When does a moment become a MOMENT?  What causes the mind or spirit to rise to the occasion, and say or do something that makes the moment an event, something grander than the ordinary?  I can think of one particular time in my life when this happened, and I’m thankful that I realized it was happening, and I experienced and appreciated the moment.

 

When Johnny and I were in our 30’s, and had actually reached the time in our life when we had some money, we made some purchases that exceeded what I had always thought of as “financially appropriate” for what we had bought.  We became interested in art, and began purchasing some original paintings.  We fell in love with an oil painting of yellow daisies in a field, and paid $2200 for it.  Whoa!!  My financial sensibilities were stunned, but we could afford it.  Other paintings followed, most cost less, but a couple, more.   We loved the artwork we purchased, and were enriched by it.  But I never talked about how much we paid for them.

Well, we took a trip to California a few years later, and on this trip discovered an artist whose work we were captivated by.  But his paintings were in the $6000 area, a bit staggering for me.  One painting we really loved, and the gallery was willing to ship it to us so we could see it in our house.  I even looked into getting a loan for it!   

After we returned to Baton Rouge, we had dinner at my parent's, with my sister Jill and her two kids, Garrett and Collette, ages 12 and 7.   Papaw, my mother’s father, was also there.  As we sat around the table eating supper, Johnny and I shared some of our trip stories.  The conversation came around to the painting, and after describing it a bit, I even mentioned the price.  And I decided to go out on a limb, saying, “I know most people don’t understand how we can spend that much money on a painting….” and then just sort of trailed off. 

After a moment, my mother said, “I admit, I don’t,” followed by Papaw, Jill, until the nays were all around me.  The table was quiet.  Then, from the end of the table, Collette looked up from her macaroni and cheese and said “I could see it.”

The rest of the family laughed, I guess, because she was only 7 years old, but I felt she could see it.  And I knew that I had been given a blessing. We ended up not buying the painting, because $6,000 was a crazy amount for us, but I loved that moment at dinner.  I don't know if anyone else remembers it, but I do.

 

My Feathery Friend

Over the Christmas holidays, Johnny and I spent a week at Pensacola Beach.  One morning I woke early, and thought, I’ll go out and see the sunrise.  We’d had a stunning sunset the night before, and maybe this sunrise would also be beautiful.  I made coffee, bundled myself up to handle the 35 degree windy weather and headed out to the beach.  I crossed the boardwalk and stepped out on the sand; the sky was still dark and cloudy, and the beach empty.   Sitting on the cold sand was out of the question, so I stood near the boardwalk to get a break from the wind.  A bit of white peeked out from the clouds on the horizon, catching on the break of the waves.

As I stood, waiting and watching, something caught my eye about 100 feet away, moving in the darkness near one of the farther boardwalks.   Slowly, a blue heron moved out into the open area in front of the boardwalk, his head tucked close to his body for warmth.   I was glad for his company, feeling the loneliness of the empty beach.  The heron flew down to the surf in front of me, mingling with a few sandpipers.  Then, he turned and started walking toward me, in his slow, stalking gait.  I froze, wondering, what’s he going to do?  Is he going to fly at me, peck me?  Beat me with his wings?  I resolved myself to accept whatever it was; it would simply be part of the experience.  But he stopped about 10 feet from me near my boardwalk, checking me out sideways with his yellow eyes.  I just stayed where I was, occasionally taking a sip of my coffee, looking back at him sideways.

The sunrise was a bit iffy.  The sky was only showing hints of white among the clouds, and my thin pants were no match for the winter wind.  I took another sip.  The heron flew down to the water’s edge, and walked out into the surf, poking around with his long beak.   Still, no one else had come out to the beach.

 

Suddenly, the heron stepped out of the water and again headed straight for me.  Uh oh, I thought, here it comes, the attack.  But the heron slowly passed right in front of me, stopping about 5 feet from me next to the boardwalk.  He turned, and faced out to the water.  I watched him, his long feathers blowing in the wind, his head tucked close to his body.  And he just stayed.  Every now and then, I’d look over and he’d catch my eye.  Or, at least, that’s what it looked like.  Minutes passed and we watched, the wind blowing, waves splashing, the morning light growing.  We stood together, companionably watching the sunrise, just the two of us.  I was really cold, but there was no way I was moving as long as he stayed. 

After about 15 minutes, the heron slowing stalked off, I guess to find some breakfast.  I watched him go, and, shortly after, went inside for my own breakfast.  I felt so blessed!  I will always be thankful he chose to join me for the sunrise that morning.  

Kitten or Lion?

 

This tickled me so much I just had to post it. 

I've seen so many interpretations of it that I'll just

let you make your own.

 “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas….”

Painting by Todd Young

 

Wise Words from Anne Frank

 

"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature... Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be…amidst the simple beauty of nature. As long as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles."

-–Anne Frank, The Diary of Anne Frank

 

Surely we can hope for the future if wonders such as this are being created and enjoyed!

"Cloud"

by Caitlind Brown

Winner of Awesome Foundation, Calgary, Canada

 

"Distant Thunder"

Andrew Wyeth

1961

When I first saw this painting, I had a moment of quick recognition---"it's me!"   Lying in a field on a sunny day, a dog nearby, binoculars for bird watching, a book, NAPPING.  Hello me!

 It's actually Betsy, the wife of Andrew Wyeth.   I wish I could have known her---she and I would get along!!

Why not go out on a limb?

I am the kind of person who can get into a serious rut.  I’ve eaten the same salad almost every night for 5 years, have two cups of coffee every morning, hike the same trails, watch Frasier reruns, and take a stroll around the backyard every night.  I love to do the same activities I enjoy over and over.   Each is very satisfying to me, but sometimes I think I depend on them to give my life structure.  So I fill my life with my favorite things, but then there’s no room for anything new.  

Could I rotate out some of my favorite things?  And why do I need structure?  Would I fall apart without it?  What would happen?  I don’t know!!   That's the draw and the anxiety.

I guess, in retrospect, some organization is good.  It keeps my life flowing, and allows my mind to wander, which is what I like.  But, really, none of the activities mentioned above fall in the organization category (except for the walk around the backyard at night—the dog must have it!).  

That’s why I love this quote by Mark Twain.  It captures the appeal and the danger of getting out of the comfort zone—sometimes the limb breaks, but if it doesn't, ahhh.....the fruit is delicious.  And, you know, even if the limb breaks, I may still get the fruit, with a few bruises!

I'm Feeling Summer ....

The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly;
The pretty people in the woods,
Receive me cordially.

The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?
Wherefore, O summer's day?


Who else, but Emily Dickinson?
Painting by Jan Blencoe, part of my collection

I'm not a big user of 

four-letter words, but this photo

taken at a tea party rally

tickles me while capturing 
the way I feel 

about the direction

my country is heading. 

The Room of Flowers

 Childe Hassam is one of my favorite American Impressionist painters, mostly because he loved painting flowers and landscapes.   He spent many summers in the late 1800’s at the island cottage of poetess Celia Thaxter, whose passion was flowers, music and art.   This painting, titled "The Room of Flowers," was painted the year of her death, 1894, as a tribute to the many happy summers Hassam spent at her cottage.

 This painting makes me happy on so many levels; it has so many of my favorite things:  flowers, paintings, a sunny day, an open window, and a relaxing read of a good book.   All it needs is a napping dog or cat to be complete!

I’ve included a couple of Celia Thaxter's quotes about the room, taken from her book, “An Island Garden.”

“Opening out over the long piazza, over the flower beds, and extending almost its whole length, runs the large, light, airy room where a group of happy people gather to pass the swiftly flying summers on the Isle of Shoals.  This room is made first for music;  on the polished floor is no carpet to muffle sound, only a few rugs here and there, like patches of warm green moss on the natural hue of the wood.  There are no heavy draperies to muffle the windows, nothing to absorb the sound.  The piano stands mid-way at one side; there are couches, sofas with pillows of many shades of dull, rich color, but mostly of warm shades of green.  There are low bookcases round the walls, the books screened by short curtains of pleasant olive-green; the high walls to the ceiling are covered with paintings and flowers are everywhere.”

And, also:

“All summer long within this pleasant room the flowers hold carnival in every possible combination of beauty.  All summer it is kept fresh and radiant with their loveliness,—a wonder of bloom, color and fragrance.   Every year a long procession of charming people come and go within its doors, and the flowers that glow for their delight seem to listen with them to the music that stirs each blossom upon its stem.”

It's All About Liberty

“Give me liberty or give me death!”

Or, since death isn’t really an option, some sort of  restricted, airless, half-fulfilled life.

Quote by Patrick Henry

Missing the Beach???

 Every January I start missing the beach.  So I find myself gazing at one of my favorite
photos of Penscola Beach, taken by my niece, Hannah.   Look at the sand, can't you just feel how soft it is underfoot?  And the gentle breeze? The warm pinks of the sky.... *sigh* ..........heaven.

If I really want to experience the beach from my office, I pull up this photo, then open up a second internet window for beach sounds, using the link below.  Unfortunately, I couldn't get it to open in a separate window here on the blog.  But you can work it out yourself by opening two windows--  Enjoy!!

http://www.marriottharborbeach.com/

Or you can open the beach sounds link in one window, and in another use the link to the PB webcam, http://www.islandempress.com/webcam/.  Also very good!

Have Yourself

a Merry

Little Christmas...

Posted with artist's permission



A Christmas Mystery

Based on a local ten o'clock news story, with film)

Why did the man punch his neighbor's inflated Santa?

Had his boss chewed him out that day?

Was he enraged by the commercialization of Christmas?

Did his neighbor's dog poop on his lawn?

What could have provoked him so on a starry Christmas night?

In the shadow of darkness, he pummeled Santa.

Hit him with a right, a left, and another right!

Santa didn't stand a chance.

But justice was served by the unseen surveillance camera,

And his neighbor had the last laugh.

Frisbee Time

"Oh, boy!  FRISBEE.
Here we go.
I can't wait!!

Come on!! 
Oh, boy.
Where is it??

Come on
Come on
Throw it!!!"

By Jax McGregor, border collie

Sadly, The Author of "Tolstoy Lied," Lied

Well, I must report that the author of “Tolstoy Lied,” appears to have lied.   In the beginning of the novel, she asserts that Tolstoy was wrong in his first line of "Anna Karenina", which stated that "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."  But, apparently she wasn't able write a novel in which happy people are interesting, because her characters are disappointingly empty and pessimistic.   

I thought for a moment that the author was trying to be clever and prove Tolstoy correct, but at the end of the novel, she tries to pull it together by saying they actually ARE happy, just in their own way.  And, that happiness simply can't be defined.   

LAME!!

Sitting under a shade tree

The cool grass tickles

Breezes blow by

Leaves whisper

Warm sunlight peeks through

My mind wanders, no real place to go

Photo by Johnny; Poem by Lori

School Night

One of my most special childhood memories happened when I was around 12 years old.  I was going through a bit of a rough spell--I can’t remember exactly what it was, a typical 12-year old angst.  One night I was having a hard time, feeling the weight of the world.  It was a school night, and my sisters had already gone to bed.  So I sat in the rocking chair in my bedroom, in the dark, and rocked, holding my favorite teddy bear.  The bear’s head had become separated from his body a year or so earlier, but I still loved him.  So, holding his head in place, I rocked him in the dark, and was comforted.


My parents were still up, and one of them passed the bedroom and apparently saw me rocking, because soon after, both came into my room, took the teddy bear and left with him.  I could hear them in the family room, fussing a bit under their breaths, working together.  I kept rocking, waiting.


About 10 minutes later, they came back in the room, and placed the bear in my arms, his head re-attached by a series of threads.  I continued rocking, a little caught up in my drama, but with a warm place in my heart.  I knew everything was going to be alright.

  

"Border Collie Swinging on the Moon"

This oil painting is one of a small collection I own by Todd Young.   The atmosphere of a summer evening has always been magical to me.  Throw in a border collie, the moon, and a few sheep, and, Voila!







Posted with artist's permission