Solitude

There is a contemplative 

in all of us,

almost strangled

but still alive,

who craves quiet

enjoyment of the Now,

and longs to touch

the seamless

garment of silence

which

makes whole.

                                                 Alan P. Tory

I move around the house, breathing air rich with potential. My thoughts slow, not in lassitude, but with quiet peace that opens me to the broad expanse of today. I look around, see sunlight painting patterns on the fir flooring, Milo basking on the hearth, the meandering stream sparkling through the woods. Birds sing from time to time, but not often; I hear the near stillness of a winter day.

Time alone, solitude-- words of invitation to step out and in. Out of the bustle and pressure of rushing toward the future, into the richness of the present moment. My tattered soul longs for, yet resists the quiet invitation, clinging anxiously to the demands of the urgent, even while reaching for the Now.

The present gently envelops me; my eyes open to the small and the large that I’ve been missing in the rush. Fingers relax, breathing slows and deepens, colors catch and hold my eye, smiles dance across my face…

This hour passes timelessly, I in concert with it. Afterward, my soul once again whole, I look to the future, now filled with peace and joy. 

Morning Sparkle

Savoring Here and Now

Sitting in the darkened living room, Stephen beside me, we watch the Christmas tree lights randomly sequence slowly through varied color combinations--the result of Stephen's programming fun last year. Milo is curled on the hearth, absorbing the fire's warmth; Petra is snuggled at my feet, twitching slightly as she dreams, and the other pets are sleeping nearby.

Christmas music is playing softly, the fire is quietly crackling. All else is still. And so we sit, absorbing the fullness of the moment. Quiet inside and out, reflecting on the gifts of this season. Peace, love, time together, life, hope. A Savior, freely given, and the gift of faith, that we may know him. Nothing is lacking. 

I want to stop time and hold this moment forever. I know I can't, though, so I savor it fully, heart attuned to the present moment in both this time and this place. All of myself here now, with Stephen, with myself, and with our God. 

Tea with Bilbo

Bilbo watched me expectantly, his stub tail wagging, as I put the kettle on, took a mug out of the cupboard, and rustled in the tea cabinet. He knew what that meant: time for afternoon tea. Bilbo, a rescue Australian Shepherd with an unknown history, had a tendency to become anxious if anything in his routine changed. And, of course, most routine went out the window for our family of five during holidays, with three active teenagers and their friends in and out of the house. Add to that my tendency to become stressed during the holidays, and neither Bilbo nor I was a happy camper.

One year, as Bilbo’s anxiety mounted and my holiday-related stress rose, an idea occurred to me. Why not share a cup of tea with Bilbo? I started making a pot of chamomile tea each afternoon, knowing the calming qualities of chamomile, and looking forward to a few quiet moments for myself. Very soon, Bilbo and I were both looking forward to this daily interlude of quiet connection in a busy time of year. I’d make the pot of tea, pour some in a bowl and add a couple of ice cubes, pour myself a steaming mugful, then give Bilbo his tea at my feet, while I sat in my rocker with mine. He would lap, I would sip, and both our stress would retreat for a time. After drinking his tea, Bilbo would settle with a sigh, always touching one of my feet. I would sit quietly so as not to disturb him, and we would enjoy a few moments of quiet connection.

Each dog has given me different gifts; one of Bilbo’s gifts to me was a way to slow down and enjoy simple peace and quiet in the midst of holiday stress. Bilbo is long gone, but those quiet moments shared over a cup of tea are some of my most precious memories of him.

Walk in the Woods with a Child

I recently came across the following poem that my Grandmother wrote many years ago, after walking with me in the woods behind our home one day.  I think I was probably about eleven, when Gramummy asked me to take her for a walk in our woods and show her some of my favorite places. (At that time I spent most of my free time exploring our woods and the 750 acre sanctuary beyond our stone wall.) I remember the joy I felt at the opportunity to share my wonderful world and point out the little signs of the wildlife I loved. I didn't know Gramummy had written about our walk until years later, after she had died, so it was a special gift to receive this poem.

Walk in the woods with your children

And learn the wonders of God.

I walked in the woods with Melissa

And heard the song of a bird,

I saw the print of a field mouse

And smelled the scent of the wood.

I felt the presence of creatures

That gave perspective to man

And yearned for the power of childhood

To know God's miraculous plan.

                         Edith D. Beach

  
This Barred Owl reminds me of one early morning years ago, when Jonathan, Arielle and I got up before dawn and went out into the woods to observe and sketch. We were thrilled to find a Barred Owl posing beautifully in a tree, and we stood for a long time admiring and sketching him.





Riga Falls, where I sat on the damp woods floor and sketched with my nephew Felix last summer

Babycakes Cafe Exhibition

Babycakes Cafe in Poughkeepsie, NY offers space for local artists to hang their work, and my work will be there through the month of December. I'm delighted at the opportunity to exhibit my work locally, and Babycakes has become one of Steve's and my favorite spots to go for an evening out dinner date. Arielle and I have also been there for brunch, and so far everything I have tried there has been delicious.

Here are some of my watercolors you can see at Babycakes.

Stonehenge

Filigree 

Surveying His Kingdom

Blue Ridge Thanksgiving

We met up with most of Stephen's family for Thanksgiving last week in Buchanan, Virginia, a quiet, artsy, rural town in western Virginia. The James River flows by one side of the town, and the town is flanked by both the Blue Ridge and the Appalachian Mountains-- a beautiful place. It was a wonderful time of family fun, hiking, game playing, laughter, and catching up with each other- a perfect Thanksgiving.

The last day we were there, Jonathan and I went up to the Blue Ridge Parkway, pulled off at the first scenic overlook, and sat on the sidewalk absorbing the view and talking about his life in seminary, while I sketched the view.

After we went back to the James River Inn where we were staying, I did another painting loosely based on my plein air sketch.

The evening before we left, I took our three dogs out for a walk along the river and was treated to a gorgeous sunset with pink and purples and golds coloring sky and river and leaving a glow on everything else. I had neither my camera nor my sketchbook with me, so I did my best to commit the scene to memory, and then I painted it when we got back to the inn. I want to do more painting from memory, both as an art exercise and a memory exercise.

Berkshire Break

I visited a friend earlier in the week in the beautiful Berkshire Mountains, and had a wonderfully refreshing break from my busy schedule. Her house overlooks a wooded valley bordered by soft mountain views. The fall colors are mostly past, but the reddish brown of oaks remains, dotted with the blue green of pines and spruces.

I spent a leisurely morning painting the landscape from the dining room, as it was drizzly and chilly outside. Clear sunny days may be spectacularly beautiful, but I especially love the soft, quiet beauty of a misty, wet day in the mountains, and that's what we had.

After a morning of painting, my friend and I hiked through neighboring fields, which were carpeted with thyme-- such a delightful fragrance! In the afternoon, when the rain had stopped, we relaxed in the hot tub on the deck, enjoying the fresh air, the beautiful scenery, and the hoots of owls calling to one another in the nearby trees. A perfect day away!