the cherry tree

i feel better when i’m thinking of words.

i feel better when i don’t social media.

i feel better in front of the fire pit as long as the smoke is blowing away from me.

The cherry tree didn’t blossom for the first time in the ten years we’ve been living here.  Usually there is one weekend where the flowers rain down in a perpetual delicate sprinkle.  Cars drive by and they woosh to the sides, caught in the lip of the sidewalk.  Then small children walking by or new lovers coming home can scoop up giant handfuls of blooms and throw them over one another.  The flowers are so light yet so dense, it’s like being in a sweet-smelling warm flurry of magical romance.  It at once carries you away.

the end of me

I need to talk about the salary

what will that mean and

look like

how much do i push

can you take me fucking seriously

did you say that seriously?

was that just to appease me?

what the fuck?

going along the road,

managing and 4 wheeling

and hitting the potholes 

and the ice heaves and then bam!

the engine falls out!  scrapes

the bottom of the vehicle

bursts into flames 

and 

explodes!

and i am FINISHED.

finding my way

i felt myself falling

and didn't try to stop

down the ten steps

to the cement floor below

i knew it would have been worse

if i tried to stop

so i went with it

followed through

went with the energy

like i learned in aikido years ago

and i didn’t really hurt 

anything

really

i scraped my arm and

neck

hit my head

but i was ok

and stood up

and i stood up at work

the next day 

for myself

without a doubt in my soul

over a battle i’ve fought for years

and my boss 

without hesitation

changed things for my better

in a snap.

the orange crocus.

The orange crocus sat in the sun at the end of winter in southern Maine.  It had come to bud early with the mild days and two thirds less snow than the previous year.  The crocus was small, just an inch and a half high, but it was magnificent.  Flame orange bulb with flecks of pure yellow punctuated by two lime green cradle leaves.  New growth.  New.  Growth.  And then a nor’easter blew in 7” of snow and the temperature dipped to 27 degrees.  The crocus died.  Two days later the mercury rose back to 55 and all the snow was gone again and the flower had flattened with it’s leaves out.  Like it was getting ready to raise it’s arms in hallelujah but got run over instead.  

Coming out of winter that year was like that.  Like singing hallelujah in a beautiful church and having a bomb dropped on you.  There was no escaping the decimation and the brutality of it if you were there to live through it.  It changed you.  Moved your insides around.

punch out early.

i pick up my daughter at a great painter’s house

her house barely contains her

art joying from the walls chairs lamps everywhere she is

tall slender with no effort clean bright

her work enormous to capture the light, her daughter

i am aware of the time the painter is not at a job

the painter is a painter

not punching a time clock and collecting a weekly paycheck

i am asked no questions

my daughter and i leave

i am not a painter

the audacity.

composed during lunch

sour cream & onion

sour cream & onion

sour cream & onion

potato chips!

giant walrus hits saco!

girl scout troop 1940 paper dolls

mondaysssszzzzzz

doc.

doc passes away this year.  

he was my camp neighbor, friend and let me tag along on any of his PMO's (peter mason ordeals).  I loved him.  I am now 47.

during a guided meditation i did in my 20's , of which I was highly (EXTREMELY) skeptical of, we had to close our eyes and the speaker said to imagine a place of great calm.  I imagined the beach.  she then said, "you will now see a holy person, someone who you look up to." i am guffawing this whole process. what a crock!  but i follow & imagine I see an old man in long robes w gray hair walking the beach.  but he turns around and he is actually doc in his jeans and green flannel shirt.  ( now I am blown away....this could possibly be "working"????) The speaker say s that this person will give me a piece of cloth, something I can have to feel safe.  something special, a silk or beautiful cloth to wrap myself in.  the amazing, amazing thing is doc turns to me and hands me a life preserver.

woh, man.

now i'm a believer.

my great grandmother

spiraling out

 project to work on on a very snowy day....le braided rug....(cuzamano supervising).

 mid-day.  kid and cat each apt to pounce on me whenever they want.  slight craziness/cabin fever/repetitive motion daze...

late afternoon.  7 hours of hand stitching.  left thumb looks like its been used as pin cushion.  doesn't look like i've gotten any further!?!?**? 

mike :)

he is so cute in real life, the painting, eh......keep working.

bucket list....take encaustic class at MeCA

i have wanted to do encaustic for years, possibly decades.  when it was offered recently downtown, everything slid into place....amelie would be with her dad, it was a saturday/sunday class and my work said they would pay for half.  yes!

this is Kim Bernard who was our teacher.  she removed any difficulty from learning and was totally chill.  please check out her work too!

the studio was on the top floor of the porteous building.  this looks empty, I know, I barely took any pics when class was going on, but scrambled some in at the end of sunday. 

we did painting w wax and transfers with copies and em wedding things into the surface.  working 9-5/with others in a class was really a great way to focus and clear crap out ta my head.  plus I had all these things I produced!

this one above of the girl with the hair knobs on her head is amelie, my muse.  :)

51 tyng street, portland

this white house was the home of my first apartment in portland in 1990.  (just writing that date out feels ancient. ). i only live a couple blocks from there now & i was out looking for scenes to paint....& it came together nicely.....there was an empty lot across the street to set up, barely anyone around & it was amazing weather.

but my god this was frustrating.  it was challenging to make the house small enough on the board to be able to see the surroundings.  and proportion.... ho-lee!  colors, brushes, speed, agility...

oh my, this learning to paint is going to take lots and lots and lots of practice.