Category Archives: Melissa’s Musings and Doodlings

Dog on my easel
coming to life with color
I’m eager to see your face

I’m still painting dogs. I just love trying to capture on paper the feeling of connection in the expression of a devoted dog looking at his or her person. I also like to play with colors or sometimes with just one color to capture the feeling of a dog, whether looking at his person or sleeping contentedly.

Sleeping Beardie

Shaggy Dog– this is my second painting of this Shaggy Boy. I enjoy trying to get the feeling of the bright sunshine on his fur.

Here’s the start of a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. I don’t usually start with the eye, but on this one I did. Often the eye is the last part that I paint. On this pup, though, his eye is really the focal point, so I decided to start with that.

I’ve been enjoying painting dogs this week, both in my sketchbook and in larger paintings. I’ve also been reading several books on wolves, coyotes, and foxes; I always love learning about wild canids.

I’m still recovering from my concussion and can’t do a whole lot of any one thing before I have to either rest or switch to some activity that uses a different part of my brain. Painting seems to tire me less than pretty much anything else, so I’ve been doing a fair amount of it, especially when I need to calm my mind. I’ve been painting dogs for the past few days, but we just got 17 inches of snow and it’s still snowing hard, so I’ll probably be trying my hand at snow scenes soon.

Here’s Gomez, the sweet Basset Hound I painted a while ago. I decided to do another painting from the same photo but make a few changes in emphasis and background.

Then I painted my sweet Beagle boy, Milo. This was done using a reference photo of him lying on my lap looking up at my face. I love painting Milo and am now working on another of him using a paper with a different surface to get a different effect.

And here are some African Wild Dog or Painted Dog sketches, using Arielle’s photos from her trip to South Africa last summer. I still don’t have the proportions quite right, but I’m going to keep practicing these until I have a feel for them. As with most of my paintings, these are done with just watercolor, without sketching beforehand. I was inspired to paint these Wild Dogs both by Arielle’s photos and by a blog entry by Alison Nicholls, a watercolor artist who paints many African animals and who did a recent blog post about Painted Dogs.

Painting relaxes me in a way little else does, and sometimes I just can’t (or don’t want to) put down my brushes for hours at a time. Last night I painted until late and today I spent this sunny day in my bright studio playing with a variety of subjects and styles.

Bearded Collies– I’m in the mood to paint shaggy dogs

An elegant adult in the snow

Fuzzy Beardie puppy

A Bible verse I was meditating on

African Wild Dog sketch using a photo of Arielle’s. The dog was sitting in a puddle of water.

Valentine’s flowers from Stephen in different light and in different styles.

At night under artificial lighting

In natural daylight– it fascinates me the way blue flowers, especially, look different in different lighting.

I usually have several paintings going at one time (just as I’m reading several books at a time), and I switch back and forth to whatever I feel inclined to paint. Here are a variety of sketches I’ve done recently.

Some quick, simple sketches of African mammals, using a friend’s photos.

A neighbor called to say she’d had an owl spending the days in her trees, so I went over a couple of times to photograph him. It was too cold to stay outside to sketch him, but I’m hoping to get back and do that if he’s still there. Here are a variety of sketches done to get a feel for the owl and just for fun.

While waiting to meet a friend at the Walkway Over the Hudson, I started a quick tree sketch in the parking lot, then finished it after our walk. I love the shapes and details of winter trees and would like to do a series of paintings or ink drawings of them. The sun shining on this tree especially caught my eye.

Sitting together by a crackling fire or a glowing woodstove.

Hiking, exploring, and sharing breathtaking views.

Sitting together on a remote ledge, you reading aloud to me…

and me painting.

Enjoying wild blueberry patches at Minnewaska.

Enjoying lively discussions and fun family time with Nathaniel, Jonathan, and Arielle

Laughing together as we watch our dogs play chase.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Stephen! I love you!

Milo is a comfort-loving Beagle and is rarely found resting anywhere other than on a soft surface. A dog bed, an armchair if I’ve forgotten to cover it, a lap (best of all). Occasionally he’ll lie in a sunny spot on a rug, but generally only if there’s strong sunlight streaming in or a warm fire crackling nearby.

Last night I was on the couch reading and looked up to see Milo sitting quietly in front of me, patiently waiting for me to notice him. When he saw that I was looking, he met my eyes, then moved his to glance briefly at my lap, then back at my eyes. He repeated his silent request once more, then just held my gaze. I don’t know how anyone could resist such a sweet, clear, polite communication. I certainly can’t, and I smiled, which Milo correctly interpreted as an invitation to leap on my lap and curl up.

I hit my head hard a few days ago and have a concussion and thus have been on the couch most of the time. Sometimes lying with Milo on my chest, sometimes sitting with him on my lap, but mostly just by myself, because I can’t deal with much stimulation of any sort right now, even the slight movements of a warm, snuggly Beagle. I just woke up from a semi-nap and looked down to see my sweet Beagle Boy lying, curled in a tight ball, on the floor beside my head. Not a comfortable spot for him, not anywhere he ordinarily sleeps, but as close to me as he could be. Of course, that earned him another invitation to hop up.

These moments with Milo remind me of similar moments with past dogs. Willow’s eyes– dark brown eyes with black “eyeliner” around them, following me everywhere as I walked around the house. Willow would curl in a tight ball and rest his muzzle across his back, then watch me. I’ll always remember those sweet, dark eyes following my every movement. The last night of Willow’s life, when I knew I’d be taking him for his final trip to the vet the next morning, I slept on the couch and he slept curled up beside me, my hand resting on his back. We both just wanted the comfort of being close, I because I knew what was coming and Willow because his place, as always, was by my side.

I am also remembering Fleeber’s last day, which makes me think back on my years with her. She and I had over fifteen wonderful years together. Years packed full of adventure, learning, change, and connection. Fleeber accompanied me to college classes, ran miles beside my bike before dawn to get to my goat herding job in time for morning milkings (where she helped me herd the goats to the milking parlor), adjusted with me to Steve’s and my marriage, welcomed the children and, in many ways, we grew up together. Perhaps I’ll write another post just about Fleeber, because there is much to reminisce on and tell about her life.

During Fleeber’s last couple of days, she stopped eating and then seemed to sink into a coma. She was entirely unresponsive, but didn’t seem to be suffering in any way, so I kept her warm and comfortable and stayed close.

As Friday afternoon stretched on, Fleeber suddenly lifted her head, then pulled herself to her feet and headed for the door. Astonished, I carried her out to the grass, thinking she had awakened to relieve herself, but no, she headed with faltering but deliberate steps for my car, then collapsed by the door. Did she somehow know that soon we’d be heading out for the children’s soccer practices? We hadn’t even started to prepare, and I had been worrying about leaving Fleeber for that time, but she was clearly stating that she was going with us. I made a soft nest for her on the seat, then went in to help the children get ready.

While the children practiced soccer, I stroked my once more unresponsive dog, who now lay limply curled on the seat of my car. At one point I got out to stretch my legs and clear my head for a minute, then went back. I leaned in and Fleeber opened her eyes, searching till she met mine. As I gazed into my old dog’s familiar eyes, her pupils slowly expanded… then she was gone… a sweet good-bye, a moment I will always hold in my heart.

Wind brushing through the Willows; ice-covered creek gurgling as it wends beside the woods and under a footbridge; the squeak and crunch of zero degree snow under my insulated Muck boots.

Sun blindingly bright on white snow; tree limbs silhouetted against pink and orange hues of sunset; moon casting sharp, black shadows of fences and trees; stars twinkling in the indigo sky.

A peaceful spot to think and write. The luxury of time to read without interruption. The joy of playful walks with my dogs. Beauty all around to capture with brush or pencil in my journal.

I spent Friday and Saturday alone in the guest house at my parents’ farm. It’s a small, simple, quiet place that allowed me the space and time to unwind, read, reflect, write, paint, and walk in beautiful surroundings with my dogs. No road noise, no people, no internet, no sounds but those supplied by nature.

I was long overdue for some retreat time, and I feel wonderfully refreshed and energized by my time alone. When I first got there I found myself hopping up and down, distracted by every little thought and impulse that passed through my mind. After a few hours I was calm on the inside, sitting quietly with Milo curled on my lap, a cup of tea in my hand, while I alternately read and gazed out the window while pondering the books I was reading (The Return of the Prodigal Son, by Henri Nouwen and The Introvert Advantage by Marti Olsen Laney).

When I woke up at 3:00 AM, the bright moonlight drew me out into the frigid but peaceful night. Petra and I walked quietly up the hill to look out over the valley, then Rowan and I explored down toward the pond and danced gleefully in the snowy field.

Time alone in silence helps me find and draw forth the quieter parts of myself, the parts that get shoved down when I live with noise and the busyness of daily life and my inner compulsion to keep constantly connected with the world via the computer. I like those more reserved aspects of my being and feel more complete and alive when I nurture them. I won’t wait so long before seeking solitude again.

I’m still painting dogs and loving doing each one. Every dog is such a unique individual, and it’s my pleasure and a challenge to capture some of what makes that dog who he or she is.

I haven’t painted my Petra yet. Actually I have, quite a few times, but haven’t felt like I’ve really captured who she is. Petra is so full of action and verve and inner strength, that it’s been hard to get all that on paper. I think I may need to try a different style, perhaps looser, to get the essence of who she is. I’ll keep trying.

I’m actually off to the vet with Petra in a few minutes, and we were at the emergency vet with her on Saturday night. She seems to be having a reaction to her rabies vaccine and also some other illness, perhaps a recurrence of Lyme Disease. At any rate, she’s been an unhappy and not-so-energetic girl the past two days. She did run up a couple of trees yesterday (she leaps six feet up trees, then “runs” a couple of feet higher, before turning and gracefully dropping to the ground), but not nearly as high or as enthusiastically as usual.

This is Bounce, a small but mighty Sheltie. Bounce is an elegant lady of a dog who belongs to a friend of mine.

And here’s Pip, a small powerhouse of a dog, who belongs to another friend of mine. Pip is a blast– intense, funny, smart as a whip, and very, very focused.

I had so much fun today! I’m still pretty much housebound (the cold air is hard on my lungs), so I have lots of time to paint, and today I could hardly tear myself from my easel. I love days like this when I become so excited about whatever I’m painting that I can’t wait to get back to it when I stop to eat or to get chores done. Even when I don’t have brush in hand, I’m painting in my mind, which is just as much fun.

I started out this morning with a really quick watercolor sketch of a Basset Hound. That was just a warm-up to get my mind flowing with color. Then I worked some more on the duck I started the other day. I think I’ve pretty much finished him now. I made an interesting discovery about the paper I was using, while working on the duck. It is some rough paper that our next-door neighbor had when I was a child. I don’t know how long he’d had it at that point, but he was quite elderly, so I’m guessing for a while, which means this paper has been around for at least 40 years.

What I discovered is that I can lift all of the paints I was using off this paper, even some greens which are usually staining colors. At first it was a bit disconcerting to have the greens, which I was trying to paint over, come right off the paper, but it occurred to me that I could make good use of that characteristic.

I spent most of the day painting this Basset Hound, Gomez, who spent a couple of months with me last year. I really, really liked him and was sad to see him leave. I had the best time painting him today and remembering what a fun and sweet dog he was, once he got over the worst of his Separation Anxiety, which is why he was here. My goal in this painting, as with most of my dog paintings, was to capture the love and connection in his expression as he looked up at the person he was with (in this case me).

I used to look at a partially done painting and be discouraged; I didn’t have the confidence to be patient with the process or the experience to see the as-yet-unrevealed beauty that was developing. I was often tempted to quit on a painting, sure that it was a failure. Now, however, I’m learning to look at the potential and step back to think about how I can bring out strong points and work on ameliorating weak areas. I can picture in my mind how a painting might turn out– usually several possible options of how it might look, depending on which path I take.

Pondering that while painting this evening, I realized that that is what my own and other people’s lives are like. Works in process, developing into who God has made us to be, as yet unfinished and sometimes discouraging if we look with a limited perspective. The good news for me, though, is that God is a Master Painter, and he is guiding the process and selecting the “paints” that color my life to bring out the potential and inner beauty he has built into me. I might not find certain stages attractive, but it is all part of the process of growing me into who I am meant to be.

Here is the painting I was enjoying doing this evening. One of many painting of Jade, the Mallard Duck who used to frequent our stream every spring for a week or so.

Early stages with only a hint of where it’s going.

Starting to look more like a Mallard, but still has a long way to go.

This painting isn’t finished yet; it needs to “rest” at this stage so the paint can dry thoroughly, otherwise what I do next would interfere with what is here. No visible change or effort going into it doesn’t mean nothing is happening, though. The washes are setting a bit as they dry and I am pondering what to do next. It’s all part of the process.