Archive for January, 2005

Poem No. 2

Monday, January 31st, 2005
  

Posting the Letter

The postscript is hastily scrawled across the bottom of the page.
A slap-dash sealing of the envelope.
She scurries to find the extra stamp.
(Just in case. Just In case.)
Two days have passed already.
There will be no allowance for yet another “letter, never sent”.
She tosses some papers aside, then recalls the exact location -Ah ha!

A dash to get the lead, and the dog jumps in high circles with joy.
No need to convince him to pick up the pace.
Before dark! Before dark!

They make their way up the hill.
A good release of energy.
A building up of good excitement.
This symbolic first letter.
Many more. Many more.
No longer a lost art.
Keep this tradition alive.

Success.
Posted.
Posted!
One down.
The rest is history.

The night -the night is closing around them-
At the clearing with long golden grass
She relents and lets the dog sniff around as he pleases.
Casts her gaze over the quiet hills.
House lights intermittently dot the landscape and
The dark brown horse meanders up to the barn.

There is no brilliant setting of sun this night.
Hot and hazy, a peachy drift of cloud clings to the blue grey hills.
The red and gold leaf litter that softens her footfall reminds her of Autumn.
Not yet. Not yet.
The cicadas are not loud enough.

The silvery Eucalyptus seems reflective, as the shadows deepen.
The crunch of the gravel on the drive
Beneath her slowing steps.
She is listening.
Listening to the possums playing in the trees.
To the horses breaking off the long dry grass in large mouthfuls.

Through the pines. The last of the warm sunlight,
Peeking between the silhouettes of these trees
Grown tall. Tall and thin, like giant matchsticks,
Climbing up the steep hill.
The house greets them with a pleasant, inviting glow.

A dash to the backyard, to take the washing down.
It is still and peaceful and dark.
The neighbour’s dog trots over to them, happily.
She detects unfamiliar growling coos.
Her eyes widen with wonder.
There they sit on the branch,
So close! Oh, So close!
Two owls, sharing a good conversation.
Do they know there is a spy?
For the dogs in the yard are unusually silent.

QUACK! Quack!
The silence broken by the playful family of ducks.
She laughs out loud.
A great splashing on the pond. The owls take flight.
Mother duck chides the three young ones who chase
Each other back and forth across the water.
As the dogs begin their barking,
The five birds on the pond make their way to safety.

Quiet once more. She gathers up the sweet smelling clothes.
A heavy sigh of content.
To be aware is so important.
Do people know this?
She coaxes the dogs inside for supper.
Come along, come along.
A prayer of Thanksgiving
Before a late night summer meal.

-A.L. Miller
January 31, 2005

Inspired by Janine

Sunday, January 30th, 2005
  

My friend, Janine, has started up something on her blog called “Poem Thursday” where she, and people who visit her site, post a favorite poem. She posted one last week, by Ted Genoways that I love, because it talks about winter; a favorite season, hence a favorite subject of mine in writing.

And this week, I decided to go looking for a poem by Jane Kenyon, for this very reason. My mother introduced me to her poetry several years ago, by giving me the book,“Let Evening Come” as a gift, and the inscription from my mother told me that she bought it because she thought of me when reading the beautiful poems about nature, especially winter scenes.
Since I’ve let my Mom borrow my two Jane Kenyon collections (The other is “The Boat of Quiet Hours”) till I’m back home, I went searching online for my poem this week. It’s not a winter one, but it resonated very much with me today!:

Killing the Plants

That year I discovered the virtues
of plants as companions: they don’t
argue, they don’t ask for much,
they don’t stay out until 3:00 A.M., then
lie to you about where they’ve been….

I can’t summon the ambition
to repot this grape ivy, or this sad
old cactus, or even to move them out
onto the porch for the summer,
where their lives would certainly
improve. I give them
a grudging dash of water that’s all
they get. I wonder if they suspect
that like Hamlet I rehearse murder
all hours of the day and night,
considering the town dump
and compost pile as possible graves….

The truth is that if I permit them
to live, they will go on giving
alms to the poor: sweet air, miraculous
flowers, the example of persistence.

-Jane Kenyon

And, the beautiful winter poem that Janine posted last week:

Instructions for Winter
Eagle, Alaska

You must private away a secret summer,
cached and fed by darkness like sourdough
in a larder, so that each noon numbered
in lamplight is matched by a midnight, yellow

with the slant of June. Against such permafrost,
you must toughen yourself on carrion;
you must fatten on summer – berries and moss -
to carry you across the windswept barrens.

Live – but remember the reason, the source
and abyss where everything living dies.
And when flakes swirl into drifts, hold

summer close and let winter run its course.
Curl in your den, sleep; and when you arise,
shoulder forth lean and perfected by cold.

- Ted Genoways

Little Bunny Foo Foo

Sunday, January 30th, 2005
  

Came across these bunny sketches from this Spring, while cleaning a bit of my studio yesterday, and thought I’d like to share them. Animals ’round here move so fast, but I really want to draw more native wildlife, rather than the things I’ve drawn so far, such as cherry blossoms, peach leaves and rabbits. Rabbits do NOT belong here in Australia, no matter how cute they happen to be! Maybe I’ll start with native plants, and work up to drawing the skitter-ish animals!

I drew this page while making my porridge (oatmeal) one morning. Just grabbed the nearest pencil and paper, and actually got a few little gestures completed of the three baby rabbits making their rounds in the front of the house, where new shoots of tender grass were appearing.
I’ve yet to draw the birds taking a bath, which I’ve seen so many times; since by the time I grab my art supplies, the flighty birds have wised up and vanished.
I’m going to make a portable system of small sketchbook and pencil, to take with me on walks and sometimes for around the house and yard!

Enjoy these, and I’ll give you a rest from deep and meaningful essays..for today! Haa!:

I Remember This. (Part One)

Saturday, January 29th, 2005
  

Some stories that reveal why I know I had a blessed childhood.:

Summers spent in Dayton, Ohio; my Mother’s hometown.
I love the Bell family, what else can I say? We’re having a reunion this summer and you can bet I’m gonna be there! They tell corny jokes, show so much love, are loyal & giving, honor their past, and know that having a beer at a picnic and just talking the whole time, rather than doing lots of activites, is what’s important!

Just one of many highlights for me in Ohio, was making homemade ice cream at Uncle Mike’s house. Using a wonderful old fashioned ice cream maker, we cousins would take turns cranking it till our arms got sore, then there was the wait for the freezing process. But worth it! The vanilla was my favourite..ohhh..so good! Uncle Mike loved the chocolate. He told me recently how he hated when they moved and got rid of it. (Oh no!) But, there will always be the memory, and Mike, if you wanna have the experience again with the grandkids, I’m sure there’s one kickin’ around on eBay somewhere! YAY!

The Pennsylvania Gang.
Grandma Lehr had a swimming pool, and a black raspberry patch, and made crafts out of old soda bottles, styrofoam and pipe cleaners.
Visiting Grandma’s was wonderful in summer..even though the pool always felt like ice water, and you could bet there’d be a bee’s nest under the water slide. I will always remember nights spent there with cousins and my siblings, picking buckets of raspberries with Grandma, making holiday crafts with her, and hearing her & her sisters’ sing in their choral group, “The Sweet Adelines”.
In those days, the land was still farmland, which meant plenty of great sledding fun in winter. And sledding fiascos…it’s so not fun to have to trudge home in the middle of sledding in order to have a million briars picked off of you by your mother and grandmother. (I know you’re still laughing about that one, April and Kathy!)
Christmas and Easter times, the whole family gathered and it was nice to have the same traditions, year after year. And, just so you know, it’s not good to hide a plastic Easter egg in the tailpipe of a car.

The Neighbourhood.
Our hometown had a church that played hymns at 7 pm and it rang out from the main street of the little town, over the immediate suburban hills. After dinner I’d catch it, sitting on the small hill in the backyard. Lovely and peaceful.
I was a hammock kinda girl in summer. Lie back, look up through the green maple leaves, always a book by my side and maybe some apples & cheese, and a tall pastel ‘tupperware’ cup of water.

Julie’s dad had a jukebox. She had a simple white dress in the cardboard “dress up” box, many sizes too big, that we’d both scramble to get first, because it would swirl out in a beautiful poofy circle when we’d spin around to the music in our socks. Julie was the one who showed me what “robbers” wore. (Her dad was in the FBI) So, we pulled the pantyhose over our head, and looked at our funny spooky refections in the mirror of the dimly lit bathroom, and laughed.
Her mother was Jewish and her dad Christian, so she taught me about dreidels. I always thought how it was pretty cool that she had 8 days of gifts AND Christmas. Even though the Hanukkah gifts were simple and small, they were fun; and despite what you may think, something that appears to be a “little” gift to an adult, may be something very meaningful and special to a child.

I’d go over to Elin’s house sometimes. In her backyard, we’d pick cherries, and make “tea” by crushing mint leaves in water. She and Julie held an “art sale” one time and taped up their masterpieces on the outside of the garage door. They sold their pieces for a nickle each. So I bought a picture of a boy drinking lemonade through a red & white striped straw. My mother took one look at it and said, “I don’t know why you bought it! You could draw that yourself.” In one way, this was a good form of encouraging my artistic skills, but I also knew why I’d bought that piece: I would’ve never have thought to draw a boy drinking lemonade with a red & white striped staw..and I really liked it!

Jamie and Diane had pale blue ice skater’s costumes with little skirts. And a garage with a smooth floor and metal pole in the center: Can you say “daily rollerskating party”?!
Jamie was my best friend for a long time. I’d run to her house in bare feet every day. We played with dolls, built blanket tents on the clothesline, did daring “penny-drops” off the top of the swingset, and traded friendship pins. And they moved away one day, when I was about 9 or 10, and it feels a bit strange when you still see the house where your friend used to live, any time you go for a walk…and wonder if she still has memories of you.

When Jamie and Diane moved, I met a new Jamie, just about my age. She and her little brother, Tony, moved in, right next door, for a short time while their family was building a house in the area. So Jamie and I had great fun together; tape recording silly “radio shows”, playing with Barbies, building huge snow forts in the waist-high drifts we had that winter. We climbed trees and made “houses” in them, with baby blankets for curtains. She was going to spend the night at my house one night, but got a bit “homesick” even before it was very late. Of course I was very dissappointed, but walked her home, just the same.
I was invited to their new house on a few occassions, after they’d moved. The house was big, new, beautiful, light and ..just fantastic. But we spent most of our time in the field behind the house, where, if you walked down a small trail in the brushy growth, there were some ponies in her neighbour’s yard. I could tell this was her favourite thing about the new place and I was really happy for her. Those ponies were really nice to pet: so gentle and soft.

Behind my friend Alex’s house, there was an enormous willow tree. It was growing on a creek bed at the bottom of a hill, and had been there for ages, as our neighborhood had been a farm since the days of William Penn, up until the late 1960s. The barn is still there.
This willow is one of the most magical memories of childhood that I have. The branches swept across the ground in a wide, uniform circle around the thick trunk. We’d pull back the curtain of branches to reveal a pretty, secret enclosed space that hinted of the possiblities of faeries and bathed us in a pale green light. No better place in this world was created as a fort/playhouse/meeting spot! None.
The creek was also good place in which to wade and float popsicle stick boats.

Alex, however, was not always such a peaceful child. He’s the one who so got angry one time that he bit my (fake) Winnie-the-Pooh’s HARD 1970s PLASTIC nose in half. I am still as shocked by that memory today, as I was when I saw it happening before my own eyes.
I was simply too amazed by it to be very angry about it! But yes, I wasn’t too impressed! Poor ole’ bear.

And, so, that’s part one of my walk down memory lane.. I don’t know yet if I’ll continue it tomorrow, unless you’re dying to hear more right away… Haaa.
But I definitely want to continue it! And I like writing for this blog every day, so I’ll post something, if not that.

Today I will do a little gathering up of documents, sewing, cleaning of the kitchen, and reading! Maybe I will even write one letter.
Take Care everyone! Go make some sweet memories!
Ames

For the artists and art lovers:
Here’s an another illustration from 2000.:

I used a technique called “ink resist”, that gives the painting the look a woodblock print, which I love. I changed technique when a lot of my classmates started using it, but mainly because it can be quite unpredictable. Not good for short deadlines!
The process involves painting a good weight watercolour paper with gouache (A chalky sort of watercolour) and leaving any areas which you want to be black, unpainted. Let that dry completely, then paint over EVERYTHING with waterPROOF ink. (Water resistant won’t work) Let that dry completely, then rinse the whole piece under water and scrub (lightly and quickly) to reveal the stained colours and black lines. I found that using a bit of warm water at the very very start, and then very cold water, for only as long as needed, help to keep the paper from getting too saturated and/or torn. Experiment with colours and ways of doing it..to see what works for you. I must say it’s fun!