Tag happily along for a meeting with the annuity fellow, To listen to his pitch and ask questions, too. We three Listen happily together. Better is to then treat for lunch at Yellow Dog Eats, Their choice, delightful, and sweet to share this new Discovery near them.
Last nights steak and annuity dinner gave us All good food, entertainment and even things To think about. From finances to family, gone and here, to dogs Who keep us smiling, to considering what will be The next steps. I spend the day with these two people, my family Because they are your family and we are comforted In each’s company.
Wanted the house-sitter to have it not hard. Relied on another to do a task, not add to it. Would’ve been easier To set straight when I had planned. Thankfully it didn’t take too much time from enjoying my friends. Dinner from a found recipe requiring both Of us to prepare with good seasonings and Lots of laughter.
Picked up car and on the road before noon. Picked up phone to hear of things not done And problems arose. And after I settled down, realized I only can and should do what I can do that makes me And mine happier. Arrived to walk back roads with my friend and her dog To chat with a neighbor and admire her horse, then Home to cook.
It is still so cold here but not like four years ago. I will be on the road again tomorrow morning, travelling with a friend, Her escort south. We will talk a lot and hole up in some motel several hours out, then rise and back on the road. She’s good company. Today, spent getting things in order and, as usual wistful, At leaving, thinking there are so many things to do, even Amidst being alone.
Another arctic sensibility has descended showering its splendor In cold slanting late light, rosy and manganese blue on snowy whites, Purpled through shadows. The sky, crystal gradations of soft greens through deep cobalt, The snow, crisp underfoot. My work on the beautiful table built By a friend. While that snow-shine bathes through these high-ceilinged rooms, I sit here, sweet coffee near, searching for words, contently suffused In wintrylight.
The part of the house I do not use, it is looking pretty good. The part I live in, well looks as it always has, messy in the corners, filled with concerns. It rather reflects my life now, I suppose, the part I use little Presents well, where I am unraveling, raveling, doing as I can is not pretty.
On this day, another quiet day of little contact, I count what has happened: a young person came and fixed my ceilings well At a price I thought very good. Whew, a bit of beauty there! I am grateful to receive it, otherwise, for all that sweetness I am alone. A state I must need to accept and consider with love and passion. For it is what is now and I can't be blinded to not consider how now life is.
During this string of quiet days, I am occupied In the studio. Yesterday’s problem, although still Under consideration, does Not keep me from my work, only lets the mind ramble Through thoughts of why I do this, not will I do this. It is Not for company, Not for money or obviously recognition. Little in any, but enough. If I have problems on this road, they are mine, along with the Work done well.
This day has not been easy as I have been delt a blow To my core that runs deep and I do no longer can ask a Person dear, true? Am I way off or not? I think I am, so must go with that. This so hurts most, and as I have no longer trusted guidance, I am alone. So must measure the hurt of rejection against the truth of ability. I have never had ability. Perhaps it is time to recognize that.
An enjoyable afternoon lunch along the river with a friend. A good talk, each of us is coping, while considering Thriving again possible. This photo, found in Wyoming, hangs near my desk, Testimony to always welcome what I love, what brings joy, What is fine. A token evoking courage not only to open arms wide To that which is cherished but if it is good, to even Embrace the cost.
Another quiet day, fog at daybreak, Clearing by mid-morning, warm. I try to keep Thoughts warm, too As I move through the day, calling friends and Contemplating where life could take me if I could Decide to move My self in a good direction. Am learning you will always Move with me, soft and encompassing as walking through Evening ground fog.
Spent a bit of the morning painting, a quick sketch Still considering grays, reflective of how I feel, Which is fine, For there are times when being swathed in fog As tonight, allows time to be quiet, reflect, consider. And paint more. When that happens well, I feel space open, letting The mind chose and contemplate even if just in Passages of paint.
A run a around day, the car will get fixed, of course, Generator will start, I putter about in between glad For small things. The skies are swathed in color this evening, Hear friends’ child will marry on your birthday, glad For good things.
Today the ceiling is getting fixed, tomorrow will need To start calling for the car to get fixed. The damage is not much, And I am not hurt, but the time. Have been gone much of the past month and am feeling at odds and so behind And while much of the paperwork is caught up. And the house cleaned up, the habit of painting feels dried up.
Spent most of the day just catching up then an invite to dinner and I went, it is company that I enjoy. So I went even though still had plenty to do here Driving home a deer hit me, adding to the feeling I can’t catch up.
Woke to a pearl gray day of quiet rain, Two cats purring among the pillows, two Dogs sleeping, but No you. No longer wake to your warmth but Wake ever to your presence remembered All through me, Allowing me to move through the hours Hemmed by soft dampness, content to Be inside working.
Home in time to see the wallops rocket launch, spiraling wisps over our hay fields. You did Just enjoy that. Dusk settles in blues and purples, soft viridians and red golds. I do Just miss you.
Not even four years ago was it as cold as today That was a chill deeper than this, pierced cold hurtful This simply freezing. That I can take, driving the coastline to be with friends, Hunkered in warmth of a good cottage and company on The Atlantic shore.
I was not sure what this day would bring for me. I love you, miss you and wish you were yet by my side. So through this quiet day, a day sliding into Bitter cold, I moved trying to ready all with help from a friend. But moved mostly in quiet solitude, finally painting a sketch for you, as I used to, of me. Can you see.
A day of driving and listening to music, All the songs I chose for your memorial And I wept, Wept for these and new ones, but mostly Allowed the music to sooth even when I heard this: Have you ever lost all that you can loose? Then, you are a paid up member Of the blues.
The Studio at Line's End Farm is where I paint and try to find some joy again, and some equilibrium, not simple these days. One weblog records thoughts, ideas, methods and mixtures, palettes, observations, actually anything that intrigues me concerning my painting and working in the studio. Another observes only the horse in paintings that I find influential. The last are done for my sanity. All are my opinion only, open to other suggestions.
I will write in red, for my dear, love; who never saw red, not in ink, not in ire.
In 2010, the cold went beyond ten decades, was a century mark of hard winter through the mid-atlantic. For one small household banked by an Eastern Shore river this winter was epochal.
