I gaze up at Mars and Venus in the dim sky of early dawn, red guardian of the night and bright herald of the coming day, steadfast in their stately dance through the heavens. Far closer to earth, three bats catch my eye as they swoop and circle, sometimes together, sometimes singly, in constant motion, choreography in the air. A fourth joins the dance, their flight like fleeting lines of calligraphy tracing the sky along lines only they can see. Then, suddenly all four vanish, as if at some secret signal. Perhaps the sun, still 20 minutes from rising, has lightened the sky just enough to announce bat bedtime?
Just as I turn to go inside, a single bat streaks from the silhouetted trees to fly in joyous loops and circles, up and down, around and about, seeming for all the world like a preschooler who’s escaped his bedroom for one last gleeful playtime before being put to bed. Or perhaps a young teenager daring to stay out past curfew just long enough to see if he can, to see what really happens when day begins and bats must say goodnight. Laughing, I watch his youthful antics as a Wren began to sing. After just a minute, having tasted the dawn, he, too, vanishes, the sky now the realm of birds. I look up again; Mars and Venus still dance, their movement nearly imperceptible, their course sure through ages past and ages yet to come.
Stephen reads to me nearly every evening; this has been part of our end-of-day routine for years now. We’ve probably read through over a hundred books by now, the majority fantasy or science fiction, with a smattering of classics and a few other genres. I really look forward to the time to connect, to unwind after the fullness of each day, and to enjoy a good book together. I often sketch while Steve reads, sometimes making cards or sketching the view out the window, but more often than not sketching him as he reads. Here’s a selection of sketches from the past year or two. These are all done without preliminary predrawing; sometimes I have a hard time with proportions, but I’m getting to the point I think I could sketch him from memory. 🙂
Sketched using a very old set of childrens watercolors– rather odd colors, but fun to play withReading lying down when his back was hurting
It’s been over two months since I posted, and I am planning to start posting art and musings somewhat more regularly. I have recently decided to step back from most of Facebook, which is giving me more time (it’s so easy to lose vast amounts of time browsing through friends’ news feeds and reading comments), and, more importantly, is freeing up more mental energy. I am still posting some artwork and photos on Facebook, but I am reading very little there and am enjoying greater peace of mind and more time to read and to make art, whether painting or sketching.
We came home from Maine near the end of June, and since then I’ve been taking time off from my dog training business to get settled back in after three months away, but mostly to recover from many months of stress that started with my parents’ health issues back in the fall, included some health issues for Stephen and me, then the twins’ premature birth and our temporary and sudden move to Maine, then my father’s illness and death. And then I wiped out on my bicycle and cracked a few ribs a week before we returned home from Maine. I was ready for a break!
During this time I’ve been trying to establish a better rhythm for my days, and toward that end I’ve been reading some helpful books, as well doing much pondering as I walk the dogs and some journaling most mornings. One book which I’m very much appreciating right now is The Pressure’s Off, by Larry Crabb, who has long been a favorite author of mine. I’ve only read the first few chapters, but he emphasizes the absolute importance of desiring intimacy with God over the blessings we would like to have in this life. He says that as long as we believe that if we live a certain way doing the “right” things we are likely to have the life we want (health, comfortable home, children who are doing well, etc), we will be under tremendous pressure to “get it right.” But if our greatest desire is to draw close to God no matter how things are going in our life, the pressure is off, because we aren’t focused on outcomes that we can’t really control anyway, and we can be satisfied at the deepest level of our being that nothing but God can truly satisfy, since we were created for connection with him.
I’m also reading Sacred Rhythms, by Ruth Haley Barton, another favorite author of mine. I’m only in the third chapter, but she starts right out talking about longing for God, about reading Scripture in a way that draws me into the story and then makes the story of Scripture a part of my life, and about solitude– how I love that word as an invitation to my soul to step out from under the pressure of daily life and expectations!
Just yesterday I started reading Cloister Walk, by Kathleen Norris, which I expect will stir in me a desire for a Benedictine-like rhythm to my days, which will help maintain my focus and dependence on God. I have previously read on and pondered Benedictine spirituality and always found it helpful, but it’s hard to stay on track without some sort of accountability (which is built into Benedictine life). Both Larry Crabb and Ruth Haley Barton talk about the need for spiritual friendships that provide ongoing encouragement and discernment, which brings me to another book I’m reading and discussing with a close friend: Crafting a Rule of Life, by Stephen Macchia. I’ve found it a bit tedious at times, but useful for helping me sort through various aspects of my life, interests, passions, goals, and responsibilities, and I think discussing it with a friend will help with both discernment and mutual encouragement. That seems especially important during this time of somewhat limited interaction with others due to Covid-19.
As usual, I am reading a mini-library, rather than just one book, and the one I’ve mentioned are just a few of my current books. I’m also reading a fascinating, fabulously well-written, informative book called Ice: The Nature, the History, and the Uses of an Astonishing Substance, by Marian Gosnell; A Spark of Light by Jodi Picoult (just started this, but think it will be hard to put down); Letters to the Church, by Francis Chan (which I think will tie in well with the books on spiritual focus); and A Grief Observed, by C.S. Lewis; as well as a couple of art books about painting landscapes; and Dog Songs, a book of beautifully illustrated and insightful poems by Mary Oliver, one of my favorite contemporary poets. In addition to all of these books, I am reading through the book of Psalms over and over (about once a month) and Stephen and I are reading aloud through the Old Testament a page or so at a time. And he and I have also been reading through Orson Scott Card’s many science fiction books, which are very engaging I’m planning on picking up The President’s Club: Inside the World’s Most Exclusive Fraternity, by Nancy Gibbs and Michael Duffy sometime in the next week or so, as someone recently recommended it.
Well, I wasn’t originally planning this to be a post primarily about books, but that seems to be where my thoughts have gone. I do find that reading slows me down from the overly fast and pressured pace of life dictated by modern technology and issues and often helps to establish some rhythm to my days. It also gives my wonderful cat Acadia time to snuggle on my lap, where she makes sure I don’t get too deeply absorbed in whatever I’m reading. If you have any recommendations for me, please feel free to mention them in a comment. I have a long, long list of recommended books, but I’m always happy to add to it.
Acadia snuggling while I readAcadia telling me to stop reading and pay attention to her
Papa and I had a wonderful lunch together in 2017 at The Modern restaurant at the Museum of Modern Art– a fabulous day!
This has been a deeply sad week for me. My father died last Monday, Memorial Day, which seems fitting for a veteran. We had some very good times, and I am overflowing with wonderful memories, both from my childhood and from more recent years. Sadly, though, we also had times throughout my life when there was tension between us. The last two years were not good for us, though thankfully in his final weeks I felt that we had some renewed connection. It still does not seem possible that he is no longer here; I was so hoping for more time to reconnect, to hear his stories, to show him my sketchbooks, to sit with him watching the birds and chipmunks he so enjoyed.
I was thinking during the weeks of my father’s recent decline about how all people are both broken and beautiful; broken by others or by their own choices, beautiful because all people are created in the image of God and bear something of that image, no matter how broken they may be. That was very true of my father; he had significant brokenness that, along with my own brokenness, strained our relationship, but he was also an extraordinary person with many talents, who was people-oriented and generous. I am thankful for many of the interests and abilities that I carry on from my father and, going forward, I hope to pursue them in his honor and to God’s glory.
Here is what I wrote to be shared at his funeral:
I’ve often been told I look like my father. I don’t know if I do or not, but I know I am like him in many ways, and Papa is a big part of who I am. I owe much of my love of nature and appreciation for and beauty to Papa. I still picture walking with him in Butler Sanctuary, admiring a long black snake draped across the rocks on Blacksnake Hill; finding morels on a steep, rocky slope; picking bayberries to make bayberry candles. One day when he and I walked in our own woods, an enticing scent suddenly caught my attention, and I turned to see oyster mushrooms climbing a dead tree. FIVE POUNDS of oyster mushrooms, as Papa often told me with delight and obvious pride in me for finding them. I think of that day with Papa every time I see oyster mushrooms.
I remember the day not so many years ago when Papa took me to an exhibit of Van Gogh drawings and paintings. We went through the entire exhibit together, quietly discussing many of the pieces, then decided to go through separately to each study our favorites. I focused on a number of drawings and a few paintings; Papa just sat in front of his favorite, a large, colorful painting, silently observing it, deeply appreciating the opportunity to simply enjoy it. I so admire his ability to sit quietly, whether observing a painting; watching a hummingbird hovering in front of him; or taming the chipmunks that gamboled by his feet, on his hands, even in his shirt pockets.
Papa, like most of us, was a complex person with a blend of strengths and weaknesses and, sadly, he and I had a frequently strained relationship. He didn’t always show an overabundance of sensitivity to others’ emotions, but one occasion will always stay with me. I’d heard at the bus stop that a black and white cat had been hit by a car a ways up Chestnut Ridge Road. As soon as I got home I told Papa, and he immediately drove me up there. I had been wondering if it was our semi-feral Bilateral Symmetry, but when we drove past on the other side of the road, I stiffened as I saw a long-haired cat lying beside the road—Dis? Papa turned the car around and stopped by the cat. It was indeed my beloved Dis. We drove home, me in tears with Dis on my lap, then Papa dug a grave in a beautiful spot in the woods by the rhododendron-covered pathway. Papa took Dis’s body, laid her gently in the grave, covered her with dirt. He spoke with me some about death; I don’t remember specifics, but I have always remembered with gratitude what he said right afterwards—that he had buried Dis facing east with her head uphill.
Papa, I trust that on the last day you will rise up, facing east and rejoicing to see Christ come to take us home. I love you always and will be looking for you then.
Papa watching the birds and chipmunks- something I loved doing with himPapa singing “Amazing Grace” with my mother and siblings two days before his death (I was “there” via Zoom)The last card I painted for Papa
As the days warm up (at least for this week, who knows what next week will bring), more people and dogs are out enjoying the fresh air, sunshine, and quarantine-quiet roads. And I continue to enjoy watching and sketching many now familiar figures, as well as new ones.
Today was my weekly Quiet Day– a sabbath-like day I take most Saturdays to read, pray, and generally rejuvenate myself, as I relish God’s gift of rest and refreshment in a time of solitude and silence. And of course sketching is a part of that. Somehow when I pick up sketchbook and pen, I almost invariably find myself praying for at least some of time I’m sketching, sometimes in words of praise and worship, sometimes in prayer for others, and often just in quiet communion with God– prayer without words.
Some of my sketches “turn out,” others barely look like people, but all help me to see the dozens of people who go by as individuals, each unique in some way or another, each bearing the image of God in their being. For me, this season of Covid seems to be a time of focusing on people, whether my son and his family whom I’m here to help; or our other children and grandchildren in Texas, dealing with homeschooling all of a sudden, and North Carolina, adjusting to a new baby; or neighbors walking by, some of whom I meet as I walk my dogs; or my family at home in New York caring for my aged and ailing father; or the many people I know who are ill or at-risk or lonely because of Covid. Sketching my neighbors walking by is a daily reminder to consider all these people, those whom I know and those whom I have not yet met, and bring them before our loving God in prayer.
Here are a few recent photos of our sweet Petra. She’s doing wonderfully for her age; she sleeps more, is mostly deaf, and is a bit arthritic, but she still walks a few miles with me most days and runs and plays and keeps Ramble in line. After nearly losing Petra a couple of times due to illness or injury, we are grateful for every day we have with her and we’re hoping to have plenty more days, months, and even years with her.
I’ve been in Maine for a couple of months helping take care of our young granddaughter while our preemie twin grandsons are in the NICU. In these days of Covid quarantine and distancing, there are few cars and many pedestrians in the neighborhood where I’m staying in a rental house. Since I’m babysitting weekdays, I’m not usually able to get into a painting frame of mind., but I often start my day sipping tea on the porch and sketching people as they walk their dogs, jog, meander by, or work in their yards. Here are a few of my front porch sketches.
Here in Maine sunrise is early this time of year– 5:25 am today. I am grateful that, thanks to the predawn shenanigans of my playful cat, Acadia, I was up early enough this morning to see a spectacular sunrise. These are some words that came to me as I watched the day awakening, while awaiting updates about my father who is in the hospital with possible Covid-19:
I know not what today may bring
of joy or grief, of life or loss,
but this I know and rest my hope upon–
that surely as the sun did rise,
Christ my Lord is risen too,
defeating death, restoring life,
the Son of God, the light of all!
Here is a sampling of my sketches from both of our safaris in South Africa and from Zimbabwe and Botswana. Most of these sketches were done in less than a minute, as very few of the animals would stand still for long, if at all. Some are composite sketches of various animals seen in one location at one time, and some are stop and start sketches done of a given animal as it would move and then return briefly to a previous posture, so I could add a bit more to a sketch I had started. I LOVED all the time sketching and am missing the opportunity to view and sketch so much amazing and intriguing wildlife. The sketches with watercolor were started in pencil or pen while on the game drive, with watercolor added later.
Stanley, our tracker, sitting in his seat on the front of the Safari vehicleVictoria Falls watercolor sketchRhino field sketch, watercolor addedElephant field sketches -Kambaku Safari LodgeBuffalo field sketchesLioness eating warthog head field sketchLioness carrying warthog head field sketchI sketched this Burchell’s Starling as it hopped around near me in campElephant field sketch in water-soluble inkLounging lion pride field sketchImpala field sketchYoung male lion sketch, watercolor & inkMopane tree field sketchCheetah, Waterbuck, & Saddle-billed Stork field sketchSleepy lion cubs field sketchTimbavati Nature Reserve field sketchesChobe National Park field sketchesChobe National Park field sketchesWarthog field sketchesBird ID field sketches- Magpie Shrike & Southern Black Flycatcher
After our two safaris, we went to Zimbabwe, where we went on a sunset cruise on the Zambezi River, a canoe trip on the Zambezi River, and a day trip to Chobe National Park in Botswana. Oh, and of course we saw Victoria Falls!!! That was a decades-long dream of mine that I never expected would become reality. Actually the whole trip was a life-long dream that I never thought would become reality.
Both the sunset cruise and the canoe trip afforded us many glimpses of wildlife, including our first crocodile sightings, as well as many new bird species. Our guides were wonderful at identifying birds for us, which was good, since I was completely overwhelmed by how new they all were and how many there were.
The canoe trip was really fun and a bit intense. At the outset our guide, Innocent, warned us about the dangers of hippos (they sometimes charge and capsize canoes) and crocodiles (they occasionally bite the inflatable canoes). Thankfully the canoes have five sections, so if a croc bites them, they can still stay afloat. Innocent told us that if a hippo capsized the canoe, we should swim for shore as fast as possible, since the hippo would most likely attack the canoe, since it is larger than a person. Then someone asked about if a crocodile would grab us on the way to shore. Innocent replied that, “If a hippo capsizes the canoe, and then a crocodile grabs you on your way to shore… you’re having a very bad day!” As it happened, we saw five pods of hippos, and at one point there was a pod on our right and another on our left, and right then a large male started charging us from the left. Innocent paddled the canoe he and I were in very fast (he had told me I didn’t need to paddle, so I could sketch), and the other canoes followed. Right after than a large crocodile jumped off the shore toward us, and Innocent started whacking his paddle on the water very hard to scare it away!
When I got my first glimpse of Victoria Falls I was awe-struck. Even though it was the dry season and the water level was much lower than it apparently is during the rainy season, it was amazing to see the volume of water, the height of the falls, and the magnificent rainbow arcing across the gorge. I could have stood and stared at it for hours.
The day after we saw Victoria Falls we went to Chobe National Park in Botswana, where the abundance of wildlife and the open terrain meant that we had constant wildlife sightings, which meant that I was sketching almost constantly all day long. The huge herds of elephants and buffalo were amazing, but what really caught my attention were the numbers and varieties of birds, including many new bird species for Stephen and me.
