Superpowers

And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye.

      - Antoine de Saint-Exupery 

 Ninety-nine percent of who you are is invisible and untouchable.     - Richard Buckminster Fuller

It's happening more and more often.  There's nothing I can do to prevent it.  Sometimes it happens as I am standing in line at the bank or paying for groceries.  (It almost always happens at public events or in public spaces.)  At first I thought it was my imagination - just a trick of the mind; a mistake, perhaps a misunderstanding ? After all, things like this don't happen to ordinary people. 

Wait a minute... who's ordinary???

Funny how we see our selves, isn't it ?  I, myself, am a mass of contradictions!  I am funny but very serious - and not to be taken lightly.  I have a few very rigid viewpoints, but I nearly always give one the benefit of the doubt.  I like socializing and I am interested in people and curious about how others think - yet I spend a great deal of time alone, by choice.  I think of myself as a "good" person who looks for the best in others, and yet has little faith in humanity...  Normal ? ...I suppose... Sane ? ...certainly... But I've never thought of myself as ordinary.  So why should it surprise me that I have developed superpowers...???

Yep.  It's true.  

I know how to become invisible.

Actually - I first became invisible and then I learned how to do it.  The first time, I was sitting in traffic, waiting to pull onto the main road.  Vehicles moved past, sometimes stopping right in front of me, but no one let me merge. No one smiled and waved me in as had always happened in the past. They didn't notice me... they couldn't see me...!  I had disappeared.   The next time it was a shopping trip to Quality Foods.  As I stood waiting to pay for my groceries. the cashier and bagger conversed and joked and rang up my order.  I smiled at one, and then the other; I held out my check - but neither even looked at me.  Without my presence being acknowledged in any way, I found myself back in the parking lot with my cart full of heavy grocery bags.  I was invisible.

The most recent time I disappeared was at my bank branch, located for my convenience in the grocery store lobby.  There were two tellers at their stations but one was on the phone, so a line had formed sort of halfway between the two as customers observed "next person waiting etiquette".  When the teller finished her phone conversation, she looked right through me to the store employee behind me and motioned for him to step up for service.  Wow.  Invisible again!! 

With all this evidence, I have to believe it's true.  And just like the "ordinary" people on that show: Heroes, I plan to step up to the challenge. I will continue to develop and hone my ability to disappear by wearing inauspicious clothing, no makeup and a blank expression  I shall continue to masquerade as just another bland,  unimportant, unassuming, and innocuous middle aged woman.  Those who never look will never see the pretty young woman inside me - the one who is well-read and hip and witty - the one who rescues ladybugs and horses and even tries to dodge butterflies.  They won't know how funny I am, or how kind I can be, or how much love I hold inside.   

They won't suspect that I am anything at all like them.

And little will they know, that I am developing another superpower...  telepathic X-ray vision.  Though they cannot see me, I can see right through them.  As I peer into their self-absorbed and indifferent minds, I plant little seeds... little thoughts... little bits of self'-doubt and self-realization.  I will them to see beyond their biases and assumptions.  I implore them to take stock of themselves and to question their perception of the world around them.  I champion the cause of fresh vision.  

I wish upon them the gifts of empathy and sympathy - for one day they too, will start to disappear.


     ( I posted this seven years ago.  I re-post it shamelessly to let everyone know that though you may catch a glimpse of me know and then, I continue to disappear.)

Detail of "A Singular Path"  mixed media piece by the author of this blog.

 

Old Writings.

Several years back I was on one of the online dating sites.  Yes - even us artists occasionally go even more insane and think we can find true love - or true like - online.  It never worked out for me, but I did enjoy writing on the blog site of this particular dating site.  I wasn't alone.  Somehow a core of really good writers happened to come together there, and though I didn't match up in person, I found many friends I would love to have known through their writings.

Here's a little poem I posted back then:

I Seek

... a peer, a mate, a match
the One...
who'll know the wonder I've become.
a friend to see the best
in me...
and overlook the rest of me... to kiss
my neck and touch my soul, to love not parts -
but all, the whole - 
the sum of me who yearns for bliss
but all I find are words like this:

a rhyme...

and solitary time.

- Patrice Lynne Young   - around 2007 I think..

Mr. Cheddars does not care for my poetry...

  

April? Already?

So much is going on that I have once again lost track of time.  I don't function well internally when overly busy with other people's tasks externally, though I love being busy with my own....  I suppose that makes me self-involved, but most artists are, by necessity.  So this blog visit has multiple themes...

I took a walk up the hill a few days ago and took some photos of the large Red Bud trees scattered there.  I'm hoping to flag a few small ones when they leaf out (small Red Buds don't bloom) to transplant nearer the house.  Red Buds in or near my yard have had hard luck.  Two were crushed under fallen pines, and the three I've planted have struggled and then died.  I think I'm trying too hard.  After all, they seem to thrive in the most infertile places.

Afterward, I followed a very obvious and well traveled deer trail through the scrub pines and over to open land again.  The red clay really pops against last year's leaves and the bright green of the pine needles.

Check out the phantom image in the tree below.  I was quite taken aback - and still am - but figured out the tree's bark had been peeled by my horses as a winter snack sometime in the past couple of years.  Apparently my equine have artistic aspirations.  But then again, it could be some kind of message for giant rabbits to interpret.

A tree that merged with a rabbit?  A frog?  A tale could be spun to explain...

They really should be called Hot Pink Buds.

Deer trail - looks well traveled!

Large and small deer tracks in the quartz littered clay.

March Roars On

After several beautiful 70-ish days, the wind is gusting to 30mph and the temperature is set to drop 40 degrees by morning.  Weather!

But it's the very unpredictability of the weather, with its power to distract or detract us from our placidity as it shapes our lives, that I love so much.  Humans have thus far not managed to affect it on purpose, and that very fact cheers me.  I want (need) there to be an aspect of existence that is its own master.  For some reason, this gives me security.

So roar on, winds of March - take a mundane day or week or season and turn it all sideways.  Sideways was the direction of the day as all sorts of things went flying through the air!  I just hope the temp doesn't nip the just-beginning peach, plum and pear buds.

Pear tree just beginning to bloom next to the new Pergola.  Can't wait to be able to stain the treated lumber gray to match the house.

And here come the violets.  I've places that are carpeted with these, my favorites.

One of my two peach trees.  Also just beginning to bloom today.

And this little Spring beauty is Sinead - a recent adoptee.  Apparently she couldn't decide whether to be a red tabby or an agouti tabby, so she is both.  She won't hold still for pics and I so want one that will show the odd tabby "spot" on her left front leg.  I thought it was dirt for quite a while..

And it's official: Spring Blooms in Northeast Georgia

The lilies bloomed the day after I searched for signs.  It's been a few days now and the lilies (daffodils) are opening all over the yard.  Even the double daffodils are budding - though they rarely open all the way.  As I walked about in that too warm too soon kind of stupor (75 degrees!) I found a few more signs that Spring has arrived.

Daffodils are so dang cheerful!

  You can tell the doubles by their larger rounder shaped buds.  The long thin buds are jonquils.  I'll post more photos when these guys open up.

The Spring Peepers have been peeping up a storm for a couple of weeks, but yesterday and today the chorus cranked it up to a constant thrum.  With all that snow melted, my little pond is still running out the overflow pipe.  And though I wasn't able to get a photo, I heard a frog give a little croak and splash into the pond.  Just that one frog. I really wanted to get a look; I mean - what sort of tough snow-bird type of amphibian would jump into that cold, cold water?  Perhaps he's like those folks who jump into icy waters to see if they can get their hearts to stop. (Mine would.) Ummm... yeah, I know - they have some other reason for doing this but I cannot fathom what.

I found new growth on the old timely climbing roses and little buds on the Yellow Jasmine, too. Then I spent most of the day chopping back privet, honeysuckle and wild roses where they had completely overrun my azaleas and were working toward smothering the iris.  I felt rather guilty; being so happy to see new leaves and buds and all, and then hacking away at that same progress in the less welcome plants.  Here in the South - the jungle will out unless tamed from time to time.

Jasmine buds...  I love the splotches of red on the leaves and the pink/purplish stems.

Hope everyone gets an early Spring!

Searching for Signs

Just four days ago...  Snow!  Got to get that barn finished!

It was a beautiful day today in NE Georgia.  After a chilly start, the temperature rose into the 50's, and the sun was warm on my face as I puttered about the yard looking for signs of Spring.  Not much goin' on.  Mud in the sun and ice in that shady spots, but I knew there was at least one spot that was keeping my dream of Spring alive, so I headed for the edge of the woods down by the shop and there...

Today - Lillies!  Should be opening in the next day or two.  Amazing how fast things can change.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I found the faithful Lilllies shooting up and full of buds.  Last years leaves make a lovely contrast with the bright, bright green - almost blue-green of the leaves and stalks.  Or perhaps they are still a bit blue from being buried in snow!  A few more days like today, and buds will be forming everywhere.

Another Smaller Encounter

This must be my week for up-close and personal with members of other species.  This little episode began over a week ago, before the most recent winter storm and cold.  We'd been having unseasonably cold temps for about a week, when we got a one-day reprieve with temperatures in the high 50's.  I had to drive up into the mountains that day to work on a faux finish/mural project.

As I'm heading up the 4 mile climb, I hear an intermittent rustling that seems to be behind me.  One thing I cannot stand are rattles, mysterious sounds and "funny" noises in or from my vehicle/s.  Both my car and my van are at least ten years old, but there are no unidentifiable noises.  This was new.  After a bit, it ceased and by the time I made a stop for gas, I'd forgotten about it.

Several miles later, I pulled into the client's driveway, unloaded my materials and went to work.  When I came out to stow my gear for the ride home, I was surprised to see a butterfly fluttering in my window.  And then I knew what that sound had been.  Apparently the butterfly had somehow gotten into my car and been dormant due to the cold.  The warmth of that particular day had aroused it, and I guess it figured Spring was here.  Not so, little one.  In fact that night the temperature was set to drop dramatically.  I planned to find my little friend a place to shelter until the real Spring came along.

But when I arrived home, I couldn't find the little fellow.  I wasn't sure if it had escaped or just crawled into a hiding place of its own, but after searching for some time, I gave it up.

After nearly a week of bitter cold and paralyzing (ha ha) 2 inches of snow. I happened to open the rear door of my car and, sadly, my little butterfly friend fell out onto the ground.  Thinking it was dead, I placed it gently back in the car so as to examine it later at home.

That was two days ago while it was cold.  Yesterday it warmed up a bit, and today it was in the glorious 60's.  I opened my car door and what do you think?  The magical little butterfly was sunning itself on the car seat, fanning its wings.  Not dead. Hibernating.

Here's my little friend. I thought it was a Swallowtail, but no - according to my beautifully illustrated Walter Linsenmaier Insects of the World, it is a rare Javanese brush-footed butterfly.  How cool is that? My good friend Roy identified this fellow as a Mourning Cloak, and he is correct.  Seems my book had applied two species names to the same butterfly.  Pretty fellow, nonetheless.  He seemed to like the warmth of my hand. 

It's going to be warm for the next couple of days, and thinking that perhaps my car is not the best long term shelter, I placed him just inside my garden shed.  He can hide again or take off from there as he pleases.  The lesson is that if you find a butterfly and think it's dead, treat it gently.  You could be mistaken!

Cold white stuff falling from the sky!

I started a temp job this week working for UGA (University of Georgia) and had to leave early today on account of the University closed. It's a weather emergency! Yes, a rare snowfall here in GA has paralyzed the region.

Here at home it brought out the birds to feast up before the temp falls into the teens tonight.  Brrrr...  I got a few fun photos of the chaos at the feeders.

(That's my Asparagus Fern in the foreground - photo taken through window)

Normally Cardinals are crabby and territorial when it comes to sharing, so I was quite surprised to see two, three, - even five at once - on each feeder, chowing down on sunflower (and other) seeds and corn.  I threw extra seed on the ground in the few bare spots in my driveway for the less brazen of the birds.  These are mostly female Cardinals, Sparrows and Slate Juncos.

And this one might be my favorite:  The birds are aglow against the backdrop of trees and snow.

A Small Encounter

Driving home just before dusk I saw a small object ahead in my lane.  The shape was rather triangular, and not moving, and it could have been a leaf, or paper, or a clod of dirt.  Out of caution, I made sure my tires would miss as I passed over. I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw the object tumble in a certain way, and I thought: that might just be a bird.  I was on a curvy mountain road and it was nearly half a mile before I could turn around.  As I headed back, two vehicles passed me coming the other way, and now I was doubtful that if it was a bird, it would still be alive.  I saw it though, now sitting in a more recognizable-as-a-bird posture, and I turned around again to block the lane to other cars.  There.  I put on my flashers and scooped up the tiny thing.  It made no effort to get away but I also didn't see any blood.  I popped back into my car and headed off.

I pulled into a church parking lot to safely inspect the little bird and now I could see it was a female Goldfinch.  Aside from a few feathers sticking up on one wing she seemed only stunned, but birds go into shock so readily, and the temperature outside was frigid with gusting wind.  I decided to head on home hoping the warmth of my car would revive her.  She tried to fly a time or two without success, so I still felt she was injured more than she appeared. 

When I got home, I decided the best thing to do for her was to leave her in the warm (kinda hot, actually) car - away from my many kitties and to prevent stressing her any further with a change of hostel.  I put some seed and water on the floor with her and left her. 

Next morning she was perched on the back of one of the bucket seats.  Hurray!  She flew into the back window of my Subaru wagon, and kept fluttering there so I lifted the latch and she flew off into the big cedar tree near the shop.  Have a good life little bird.  Thanks for the happy ending.

The birds have it.

This is a dumpster diver's feeder that I made. The top is a circle of acrylic that used to be part of a Belk's store display. The metal basket is some kind of floral bouquet holder repainted and attached to a part from my microwave that used to be a timer/turntable. The now upside down turntable is attached with screws to a bit of scrap wood. The wood is mounted on a flange that is screwed onto a threaded pipe and the whole thing set into a larger pipe driven in the ground. It's two story - except when it rains, then the seed on the lower level stays dry. The birds seem to like it! Click on photos to enlarge. It's cold and windy today and I've refilled the feeders twice already.

I learned recently that at night, bunnies come to eat the corn and or seeds too.  Imagine my surprise when the newly installed motion sensitive light went off and three rabbits were eating and cavorting under the feeders!

And because no post should considered complete without a cat photo....

Here's the beautiful Gracie.  I absolutely love her Egyptian profile.

It was a very good year...

I found this fellow sleeping in the mulch pile:  He's a Marbled Salamander and apparently an Eastern U.S. resident -  I'd never seen one before, as the much more plentiful Chameleons and Five-lined Skinks are less shy. 

Marbled Salamander 3 1/2 - 5"

And very recently, on an extremely warm evening, this little guy was clinging to the glass on my storm door.  It's a Tree Frog - A "Barking" Tree Frog, I think.  These are the guys we refer to as Spring Peepers.  Just a bit early, that's all.  Sorry for the blur.  He was so tiny and it was dark, thus my camera wouldn't focus properly.

Love his little sucker toes.... 2 - 2 1/4" actual size

If I hadn't become an artist, I might have been an entomologist or a naturalist by profession.  If you've never read Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, find a copy.  That book made me feel "normal" in my fascination with the small, strange (to human perception) and mysterious creatures who are all around us - and yet often unseen.

My critter household has been both diminished and expanded.  I lost both of my old horses Lilly and Bogo, and adopted a rescue gelding whom I call Chester, for obvious reasons if you are of a certain age, and remember Gunsmoke with Marshall Dillon and Chester.   Apparently he suffered an untreated broken shoulder - a devastating injury - and I'm surprised he survived.  He walks by  criss-crossing his front legs, but he is able to trot, canter, and to lie down and get up! 

I also lost both of my Pyrenees within a few months of one another - one to gone cancer, and the other to old age.  When Colbert Veterinary Rescue  had an adult female Great Dane for adoption, I couldn't resist.  Now Stella at just over 100 #s is adjusting to life on the farm.

Stella - don't you just love her ears!!

Chester - doing his favorite thing: EATING!!!  He's a big boy - but not only had his shoulder gone untreated, he had also been starved.  He'll be allowed to put on some weight, but due to his injury I'll need to keep him from gaining too much.

Nest time: Emily the beach kitten...

Hope everyone has a wonderful Holiday and/or Christmas.  I'm heading home to Southern Illinois for a week.

Fear, faith and conscience ………Lately I have been thinking about good and evil - which leads to my thinking of those who have influenced my thoughts on same…. These vignettes may seem disconnected and for that I apologize….  I did warn of disjointed ramblings and overly analytical diatribes...


When people speak of childhood and how they were brought up I say that I was raised on guilt. It’s true. And my family wasn’t even Catholic. My mother raised six of us by instilling within each of us the persuasive power of a conscience. She couldn’t bring herself to spank or hit us, so when necessary, we were shamed into obedience. This was not due to any “enlightened” child-rearing philosophy (my parents’ child-rearing manual consisted of the Ten Commandments) but rather to a promise made to herself while still a young girl.

My grandfather ruled his wife and 3 daughters with a Bible and a bullwhip. If my mother or one of my aunts was disrespectful in any way, he would get out that whip and crack it through the air all the while berating the guilty party with scripture and commandments. Though my mother insists neither she nor her sisters were ever actually struck with it, she was terrified by the threat of that whip and of course, Hell. She never wanted her children to fear her or my father as she had feared her own. But despite being “spared the rod” my siblings and I turned out quite unspoiled……

My mother’s family is descended from Swedish Pietist immigrants who settled north of Chicago, naming their new home Zion (A place under God’s rule). Perhaps my grandfather was a product of his fanatical ancestors; perhaps he just had issues. But he took it upon himself to be a soldier - more of an MP - in God’s army. My mother loved him, regardless, appearing to justify his outrageous actions as “being strict.” My mother is now 88, in very good health and sharp as ever. She recently visited one of her sisters who shared with her some letters between her parents during WW I. The letters reveal my grandfather as a tyrant to his wife as well as his daughters. My mother didn’t disclose anything specific, but said that her mother must have had a very difficult life, much more so than she had ever realized.

I remember my grandmother as a tiny figure, hovering in the background. She stood less than 5 feet tall, quiet - with a nervous laugh and ready smile. I look a great deal like her and knew I had lost forever the chance to know her when she died of Parkinson’s – not even reaching her 60th birthday.  Meanwhile my ornery grandfather lived on to be 97, becoming more and more religiously fanatical. In later years he actually shunned my Aunt Cecilia for her “sinful ways” after visiting her home and finding dust on the cover of the coffee table edition of the Bible. According to him not reading the Bible daily was a terrible sin in itself – and those who sinned thusly were not to be consorted with…

My own parents were profoundly religious, maintaining a strong “quasi-Christian” ideology throughout the early years of my childhood. I say quasi-Christian, because I have never really known just what constituted the foundation of their beliefs. When I was three, my father accepted a position as pastor (?) Brother Young – of a church in California that, to my knowledge, was some obscure offshoot of the\church of Christian Science. This church did not believe in medical science. Everything was to be brought before God in prayer. His pastoring came to an abrupt end about two years later when my three year old brother Ronnie slipped into a coma. He had been ill with what seemed like a bad cold, and then suddenly he wouldn’t wake up. The church members gathered, my mother sobbed and I remember voices raised in prayer and anger. And then chaos. My little brother was taken away, the church members left and my mother was crying all the time.

My parents decided to go against church doctrine and take my little brother to the emergency room where he was diagnosed with spinal meningitis. He might die or be brain damaged even with hospitalization, but had he remained at home, he would surely have died. The church summarily dismissed my father and for the next few weeks while my brother slowly recovered, there was no money coming in. I can remember my mother tearfully pleading with the serviceman not to shut off our electricity to no avail. And then we were packing and moving – back to Illinois to stay with my Aunt Marie, the eldest of my father’s nine siblings, who had loaned the money to go.

There is a photograph of me with my two brothers taken on the journey through the Rocky Mountains. We are standing with our backs to a mountain pass, the old car precariously weighed down by the huge trailer we towed. We somehow made it through the mountains and through the desert – both literally and figuratively. Life improved for us; and my parents took my brothers survival as a sign of having obeyed God’s will. Their religious views were dramatically affected, though their faith was not diminished. My father never again accepted a position as pastor, though he sometimes preached as a guest in subsequent years. His was the “fire and brimstone” style – delivered with an escalating intensity calculated to first frighten and then uplift the congregation. He often sang solos – "In The Garden", "The Old Rugged Cross" and my favorite: "Jerusalem (Lift Up Your Gates and Sing)". These comfort me, even now in my disbelief.

I question everything. I don’t follow the religion of my parents, nor am I blessed with their unshakable faith. I say blessed, because I firmly believe that those who have unshakable faith in a hereafter are happier. And it is easier to follow rules and guidelines than to question and analyze everything searching for meaning… The Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule serve well, and I don’t advocate replacing them as guidelines for living. I absolutely believe in good and evil… the why of that is another blog. I am profoundly grateful to my parents for trying to do and be the best they could, and for instilling in me by whatever means, a conscientious mind.

More patterns of my life: silly cat photos

More pattern on pattern - soft gray tabby Madeline on faded florals

Tabby and white Molly on my living room rug... 

Patterns

Like many artists I am drawn to patterns in nature. I particularly love the regular and seemingly random spots, stripes and myriad combinations of the furred and feathered.  Appaloosa horses, tabby cats, black and white spotted Jacob Sheep, giraffe splotches, leopard spots and tiger stripes - all give me a frisson of pleasure.

While browsing a local thrift shop recently, I came upon a wonderful leopard faux fur vest.  The perfect gift for the kitties!  Sure enough, as soon as it was splayed on the couch, kitties claimed it one by one - with a few hissy quarrels over possession.  Generally though, possession rules even in the cat world and nearly every feline has had a turn mushing and posing on the best $2.00 cat accessory ever.

Pattern upon pattern - Garfy on The Vest

Snoochie if full mush mode. More pattern upon pattern.

I once had a harlequin Great Dane and I once had a brindle Great Dane, so when I thought of getting another dog to keep Freda company, I wanted another Dane.  Came up a bit short though, when I spotted Carrie up for adoption.  She's a year old brindle American Bull Terrier (not a pit type) weighing about 45 lbs. nearly the same size as Freda.  I figured it was meant to be as she purportedly got along with cats (very important), other dogs and liked everyone - even toddlers.  (Geez - I don't even like toddlers...)  And she would eat less than another giant dog which was better for my budget.

I met the owner, brought Carrie home and she and Freda hit it off immediately.  By the third evening she was deathly ill.  What started as a bit of coughing the second night became obvious difficulty breathing and a temp of 106.2!  I'd just gotten home from work and saw her trembling and with her eyes all squinted up like she was in pain.  I rushed her to the Vet Saturday night where she was given fluids and meds I.V.  Several tests were done - none conclusive at that point.  I was able to pick her up on Sunday with a tentative diagnosis of pneumonia and oral antibiotics but she went downhill again and had to go back in on Monday for more intravenous treatments - and they kept her for 24 hours before sending her home with I.V.'s and three antibiotics!  (I was once a vet tech so I know how to give I.V. meds and shots.)

I was puzzled when the Vet asked me to find out whether anyone in the previous owner's household had had flu or especially strep throat recently.  He said no - but sounded unsure about recent illnesses.  The Vet said dogs can pick up strep type infections from humans and visa-verse, which was new to me.  I'll never know for sure where it came from - but get this:  I'm sick now.  Within 24 hours of Carrie's onset, I had terrible bronchitis, sore throat, headache, fever, chills and loss of appetite, rather like my new doggie.  Unlike Carrie, at the first sign I hit the Emergen-C, got out my inhaler and prepared for the worst.  I'm coughing so hard I had to buy protection.... (no I'm not explaining this...)

Sympathy illness?  Perhaps.  I could have pick it up anywhere, but a pattern is a pattern - and this looks like a pattern to me.  That frisson I spoke of?  In this case, it must have been the first onset of the chilblains.

We are both doing better - though that vet bill is likely to kill me.  Better photos when we both stop coughing.

Here's Carrie - See her shaved legs and her bandage?  Poor baby.  Apologies for the cacophony of patterns here.  She's a real sweet tiger of a dog.

On being moved...

I spend a great deal of time alone - and I suppose this has led to more than average (whatever average might be) forays into self examination.  These lead to finding and then poking about in ones (mine own) faults and foibles.  One of my odder tendencies is to avoid seeking out many of the things that move me and that I love.  This would appear to be a contradiction - and it is.  So why?  Here's the deal - or parts of it, I think.

I fear loss of control.

I fear my own reactions.

I'm afraid of feeling too much, being overwhelmed - and then frozen into a rather catatonic state of mind.

In the case of viewing others artwork, I sometimes fear being influenced (another sort of loss of control) or by becoming impotent/immobilized by the enormity of creating work that is relevant and relative.

I'm not saying I cannot overcome these tendencies.  Otherwise I'd probably hole up and cut myself off from all media and communication and just make stuff in a vacuum - or never make anything more.  And every time something or someone really moves me, I'm happier and grateful for the experience.

 What moves me? Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. 

Vertigo

No - not the movie - though it is one of my favorite Hitchcock films.  Like the character Jimmy Stewart played, I suffer from vertigo in high places.  My 1989 visit to a World Trade Center tower and the Empire State Building had me literally clinging to the inside walls.  As long as I looked out and away and did not look down, I was okay, but any glance downward had the world spinning for me. I still enjoyed it - and never experienced the paralyzing panic Stewart portrayed.

Fast forward.  This past year I began experiencing vertigo occasionally while going about everyday tasks.  It always passed quickly and I never came close to falling so I assumed it might be an inner ear infection.  Once before I'd had this, though that episode lasted a week or so with constant symptoms.  I finally had to get some righteous antibiotics to quell the little bugs.

Then one morning I opened my eyes and the room began to spin while I was still lying down.  Now that was new!  Stroke?  Dropsy?  Brain tumor?  Another infection?  I decided to do a bit of online investigation.  I learned that vertigo and dizziness are not the same thing - and there are many causes for both.  When I read symptoms and causes of something called BPPV.  I realized I could be the poster child for Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo.

Never heard of it? Me either.  It seems that if one has had a serious head injury (me), a history of sinus trouble (me), broken ear drums/ear infections (me - as a teen lifeguard), sleep on your stomach (me) - suffer from migraines (I used to), and are over 50 (yeah, me) - you might get BPPV.  It has to do with little calcium "stones" in the inner ear whose movements are essential to balance.  Mine get stuck.

Luckily for me, it's not all that serious - and there are quick and easy treatments/exercises that one can do oneself. I can't seem to stop sleeping on my stomach, so I'll likely be prone to these episodes. 

I keep hearing Arnold say: "It's not a tumor" in that accent of his...

No rabbit hole blog is complete without silly cat photos!

It's a bird!

It's a plane!

It's - it's Super Winkle!

The Flying Siamese!

Winkle "flying" through cyberspace on her vintage monitor....

Who are we, really?

One of my close friends calls me a philosopher, another thinks I am mostly funny and my mother thinks I am "all business."  I'm all of these, but not always at the same time.  Like many people, I am prone to moods - and tend to be reactive to other people's moods and/or personalities as well.  What I am at my core is shy.

I don't think a shy child ever overcomes shyness.  One learns to push past it much of the time; to change behavior, but left to my own devices, I tend to withdraw, avoid confrontation, crowds of strangers, and aggressive people.  I'm still shy on the inside.  I have learned self preservation means saying no - and standing up for myself - and I do feel a bit proud when I do .  But I don't like how I feel while it's happening. It's not comfortable to try to be something I am not.

Gracie is shy, too.

If I were a butterfly or moth, I could just spin a cocoon or chrysalis and emerge as a different "being."  Instead, I weave a cocoon of protection that is intangible.  I am terrible at selling my own work, so I sell through galleries and the internet where face to face sales are rare.  And yet I am enthusiastic and even wonderful at selling the works of artist friends...  Go figure.

Me in another life...  (a black swallowtail to be!!)

It's so hot, and I am too poor right now to afford another air conditioner for my studio room.  When I get home from my "day job", the house is well over 90 degrees, and only the bedroom is cooled, so I make a quick supper, dashing in and out of the "air." I use only the microwave if possible to avoid making more heat.   I can't bring myself to paint unless I can work in the morning on the days I am off - or down in the shop which I can keep cool until about 2pm, when the heat overcomes the small air conditioner there.

This is the hottest summer I've experienced in my 20 years in the south.  I'd move if I could!!!  But September is coming, and any day now, I might have enough extra $$ to get cooler...

Hope everyone out there is keeping cool too. 

A Bee, A Bee!!

All week I've been on the lookout for bee and butterflies...  A few butterflies have been sighted - and lo! Yesterday I finally saw one - just one - honeybee.  I was actually tempted to stake out the clover and follow that bee, but I had places to be myself...  (sorry, couldn't resist...) 

I spent my day off finishing two small paintings for the upcoming Sautee show, and then got a call from a shop that sells my things to come touch up a desk that had sold.  I promptly lost my mind and forgot to photograph the paintings before I delivered them.  What a dolt.

I'm so happy about seeing that bee that I just have to post happy photos.  Here's one of my daylily plantings.

These are near a small pond and very happy.

And here is one very shy Monarch. This was taken with my feeble telephoto before he disappeared.

And for comic relief...  the inimitable Gracie:

First we feeds ourselves....

Then we burps....

Then we grooms...

Then we naps...

Then we really naps...

???  It's Garfy - a real square.  Everybody loves the box!