Through these days Cooper has been not quite his usual quiet self. Quiet yes, but slightly off put, As am I Without the third leg of our trio, our pack. He comes along with me but always with A slight hesitation. Early evening I bring Arlo home, stapled up, Drugged and hurting, wobbling out of the car Into our care.
In hospital, I visit our dog and I wonder, How can I do here what I could not do for you? Does it matter.
Earlier I vote and then go visit a gallery you once visited with me. She accepts my latest show For a year from now. Time (oh more time beyond you) To make it better, something I want to do, something I wish You would see.
Kate Mcgarrigle’s Proserpina plays though my head As I drive to the the pet emergency with our dog Arlo How I remember, How can I not remember that last such trip with you And our Dover? But now, I am alone and all the decisions, Everything, just mine. Just mine now, just mine, just mine, just mine. Need, I tell you how much it hurts, how helpless to be now Just me? No.
Our friends leave mid morning I keep busy with things here and With my thoughts I bounce between the past days And day not here yet, touching Here so lightly Too lightly, I make only small Impressions where I need strength To step strongly
A good morning spent with a friend Talking paint, enjoying time with her, A good day Then a fine afternoon as our friend, his girl Arrived, more time to enjoy them, a new bed, I slept well.
I mourn still, Mourn quietly, deeply, the life with you I have lost. It seeps through my days, My nights with dedication, deliberation Past my needs To sorrow with now a soft grief. Constant, consistent, continual, how would I miss that?
The day has passed beyond evening into night, A light sweater is nice but the windows are open. It is raining. Sweet, soft, windless droplets patter beyond the panes, A tangled tattered background beat that is so quietly Soothing to me, Reminding me of the kindness of this universe We all inhabit, with its astounding beauties And astonishing graces.
Resolve, I seem to have acquired a bit, A result of this trip. There are things I Wish for myself Now, that I have given little consideration. Now, not only may I allow, but actually seek How to continue, How to take my life’s decisions with joy And goodness, not without you but with you always within.
A long drive from South Carolina, Listening to the wonderful music by Mary Chapin Carpenter. She's right it doesn't take much To be happy. Finally I am home, sitting, Watching the sun Set on a weekend of allowance. Perhaps you know what l’ve done, if so Also know why.
All life's a challenge and a chance. I have these days very much Experienced the both. I did not come in unaware of possibilities Both good and not so. Thus am fine with The outcomes learned, As I can live with my own shortcomings In a way good for me. However, still, I miss you.
Past childish, girlish fantasies, met A friend, who however unwittingly, allowed Me to learn More about myself. About consequences of pasts About acknowledgement that things in future Can be different. This is what I hoped to discover: that on So many levels, the choice of how to go on Really is mine
“When I’m old and gray, I want to have a house by the sea. And paint, With a lot of wonderful chums, good music, and booze around. And a damn good kitchen to cook in.” A quote worth repeating by Ava Gardner
Clouds lift en-masse into the blue sky, Hazed in subtle colors as they move Towards the horizon. Below the seas march on the shore leaving Criss-crossed backwash reflecting the sky Which I paint.
With a friend spend the morning through afternoon Not doing much, sightseeing, stocking for the place, A lazy day, The ocean here is larger, prancing along the coast, Keeping step as we walk the strand, barefoot, And wind whipped. Later a storm lashed by the gales and carrying Thunder and rain and my dog is left shaking In my arms.
I hold horses for the blacksmith as ever I did Listening to his tales and gossips as ever Did any blacksmith I have known. And then I leave for another shore, driving as the day deepened Into complete darkness, Wending my way south to this other place Where the sea slaps the shore in continuous Told you so's.
Readying to travel again; between that prep Do barn work, hard work that early-on left Me in tears. To no longer be doing it for our life together, Hurt so hard. Today I know hurt still, yet, I know Also, simply the Doing because it needs doing. So, although I miss So much the doing for us, there is also now the Doing for here.
Today’s task was simply. or not so simply, To groom our dogs into some semblance Of acceptable appearance. This may not sound like much but These last few weeks, they have been Left to wallow. Happily, but lately not presentable. Now? They are washed and brushed and still look Like hyper-active kids.
I wrangle with this question, what do with Just me alone. How to embrace single Without being lonely. How my thoughts do sabotage my days, Feeling these lone hours just fall short of those Spent with others, As however poor that time may be, it must be better. I can’t agree. But also can not yet fully accept so much Alone is fine. Perhaps because I have yet to find a way To be single and to also share in a way that eases My soul well.
Spend the day cleaning the studio It is so empty, with little on the walls I am left With my thoughts eddying in my skull. These past weeks, this show has Kept me occupied Well, indeed. Now I wonder, again, what Am I here to do now that I do not have you, Just me alone?
I watch evening deepen from your bench With dogs nearby, no deer seen I am tired. But a different tired. I am sorry my emotions got me this week but I miss you. This weekend did not go quite as I hoped. But really did fine in that so many responded to it. Your soul would be happy With all that happened. I miss you, But am content to sit out here as the light Diminishes, an owl hoots, here, home Easing my soul.
Friends came and took me to lunch Others came through while I worked More paintings sold. And it is a beautiful show, exactly As I envisioned it to be, the day just Doesn't have you.
A long day, enough people at the opening But not enough who willing to buy. I miss you Not being here to help and buoy me up. To remind me of all the old friends who did come. To hug me, I am disappointed that more paintings Did not sell, however much people expressed delight, I Did want sales
A longer day than I wanted it to be Before heading out on the road again I am tired And hoping so much that this show I've put a fair bit into goes well But who knows I've done my best and feel very good About how it works. But who knows what Others will think
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.
