Category Archives: Melissa’s Musings and Doodlings

Journal January 4, 2010
Originally uploaded by Melissa Fischer

I’ve been watching and sketching birds at my feeder and painting birds. I was fascinated to see a White-breasted Nuthatch carefully and thoroughly sunning himself.

I was sketching when I noticed a White-breasted Nuthatch lying motionless on the feeder. I thought perhaps he was sick (he didn’t look injured) and sketched him while watching to see if he would move. After a few minutes he did, just to shift position so that he was tipped forward in an odd position, then he once again remained motionless for a few minutes. I began to wonder if he was sunning himself when he shifted again, this time to hang sideways, head downward, on the edge of the feeder. Again he remained motionless, obviously soaking up the sunshine.

For a warm up today I did a quick watercolor sketch of an Ostrich, using one of Arielle’s photos from South Africa as a reference. I ended up liking my sketch and am sorry I painted it on such a tiny scrap of paper and right up to the edge. It was fun, though, and I’m sure I’ll be painting more Ostriches in the coming days.

A while back I painted a gull in flight and I wanted to do the same bird again but with a stormy sky this time. She keeps flying forward, despite the stormy clouds around her.

And here is the Mallard I’ve been working on. This is from a photo Jonathan took of Jade, the Mallard drake who used to visit our stream every spring along with his mate, Agate.

I’ve had some time alone this morning and have been thinking about the passing of one year and the start of another. I’m not into making New Year’s resolutions, but I do like to look back at the past year with gratitude for what was good and to make peace with the hurts and disappointments. This helps me move into the New Year with the past being a springboard for living fully in the present.

A painting from 2009. This speaks to me of wisdom gained and lessons learned, even in darkness and through hurts; now it’s time to learn from the past and leave it behind.

Another 2009 painting. I have so much to be thankful for; there was much joy sprinkled throughout the year.

A painting that I started yesterday, as yet unfinished, that moves me onward into 2010, eager to see what lies ahead and to keep my eyes on the goal.

The prayer guide I wrote for our church for this past week has helped me meditate on 2009 and look forward with anticipation to 2010.

“One thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3: 13-14

New Year’s resolutions rarely seem to result in lasting change, yet the start of a new year seems like an ideal time for evaluating and redirecting ourselves. We don’t have to be stuck in our pasts. We have a goal to strive for, which us gives purpose, direction, and motivation every day. This week let’s seek to come to peace with this past year so that we can leave it behind, and let’s realign our focus on Jesus so that we can follow him more faithfully. If we get our past in perspective and our goal clarified, our actions should fall in line more effectively.

Daily Prayer Suggestions

Monday: Take time today to reflect on the past year. Thank God for his love and many blessings. Entrust the disappointments, hurts, and concerns to his loving care. Ask for mercy where you have fallen short and gratefully accept his forgiveness. Joyfully thank him for the abilities he’s given you and the ways he’s worked through you.

Tuesday: Allow God to strengthen you and fill you with his peace as you continue to leave the past with him. He redeems our brokenness and brings good from it, and he strengthens us where we’re weak, if we allow him to.

Wednesday: In many ways we can’t know what lies ahead, but we do know that God is in charge and that our lives are in his hand. Reflect on what it means that God is sovereign, and entrust your hopes and dreams for this coming year to him.

Thursday: What is your goal in life? While we have many intermediate goals, God calls us to seek first his kingdom, to set our eyes on Jesus and live for his glory. Commit yourself to wholeheartedly seeking God and living for him.

Friday: Ask God to give you such a passion for him that you will eagerly strive to know him better and follow him in your daily life this year.

Saturday: There is a prize; God promises to bless us when we follow him. Rejoice in God’s goodness and his promises.

As I mentioned in my last post, Rowan often seems more human than dog. His gaze is both intense and soft at the same time and holds much wisdom.

Rowan knows me so well and can always seem to tell when something is amiss with me. He alerts me to when my blood sugar drops before I realize it; he’ll sit nearby and snort at me to get my attention. If that doesn’t work he’ll bark at me until I respond.

I’m not always sure what Rowan is trying to tell me, but I ask him questions and he “answers” me in a way he’s figured out to communicate with me. First I usually ask if he wants to go out. If yes, he perks up his ears and trots to the door. If no, he turns his head aside or crouches low. Then I ask if Petra wants to go out, since he’ll often let me know (since she doesn’t usually let me know and just crosses her legs). If yes, he perks his ears up and take a few steps toward the door, then stops when she runs past him. If no, he’ll avert his head.

Next I ask if he needs water. If yes, he perks up his ears and trots to the dish. If no, he averts his head. Then I ask if I need to eat. If yes, he trots to the kitchen and lies down as soon as I start to get myself some food. He is such an awesome dog!

If I’m asleep when my blood sugar drops, he’ll jump up and paw and sniff me to wake me up (normally I can’t get him to jump up to put his paws on the bed). Sometimes I’m so sleepy I ignore him; at those times he gives me a minute, then comes back more strongly, insisting I get up. As soon as I get up and head for food, he curls up and goes back to sleep. Such a fabulous dog!

Even more than all of that, though, what I love about Rowan is how connected we are. He loves to be with me; I love to be with him. He doesn’t ask for a lot of attention and he almost never pushes for affection when the other dogs are around, but I know I’m always in his awareness. All I have to do is quietly say, “Rowan, I need you,” and he comes running. I love this dog so much!

I’ve been home for over a month now recovering from bronchitis (almost better now), and my dogs have been my constant companions, rarely leaving my side, following me from room to room, warming my lap, making me smile and laugh.

Milo dances gleefully, wags his tail wildly, and bobs his head with unmitigated joy. Petra slips up silently to gently rest her muzzle on my leg, then gazes up with such loving eyes she instantly melts me and any concerns on my mind. Rowan’s been watching me, clearly concerned that I haven’t been my normal healthy self, and I often look up to see him staring at me from across the room. I do wonder what’s going through his mind; he often seems more human than dog.

While I’ve been enjoying my dogs so much, I’ve been painting dogs, both mine and others. In each painting I try to capture something of the essence of the bond that dog has with someone. The person might not be in the painting, but hopefully they are inferred by the look in the dog’s eyes, by the happy doggy smile, or by the intense focus as the dog is obviously giving his or her attention to someone. Our dogs are in so many ways an integral part of our lives, and we are also an integral part of their lives. Each of us needs the other in the unique and special connection we have.

Well, this really is a nasty bug, and it has knocked me down for a spell. I’m on the mend now, though, and getting up for brief periods of mild activity in the house in between rest times on the couch. I’ve canceled nearly everything on my calendar and I’m focusing on getting a few things done that I can do quietly at home. I’ve also had lots of time to read, which is always a treat.

I’m taking an online artist journaling class, which has especially been a boon while I’ve been under the weather. The class is fun, inspiring, and freeing. Cathy Johnson, the instructor, is very encouraging and inspiring. She opens the door to possibility, something that is so important to art, and she’s showing us how to use journaling to explore possibilities, ideas, and daily life. My journal is becoming a place to record memories, to explore ideas and thoughts, and to hone my skills, all without pressure. A pretty ideal companion for an artist, and one that makes what could otherwise be humdrum hours and days full of interest.

Here are some of the pages I’ve done in the past few days:

Despite being sick, I also got a bunch of paintings together for two exhibits that both opened last Saturday. One is at White Birch Fine Art Gallery in NH and is an exhibit of just ACEO’s (Artist Cards, Editions and Originals. ACEO’s are little paintings that are always 2.3 by 3.5 inches and can be any medium.

I painted some as ACEO’s and others I cut from larger paintings. I loved doing these and hope to do many more. I’ve always tended to paint small, and it’s thrilling for me to find there’s a place for small art works. These are the ACEO’s I sent in:

I also have two paintings and a pen & ink drawing in the Holiday Boutique at Duck Pond Gallery. I didn’t think I’d be able to get them there, but a friend drove an hour each way to pick them up and deliver them for me. Thank you! I’m excited about exhibiting in this gallery because I’m also going to have my first solo exhibition there sometime in 2011.

It’s very encouraging to me to have these paintings in exhibitions and has certainly lifted my spirits while I haven’t been feeling well. It also gets me thinking and planning for more paintings that I want to do. One of the things I love about painting is the freedom to do what I want with it. I can dream and pursue my dreams. If they work out the way I like, that’s great. If not, it’s just paper.

A side benefit of this flu has been the ways I’ve been reminded of how many people really care about me. People have written encouraging notes, prayed for me, offered to help in many ways, called to cheer me up and make me laugh, brought me soup (delicious soup!), and generally been wonderful. Stephen has been great; driving me to the doctor, making tea, keeping a cheerful, crackling fire going in the fireplace, and so much more. I truly am blessed with wonderful friends and family.

I’ve had plenty of quiet time to reflect in the past two weeks, and I have to say, I love my life as a wife, mother, friend, dog trainer, writer, and artist. There is nothing I would rather be doing than living the life I now live.

“The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.” Psalm 16:6

My eyes feast on the bright colors of Fall, and I like to get out and paint them as often as possible. In winter I often meander through my fall paintings, remembering the day and the feeling when I did each, bringing back the fresh outlook and exuberant energy of this season.

Jennifer and I went to Vermont a couple of weeks ago and painted the gorgeous colors in the mountains and the freshly snowed upon peaks. In fact, when we first set out to paint and sat down in a dirt road, the mountains were clothed in fall colors. Within minutes we watched snow start to fall on the more distant peaks, and as we painted, the snow line moved closer. Finally it snowed and then sleeted on us, at which point we gathered our paints and headed for a coffee shop for hot drinks and warm bowls of soup.

That afternoon, in the warmth of our room, I painted another version of the morning’s view, using my morning painting as a reference.

In the evening I painted the view from our hotel room– silhouetted trees and mountains and dark reflections in a small pond.

The next morning we headed out to paint again, and since the temperature was in the low 30’s and it was windy, we painted from the relative warmth of the car.

We wrapped up our painting time by giving ourselves ten minutes to paint the same view.

Back in New York, I took Milo out tracking on a rainy Sunday afternoon, and while the track was aging, I painted the view across the parking lot from the car.

Most of the leaves are down now, but the maple by our stream still has its leaves, and in this afternoon’s sun, the color is stunning. Steve and I set up lawn chairs outside, and he read to me and we chatted while I painted the tree. It reminded me a bit of the Fall of 1981 when we were first dating and spent delightful hours outside walking and enjoying the crisp air and colors of Ithaca. A bit of Autumn color and memory to nourish my soul in the winter months ahead.

There’s something magical about being outside at night, and I often step out for a minute or two before I head to bed. One of the things I love about the shorter days of winter is walking in the dark, either in the morning or evening. I feel hidden, and since I walk without a flashlight, I can see without being seen if there are other people out and about.

I also love the night sky and could gaze for hours. Trees silhouetted against the brightness of the moon or the depth of a dark sky; moonlight casting strong shadows at times or bathing all in a soft glow at other times. Constellations telling a story for all to see.

When the moon is full I think about how people all around the world are stopping to look, ponder, and marvel. As I gaze, I’m filled with wonder at God’s creation and I feel a connection with people who have paused to appreciate it throughout time.

Last weekend I was in Colorado for a dog trainers’ seminar— a fabulous time of listening, watching, thinking, processing and networking. I can already see differences in how I handle client dogs and what kind of response I get from them. An excellent seminar!

Here are some of my “notes” from the demos:

Being in a group of people, no matter how nice they are and how fun the time, always wears me out, and painting is a wonderful stress reducer for me. In the evenings and after the seminar was over I spent time painting, sometimes in my room and sometimes outside looking at the gorgeous Rocky Mountains in the distance. I love the colors of Colorado and am eager to go back and spend more time absorbing the beauty and painting it as best I can to bring home memories in my sketchbook.

I’ve been doing plein air watercolor sketches recently; the weather is perfect for being outside, and I love to have a visual record of the sights and colors. Often, looking at my sketches takes me right back to the time I painted them, reminding me of dinner on the river with Stephen, or a pleasant stop along the Taconic Parkway, or a day painting by a pond with a friend.

Here are a couple of sketches of a pond in Goffstown, New Hampshire. A friend and I spent much of last Wednesday painting there, chatting with each other and with the boaters who came and went.

On my way home from New Hampshire, I stopped at a parking area on the Taconic Parkway where there’s a view of the Catskills. It was a clear day and the mountains stood out wonderfully in the distance.

Stephen and I like to eat at Mariner’s on the Hudson, where we sit on the dock and look out over the Hudson River. I paint the view or Steve tosses bread to the ducks, Canada Geese, and huge carp so that I can paint them. A couple of weeks ago we saw an eel there for the first time. It was about a foot long, and it kept swimming into the carps’ mouths so that it’s first four or five inches were all the way inside the carps’ mouths. That was kind of weird to watch.

Bituminous nestles in my lap, furry head in the crook of my elbow, his green eyes gazing unblinkingly at me for a minute or two, then closing in trusting sleep. I gaze back, trying to absorb a lifetime’s worth of the joy and love I receive from Bituminous, and attempting not to dwell on his increasing age and poor health.

I don’t really know how to describe what this cat does for me, but somehow he calms me deep inside, reminds me of some of the basics of my faith (trust lived out in practical, real-life actions), and fills me with a warm, happy feeling.

I try to read my book, normally gripping and hard to set aside, but when Bituminous opens his eyes every few minutes I have to put the book aside and look in my cat’s eyes. He’s deaf and doesn’t understand much English; I’m human and don’t speak Cat, but we both speak the language of connection, and whenever those eyes open, we engage in rich communion.