half. It was too weak and diseased to fight the wind and died.
A new tree recently was planted in place of the Chicago Hackberry, a Burrr Oak, but the problem remains. Dogs are already favouriting the tree. It will not be long before even the oak, known to live up to 150-250 years, can survive the burns caused by dog urine.
I would love this little tree to grow to old age. One way I can help it grow is to make dog owners aware of the potential harm of dog urine to trees.
Please, pet owners out there, take care when walking your pet.
Below is an excerpt from : MERRILL DOG PARK
"It’s easy to think, “a little pee from my dog can’t do harm to a huge tree.” Next time you go for a walk with your dog think about it. Your dog “marks” the tree, then another dog walks by smells your dog’s scent and hits it again, a few minutes later and another dog walks by, hits it again. This goes on multiple times a day 365 days a year. Some trees are hit more than others and the cycle begins. One dog’s scent ends up on a tree and other dogs just keep marking it, over and over until the tree is compromised."
Written by Christine MacLean
If interested in the article here is the link.
https://merrilldogpark.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/click-here-to-learn-more-about-why-dog-pee-is-harsh-on-trees.pdf
Saturday, October 19, 2024
1949, sitting on the rooftop on an Autumn night π Oldies playing in anot...
Fall, Leaves, Fall
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
Compared to Bronte's other works, this poem is relatively concise and straightforward, lacking the complex symbolism and emotional intensity of her later poetry. Yet, it shares her themes of mortality, isolation, and the enduring power of nature, which would become central to her writing.
As a product of the Victorian era, the poem reflects the prevailing Romantic sensibility, which emphasized introspection, melancholy, and a fascination with the natural world. The speaker's acceptance of the changing seasons aligns with the Romantic belief in the inevitability of change and the beauty inherent in decay.
The poem's simple yet effective imagery creates a vivid picture of the transition from autumn to winter. The falling leaves and shortening day evoke a sense of loss and inevitability, while the promise of snow and the "drearier day" suggest both the passage of time and the potential for renewal.
Friday, September 20, 2024
Maggie, look at the Moon, Isn't she beautiful?
Alone, in a room, painting, writing, creating. A quiet place where there is nothing there to interrupt your thoughts. I get up early most days while everyone else in the house is sound asleep. Usually, around the hours of 2 - 4 a.m. A lambent spotlight shines on the painting I work on, a perfect light for creating a spooky mood. The slightest sounds I make summon Bat and Maggie downstairs to watch me paint. In the solitude of an early morning, just me with my cats, my painting and a cup of coffee is wonderful.
LATEST WORK
Over the top of the mountains the moon
Rose unexpectedly
In the sky it drifted,
A bird, a fairy!
Blown out, round and sweet
Melon-like!
It danced in the sky
Impassioned
In the fragrant night,
Lighting every road,
Making my head swim,
My senses dazed.
Did I dream?
Did I really see you?
You fell into the well
Like the declining sun.
Moon, wink at me
Bright Moon, magic moon
The mirror of the loving girl,
Peep out at the balcony!
Patrizia Gattaceca
Tuesday, September 17, 2024
BLUE VELVET
Do you ever feel the urgency to rush to the local thrift store with thoughts a treasure is waiting, for you inside? Well, last Saturday, I got the feeling. When I arrived in the parking lot and parked the car, I couldn't get out of the car fast enough and quickly realized that moment I was being silly with my thoughts. I was wrong! I did find a treasure and the black velvet maxi opera coat someone else was trying on, just like the one I owned in the early eighties, I missed by mere moments.
I was dreaming in blue today. Blue velvet and Black velvet, and so, my colours of the landscape, and suddenly, this song popped inside my head: Bluer than velvet was the night. Wow, It's been a long time since I heard this oldie. This song takes me back to the early sixties when I was a little girl. Music brings back memories. Some music lingers in our heads forever, timeless, waiting for something to bring it back to life. My painting did that to me. WIP
Blue Velvet
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet was the night
Softer than satin was the light
From the stars
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet were her eyes
Warmer than May, her tender sigh
Love was ours
Ours, a love I held tightly
Feeling the rapture grow
Like a flame burning brightly
But when she left gone was the glow of Blue velvet But in my heart there'll always be
Precious and warm a memory through the years
And I still can see blue velvet through my tears
Saturday, September 14, 2024
HAUNTED WALK
HAUNTED WALK - WIP
Dark and moody. A love for vintage, a passion for old, old anything, old houses, old graveyards, old clothes, old velvet and old lace. A nostalgic yearning for souvenirs from the past. To be surrounded by the antiquity of yesterday, now gone and long. Secret gardens that never sleep, filled with purple, blue, white, and silver under a white moon, intoxicated by
their fragrance drifting on the night air. Deep, dark forests hidden away from the world, enchantingly haunted. I dream of escaping the world, finding my gothic fairytale cottage before I die and eventually passing it on to my kids. Meanwhile, I paint my dreams. I just watched Steffi/Moda Misfit on YouTube and watched two of her videos. Whimsigoth Decor and Dark Cottagecore Decor, I adore both of these styles.
I love painting on old wood, incorporating my artwork in old vintage frames and bringing the past into the present. I believe my art follows these vibes.
OLD LOVE - Some Oldies I did
Tuesday, September 10, 2024
A Selkie Tale
An original acrylic painting on stretched canvas
Thursday, September 5, 2024
Midnight, the Stars and You- A Selkie Tale
Midnight, The Stars and You- A Selkie Tale
Blue looked to shore, longing to see her love, her secret.
It's Halloween night, midnight when magic appears.
She disrobes and walks upon the beach and makes her rendezvous.
Midnight, the Stars and You -AL BOWLLY
Midnight and a rendezvous
Your eyes held a message tender
Saying: I surrender all my love to you
Midnight brought us sweet romance
I know all my whole life through
I'll be remembering you
Whatever else I do
Midnight with the stars and you
Midnight brought us sweet romance
I know all my whole life through
I'll be remembering you
Whatever else I do
Midnight with the stars and you
Saturday, August 31, 2024
BEWITCHED by Cloud 9
Painting requires patience to create a beautiful landscape, much like a well-told story becomes immortal. To conceive the magic in a landscape, I must remember to be patient, take time, not rush and remember to add the details. And then, it becomes bewitched.
Thursday, August 29, 2024
CLOUD 9
CLOUD 9 -WIP
Pudding Cake Cove: a place of my dreams.
When I paint, I most often find myself on cloud 9. Usually, while my husband cooks, I paint."Where's your mind, Anna"? When he continues talking, I often reply with the phrase, "I'm on cloud 9", having no clue what he said following his inquiry.
Painting allows me to create the places I dream of. The sea is one place I love and love to paint. I suppose it is because I was born by the sea. One can never forget their first home.
I'm not sure what to call my art style. I guess it is naive, along with the style of Maud Lewis.
So, here is my current happy place.
Saturday, August 24, 2024
CATCH ME IF YOU CAN
When one lives with cats, there is never a dull moment; cats love to tell us stories, mostly funny ones.
I asked Bat, "Remember last Christmas, what happened to Tom "? "I remember. Just when he reached the top of the tree, the branch snapped under him, and he fell".
Not exactly, I said. Tom shouted to the ghost: " Oh no, catch me if you can." Lucky for him, the ghost caught him.
Sunday, August 11, 2024
The Window in The Attic - Art and A Little Ghost Story
I found a place to hide from the world — a room with a view of the golf course in front of my home. I pretend we don't live in a sleepy community but in the countryside, alone with nature.
The rain had woken me from a dreamless sleep; the cool air in the room that had come in from outside suggested autumn soon would come. The old lace curtains fluttered and lifted gently in the breeze, casting strange shadows on the wall. Alone- inside the attic room, I watched the rain pitter-patter on the window panes. The door creaked open, Bat; my black cat peaked around, jumped up to the window sill and calmly sat. He looked at the green landscape but was fascinated by a white light that danced in front. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the curtains and the distant chirping of birds carrying on the wind. The rain had stopped. All was calm and then.
I thought I might have seen a lace-wearing candlelit cat spook.
The candle's flame flickered wildly and then, with a soft puff, went out.
Thursday, August 8, 2024
FOREVER - 2024 A GHOST PAINTING
FOREVER - 2024 PAINTING AVAILABLE ON ETSY
The painting depicts a small ghost in a dark, spooky room, lit only by the moonlight coming through the gothic windows and the candle the ghost holds in his hand. He has an ankh in his other hand, the key the Egyptians believed unlocked the gates to immortality.
FOREVER
I had not known before
Forever was so long a word.
The slow stroke of the clock of time
I had not heard.
‘Tis hard to learn so late;
It seems no sad heart really learns,
But hopes and trusts and doubts and fears,
And bleeds and burns.
The night is not all dark,
Nor is the day all it seems,
But each may bring me this relief—
My dreams and dreams.
I had not known before
That Never was so sad a word,
So wrap me in forgetfulness—
I have not heard.
Paul Laurence Dunbar 1872 – 1906