tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50163962051294244772024-03-18T23:15:37.514-04:00All In A Day...Reader, knitter, weaver, spinner, art maker, quiltmaker, sewist, yoga, yardwork, thinker, lover of poetry, animals, and living simply. I am also owned by my beagle, Bitty. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.comBlogger168125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-3014283831957611682021-02-26T13:18:00.004-05:002021-02-26T15:17:41.031-05:00Heart Broken Days<p><br /> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Someone did not get the memo, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-2a41a10c-7fff-44b1-1a7d-14fc64ddf904"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yesterday afternoon,after arriving home with my dog from a long walk, she appeared to be really chewing something. It was another bone from somewhere. The second one. I don’t know where it came from but she picked it up and saved it? I tried to remove it with a sharp drop it but she ignores those words, all the time. I was not going to reach in and get it as I have not had her since puppyhood, but rather only three years of her eleven. So I tried distracting with a few sharp pulls on her harness with the leash still on. At that she became enraged, dropped the bone alright, and latched on to my right hand with such vengeance and didn’t let go until I screamed. Blood streaming, ran to the bathroom, shocked and sobbing. Finally called my PCP and they directed me to the ER for care as they wanted it ex-rayed. I got the message clearly hands are very susceptible to infections from dog bites, even if it is your dog that bit you.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 832px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 832px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 832px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><img height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/6oxVaR02XUBw8YPZEBqtskLfF0gCW_HsZmYQ4ExpDRacGg061MXKXtrIo1V0ndBUrs9qN37JMEVf_RS_o-cVPVR5c0XJB_MGtn91GAntLipyAdtZALYdP-0CD-s9KAcXXI84yXBY=w240-h320" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="240" /><img height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/Ya40HYPw5D2HFkH5Wzx8UhMxVwylMxQue41_0Kz1fKI8RVVKPNISUp1ObUcmqMrIGR8-XhbBl54eU_4At2iJhs3iF9Jf1WYFVPBxIWCD9hoq8Bwc8gKelB5fnLEA285PF2c1NXiZ=w240-h320" style="font-size: 11pt; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="240" /> <span style="font-size: 11pt;">After four hours, anxious being in a hospital ER, seen by a few doctors, ex-rays, prescription for antibiotics, flushing into the wounds with sterile water(fun stuff), and a hefty co-pay, I returned home. Sad, hungry, and exhausted. I tore off my clothing and took a shower to wash off the hospital before I ate and went to bed. Paranoid? Maybe. But after being home for twelve months, but for food and books, and being of a certain age, a hospital did not feel like the place I should be. </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">So today the wounds are trying to scab but it is my right hand, after all. My dishes are piled up and too soon to try and put gloves on and do them. So soaking and hoping for the best. I don’t care actually. I am cool with the dog right now, and that does not mean OK. I am sad that this attack happened. I understand in some way, I did provoke her, unwittingly. I didn’t know what she was chewing on and was concerned. I don’t eat meat so where she picked the dam bone up in the first place, I have no idea. When I found it, in piece on the floor it appeared to be a pork chop bone. She walks with her nose to the ground most of the time, so she picks things up before I know it. But the strength of her attack. Just wow. She is a dog and doesn’t understand my hurt. I realize that also, but I am somewhat broken hearted. </span><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I can’t write, draw, knit or weave. Even holding a leash is out of the question for the need to switch hands all the time. Typing has been a chore with the mouse. I have to use my left hand. And the mouse and I are not communicating well. So still feel shocked and numb. My hand is stiff and swollen do to both the bite and arthritis. So I am going out for a long walk in the sunshine, alone. I need to process and calm myself. The following photo is the cleaned up version. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 832px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><img height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/24LJDxvyTckSPkQHYZbuYeLIcrVN6-WAxiQ8NXIIjQfkYtLHyXGJ5qUXaX9_h-DRXXRYo7JYalHlt0umBr-xpd9Gv9HEQOlUhpYKLjgemm8MFP8On6w7tPhp3MhlFSR37Nlls2vP=w240-h320" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="240" /></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 832px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><br /></span></span></div></span>Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-71466482303835043462021-02-10T12:50:00.002-05:002021-02-10T14:41:13.496-05:00Searching for Hope Days<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Searching for Hope Days</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-e2c10dbc-7fff-f253-3a7d-15d546604faf"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is just about a year now that life started to change and the shut downs were beginning, putting everyone in isolation, many of us alone. Our shut downs began March 12, 2020. I feel the need to communicate now and feel there is no one there. I began to think about my blog, still there, waiting for me to remember it and let my thoughts be gathered by it. So here we are, my blog and I.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think to come back to something, something left behind, to begin again, one needs to just start, and throw herself right on the page, and write.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It has been a complicated year of not being able to be with family and friends, worrying about every step out the of the safety of my home. The contact I did have, waiting the two weeks, hoping I and they were OK, healthy. Where I use to go out to the store or library a few times a week, picking up books or groceries, fresh greens to cook, now changed and all came to a shocking halt! </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of my children who lived thirty minutes or so away called and said she wanted to come see me. I remember reminding her of Covid and the shut down, not for my safety alone, but she had compromising health issues that she needed to be concerned with. She was aware and was just as frustrated. She was just wishing she could come. That was July. That call seems so poignant now. I try to remember every word, every call over the year. But they, the calls stopped in July. But not unusual for her and I knew she would call when she could.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then November arrived. Not at all sure what happened in the months since summer, as they were all a blur, each day floating in and out of each other. Nothing to grab onto for the sake of memory. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the end of November approached, I felt the deep need to follow Advent. I hunted for short, fat purple candles and one pink. But was too late. They were all gone. I started reading A Christmas Carol, which was also being streamed this year, freely by Trinity Repertory Company, who presents it yearly. I was also following vlogs on You Tube of fiber artist I followed throughout the year. They were like connections as they in their various countries were also looked down. I was trying to make the best of a tiring, hard situation. Our governor ordered yet another pause. For my age group, my pause had never relaxed. Just more of the same.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All of this to say Advent began Sunday, November 29, 2020 and by Tuesday, December 1, 2020 everything halted. I need to remember these days and all I was feeling, mark them down, and honor them. I had no conscious idea what was about to begin that day, or end. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The following is a reflection I wrote on Christmas morning, as I quietly sipped coffee. Still numb and in shock and no where to turn with my feelings of disbelief and deeper still sadness.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">December 25, 2020 Christmas Day </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sitting here on this rainy Christmas morning I decided to turn on my tree lights and put my Celtic Christmas CD in the Bose to play. I got Bitty out during a short break in the rain. As soon as we were back in, the heavens opened up, pouring rain, and I was grateful to be inside. I made coffee and I began to reflect on the last four weeks of Advent, on the last four weeks of my daughter Deanna’s life, how each Sunday of Advent heralded a week of a different emergency needing my consent to treat, then waiting word on each procedure result. The first week of Advent brought the news she was hospitalized and the needing my consent for procedures as she was unable to give her own consent. (I had been her emergency contact for thirty years) By the second week of Advent, still hospitalized, she was found bleeding, bleeding from her mouth, and more frantic phone calls from physicians telling me all she was up against, including the addition of covid, a possible death sentence for her and I knew it. They were needing emergency consents from me. A kind ICU doctor spoke to me daily gently explaining each days medical event and protocol. Each week that went by I found I was half here and half with her, in my mind. By the third week of Advent I was at Hope Hospice, giving yet another consent, but now for comfort only, for hospice care, this time in writing. And the waiting for an entirely different phone call had begun. By the Fourth Sunday of Advent my girl had been dead for five days and by today, Christmas, she is home, in the form of her ashes, in the sitting room. I realized I had been waiting all of Advent, holding my breath, waiting for phone calls, waiting for the hardest of words, trying to piece together all that she had been suffering with, that it all went very quickly from hope to sorrow during this period of Advent, this period of waiting. Also because of Covid, she suffered and died alone,without her mother to hold her, to comfort her. This haunts me. Deanna had battled many demons all of her life, right to the end; she now is no longer in the battle, but at peace, which I am really not sure what that means, if I am to be totally honest. But that is a whole other conversation… </span></p><br /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwJlgojEjAyGXmAhGTySlHhwJ3DtilVR6md7N5lXW_kNcnShaD1Tee8OxclTXavjNxQ9ghkcD0IZRvzhd8Bejqju1AjGrX8TA9TO89UkNfXzd-LvVpF3uZQScSDr7LoenPx6ptENW4alY/s480/137218307_10225584224376830_3878389836098619028_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwJlgojEjAyGXmAhGTySlHhwJ3DtilVR6md7N5lXW_kNcnShaD1Tee8OxclTXavjNxQ9ghkcD0IZRvzhd8Bejqju1AjGrX8TA9TO89UkNfXzd-LvVpF3uZQScSDr7LoenPx6ptENW4alY/w320-h320/137218307_10225584224376830_3878389836098619028_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-13346281174460930482019-09-27T22:28:00.002-04:002019-09-27T22:56:44.584-04:00Thoughtful Days<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">It has been a while since writing. I wondered why I stopped posting and realized life was happening and then, there is Facebook. But of late I find myself thinking about writing and keeping track here, on my blog. It feels a bit more personal, contained maybe. So I will give it a go and see where it takes me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">So much has changed since I began this blog. My husband had died six years ago on August twenty-eight. I am not sure how six years have passed but here we are. Both of my beagle girls, Amy and Maggie are both with Richard, I like to think. I lost my Maggie two years ago. She was fifteen and so important to me when my husband died. She was with me through it all and in the grief. Then four months after Maggie’s passing, a little eight year old, thirteen inch beagle girl came into my life, thanks to a friend. She needed a home and I needed her. So Bitty and I have been taking care of one another, now ever since with it coming up on to two years in December.
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hPOXS6hXwRYXrr37dWUb2vECON45QyaxzqAyFHdw_ZxvYFSFbALIA8r4KhSZ8EdQuvGBm5fR8tDebFFQN14xbrR0VOuuKb90FNT0SP3vzjdvtH1PgivHZMLJFn0sPbFU6ntok17NJQc/s1600/IMG_5186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1255" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hPOXS6hXwRYXrr37dWUb2vECON45QyaxzqAyFHdw_ZxvYFSFbALIA8r4KhSZ8EdQuvGBm5fR8tDebFFQN14xbrR0VOuuKb90FNT0SP3vzjdvtH1PgivHZMLJFn0sPbFU6ntok17NJQc/s320/IMG_5186.JPG" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bitty</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
I am trying to make sense of this new way of life. I was married to the same man for fifty years so six years relative to fifty, is a drop in the bucket. I am still trying to be comfortable in my own skin. I take care of my home, yard, and car. I have had to learn as I go. You tube has been a huge help in many ways, from changing faucets to taking traps apart to clean to checking the various needs of my eighteen year old Subaru. </div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At the same time I have been digging down deep, staying with the grief, the sadness's, the anger, feeling what was happening to me inside and processing, always processing. What I believed about life was changing, as was I. I met my husband at fourteen going on fifteen. We married very young and boom, here I am, without him. So I am exploring this new terrain within. Looking up at the sky, the trees, listening and grateful. Grateful for my little house, my sanctuary. I smile when I think of Richard's words on many occasions: You need a whole house of your own for your stuff. Irony. I am an artist who also sews clothes and quilts, weave, knit, and even spin when it calls me. But painting and drawing are where I leave everything and drift. With that said, I am trying to sort that out. And maybe I do not need to sort anything out. I prefer to draw or paint during the day and settle with quilting or knitting during the evening. And my tools and materials are indeed part of the furnishings and he would be smiling saying, see?<br />
<br />
I just finished piecing these two quilts this summer. I am on a mission to use up the fabrics and yarns I already have. It's a great motivator as well.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvf7fGIEqOwWW1vIfXtnYnJ7L_X7ijK7clphRPuoR86B4zWCbDDlZeP5n1rsrhOg4dnkD81cq_yBOPbyjZIRZcCGYs8kYKO0_70Z2pDAmZMMvzCa48T-ay5xubwtEbygc_1e1SbJ1ShTg/s1600/IMG_5182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvf7fGIEqOwWW1vIfXtnYnJ7L_X7ijK7clphRPuoR86B4zWCbDDlZeP5n1rsrhOg4dnkD81cq_yBOPbyjZIRZcCGYs8kYKO0_70Z2pDAmZMMvzCa48T-ay5xubwtEbygc_1e1SbJ1ShTg/s320/IMG_5182.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Ringo Lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Skcc0Wwal5vGNUWWi8_ahsEKDLxE0loWoCFNjsL7M6yEGNPNCrr4Lhauw3sN58zwEiak2K2nuUKBQJ0kSfpSDSM7kkmqZTGmrFLDO0YOLUhqJ4yJVy3bM0UHFAnxwzlOM9J2TtyqmWY/s1600/IMG_5246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Skcc0Wwal5vGNUWWi8_ahsEKDLxE0loWoCFNjsL7M6yEGNPNCrr4Lhauw3sN58zwEiak2K2nuUKBQJ0kSfpSDSM7kkmqZTGmrFLDO0YOLUhqJ4yJVy3bM0UHFAnxwzlOM9J2TtyqmWY/s320/IMG_5246.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Log Cabin Braid</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
</div>
<div>
I also walk Bitty every day usually through the streets where we live anywhere from one to three miles daily. Or at least I aim for daily. Bitty doesn't let me slide much and that is a good thing, I suppose. Occasionally my daughter will pick us up and we head to Rocky Point to walk our dogs as well as ourselves, walking the path along the water. It is such a beautiful place. Twice around gives us our three miles.</div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUegOtd9V6XKEVmdOU5F1MKlPKlz8KlGPKLB_ERV5WerlswRplsqwAPqaXdo1iAwWE9cYUZy_5AVnCkHvUK29GuPf-89k-JNHIUMNBycdi8WhZ2TY1C8Ur5cHu4kMiM1r0E5BrWY0vGtg/s1600/IMG_5273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUegOtd9V6XKEVmdOU5F1MKlPKlz8KlGPKLB_ERV5WerlswRplsqwAPqaXdo1iAwWE9cYUZy_5AVnCkHvUK29GuPf-89k-JNHIUMNBycdi8WhZ2TY1C8Ur5cHu4kMiM1r0E5BrWY0vGtg/s320/IMG_5273.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rocky Point at dusk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I think I want a quiet place to write and share what I am making, reading, and thinking. So with that, I have a pacing dog who wants to go out for the last time tonight, but it is really to collect that bed time cookie when she comes in, you see. She is a very smart little beagle. I will leave this here for tonight. I feel like I am relearning the process of blogging with the adding photos and formatting. Learning is a good thing I suppose, though frustrating. Have a great night and thanks for reading. Comments are welcome of course.</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-27213404867363516832017-09-30T00:30:00.000-04:002017-10-01T00:32:22.459-04:00My Sweet Girl, Day Thirty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXUNyiFzo-86HD-BEubbqBXBj1gXACz77pHquQSQ944O4K2ACZBys20sftQzAhdyLKS0qQmES9xo51idWDR4oDAtC5UMXCACq1t3PmHPqXdpi8XEk3JdfyszcUVVcI0FZKvIy517NSHY/s1600/22155157_10214780802658039_1276484457_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXUNyiFzo-86HD-BEubbqBXBj1gXACz77pHquQSQ944O4K2ACZBys20sftQzAhdyLKS0qQmES9xo51idWDR4oDAtC5UMXCACq1t3PmHPqXdpi8XEk3JdfyszcUVVcI0FZKvIy517NSHY/s320/22155157_10214780802658039_1276484457_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My Sweet Girl</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Oil on Canvas, 8"x 10"</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
#30paintingsin30days</div>
<br />Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-52828913272632213812017-09-29T00:00:00.000-04:002017-09-30T00:02:35.700-04:00Twilight, Day Twenty-nine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0plmdzw2fljAGHUAzPogoBx3mjE_CTv5LzJoA7Mq48X9Q2Adqr1pUYfyumOvTJZOCI3Olzp_9pUPeRY9ANqUWXgeUG2yuv3xU870xutr_b9nxOVjPYoyIIv6TuxTWmOtzl-Xv8okaWyw/s1600/22127181_10214771388262685_2053005443_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="960" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0plmdzw2fljAGHUAzPogoBx3mjE_CTv5LzJoA7Mq48X9Q2Adqr1pUYfyumOvTJZOCI3Olzp_9pUPeRY9ANqUWXgeUG2yuv3xU870xutr_b9nxOVjPYoyIIv6TuxTWmOtzl-Xv8okaWyw/s320/22127181_10214771388262685_2053005443_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Twilight<br />
Oil, 8"x 10'<br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30daysCarolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-80596332033190226042017-09-28T23:36:00.004-04:002017-09-29T00:44:37.086-04:00Do You Remember When... Day Twenty-eight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOuJeYxFpQENZXR1AUNTYoWf7QoBQyxNSsbt5rTY_IqZ-hWKAwUXiFzSe7b8X8Erv8w7LW_vRVAZIukTOz-N3eJgKPdnWJH7AoRX43D5OVrgQMsXUeIEQ3ylMmsM3oU5_weQlewdSt4tk/s1600/22119191_10214763124456095_433824185_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOuJeYxFpQENZXR1AUNTYoWf7QoBQyxNSsbt5rTY_IqZ-hWKAwUXiFzSe7b8X8Erv8w7LW_vRVAZIukTOz-N3eJgKPdnWJH7AoRX43D5OVrgQMsXUeIEQ3ylMmsM3oU5_weQlewdSt4tk/s320/22119191_10214763124456095_433824185_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Do You Remember When...<br />
oil on canvas, 6"x 6"<br />
#30paintingsin30daysCarolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-22881685307782513872017-09-27T23:56:00.002-04:002017-09-28T00:30:20.051-04:00The Waning, Day Twenty-seven<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzO5KCQa2fUSQBnQT6znqPo0nUDo9HNB2mrnHQMTJEemDP4rSACuwpBWFArXtEwY7SLSba0AtdAZqxS6EQYbq-OsU8q-fsm0YH9oCQMfJLqRfJN7R44Fqa8zkalV8Gsc6xfnDCXUkWO8/s1600/22093400_10214754839608979_237891063_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzO5KCQa2fUSQBnQT6znqPo0nUDo9HNB2mrnHQMTJEemDP4rSACuwpBWFArXtEwY7SLSba0AtdAZqxS6EQYbq-OsU8q-fsm0YH9oCQMfJLqRfJN7R44Fqa8zkalV8Gsc6xfnDCXUkWO8/s320/22093400_10214754839608979_237891063_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The Waning<br />
oil on canvas, 6"x 6"<br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30days<br />
<br />
I pulled the rest of my vegetable garden this evening. It was a disappointing season with a cold rainy Spring, my battle with insects, and then a woodchuck. I was able to harvest only one zucchini, which is usually unheard of! My harvest as a whole was frustratingly spare, for all the work that went in to it, not to mention money. But the season is past now, with the concept of impermanence being taught repeatedly. I like Autumn but I have a hard time with the shortening of the days and the loss of light. I can already begin to feel the mental heaviness beginning with the sun setting now setting before seven. Today is set at 6:34 pm. I find myself rushing to get things done before the sun slides out of sight. Otherwise, I quite like Fall. as a quieting of outside begins... Thanks for visiting.<br />
<div style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #302f2f; font-family: "Droid Sans", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-28387203264942507332017-09-26T16:40:00.000-04:002017-09-26T16:40:26.981-04:00Under the Hidden Stars, Day Twenty-six<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJgcGYw-cVhUCfvoJuNSuX_OS2SEXYJw5NExpv9tq6vOmbtb-gwCYHx3XVIJUGa3zx8_sTN4xqqb16OLjdefZ5-R1pP-hKJNr36d_Qc6-YH0q6A5WyPMwtdcV_WymyI9dNYehyDWmozBc/s1600/22053146_10214743259999496_1050624638_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJgcGYw-cVhUCfvoJuNSuX_OS2SEXYJw5NExpv9tq6vOmbtb-gwCYHx3XVIJUGa3zx8_sTN4xqqb16OLjdefZ5-R1pP-hKJNr36d_Qc6-YH0q6A5WyPMwtdcV_WymyI9dNYehyDWmozBc/s320/22053146_10214743259999496_1050624638_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Under the Hidden Stars<br />
oil on canvas, 8"x 10"Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-10554100613599242542017-09-25T23:30:00.005-04:002017-09-25T23:30:58.640-04:00Ebb and Flow, Day Twenty-five<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOE5UIsZCDO70wMx6E_JRWV0wTjfkzM9yr-aHMfrtlJTJFYmjyw_KCMOpE3nUnuw6mFBybx0lU4dAqGn9cyBgTNSarUhNEBOLPyWZBuHTlReEj0CpI9rAQfwpMZcj0wIA8p5Ve535Lfwk/s1600/22091677_10214737781182529_1515065806_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOE5UIsZCDO70wMx6E_JRWV0wTjfkzM9yr-aHMfrtlJTJFYmjyw_KCMOpE3nUnuw6mFBybx0lU4dAqGn9cyBgTNSarUhNEBOLPyWZBuHTlReEj0CpI9rAQfwpMZcj0wIA8p5Ve535Lfwk/s320/22091677_10214737781182529_1515065806_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Ebb and Flow<br />
oil on canvas, 8"x 10"<br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30daysCarolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-85352796407724189972017-09-24T23:22:00.003-04:002017-09-24T23:22:45.876-04:00A Memory, Day Twenty-four<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8xqcEI-KocGi06VvC6AYztDuQUl6ySOcUKQsAQgavCHvx3b-VekRvwZQnW29DmoopXVxm6mirC4L48Agp4QKobxJp5D9G1q0qvp5iQTVOX0hbcI48Xb7Rui_OXuXs6-OLmowLFeWdYc/s1600/22053374_10214729352731823_658893972_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="960" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8xqcEI-KocGi06VvC6AYztDuQUl6ySOcUKQsAQgavCHvx3b-VekRvwZQnW29DmoopXVxm6mirC4L48Agp4QKobxJp5D9G1q0qvp5iQTVOX0hbcI48Xb7Rui_OXuXs6-OLmowLFeWdYc/s320/22053374_10214729352731823_658893972_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
A Memory<br />
watercolor sketchbook,10"x8"Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-41238200732404273962017-09-23T09:50:00.001-04:002017-09-23T09:50:17.351-04:00Solitude of Rocks, Day twenty-three<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-1wVlBrN2srrDsUous_3Si2sx_QzSCWoPdRsVBDZY-Yxq0VpYTXAxWQKUxwOA2UAe5wezM5BLzuDpoOjUVcCKDQ3dj5tYu6MKOmMw3EDvGzPTmf_jnQ-UEjX7PAyLwHgumk02MjBsWQ/s1600/21942330_10214714042069066_1145592312_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="960" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-1wVlBrN2srrDsUous_3Si2sx_QzSCWoPdRsVBDZY-Yxq0VpYTXAxWQKUxwOA2UAe5wezM5BLzuDpoOjUVcCKDQ3dj5tYu6MKOmMw3EDvGzPTmf_jnQ-UEjX7PAyLwHgumk02MjBsWQ/s320/21942330_10214714042069066_1145592312_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Solitude of Rocks<br />
Watercolor, 7"x10"<br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30days!Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-12521739984618894792017-09-22T22:31:00.001-04:002017-09-22T22:31:02.961-04:00Lotus , Day Twenty-two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOs4KldV2ZxCabiLq6HmZoLlh_Zax4UJrtGtSDoIL5b8Xe9MkCMquBek_wWh_alWNq9dogXht9_I-ve2HplLM9Nh9FNyHwr1YcfACEuy551pbtj8CYaIm0x4APpIyDG4pz9N5nnmJFkro/s1600/21913021_10214710686505179_269030131_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOs4KldV2ZxCabiLq6HmZoLlh_Zax4UJrtGtSDoIL5b8Xe9MkCMquBek_wWh_alWNq9dogXht9_I-ve2HplLM9Nh9FNyHwr1YcfACEuy551pbtj8CYaIm0x4APpIyDG4pz9N5nnmJFkro/s320/21913021_10214710686505179_269030131_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Lotus<br />
Sketchbook watercolor, 10"x8" Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-78851227937052893062017-09-21T22:58:00.002-04:002017-09-21T22:58:29.293-04:00Just Marks,Day Twenty-one<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhor3WkgBYZlcGC458Gctsmd0AiMhUR-Bv6VXMMj1IzIc2YnsyHGnCnCHuvmyUUXeKj4JKP4BVI82NfnJuzTS1kt0qa6qkIuuoeBePn3m69jO-ejcupPDgtvYs9TDHjxrUEIMDk-EMALuo/s1600/21979338_10214701022543586_1218132112_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhor3WkgBYZlcGC458Gctsmd0AiMhUR-Bv6VXMMj1IzIc2YnsyHGnCnCHuvmyUUXeKj4JKP4BVI82NfnJuzTS1kt0qa6qkIuuoeBePn3m69jO-ejcupPDgtvYs9TDHjxrUEIMDk-EMALuo/s320/21979338_10214701022543586_1218132112_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Just Marks<br />
acrylic, 6"x6"<br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30days!<br />
<br />Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-1023287727538200572017-09-20T21:18:00.006-04:002017-09-20T21:25:23.453-04:00The Jetty, Day Twenty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLnE2ogRxbXEsd0ctabjK491PPn29MTZxe-oOa6FU4jRMMhIZ1iWHhlGi6YPihyphenhyphen1uv403Kh3yuK2FPN6Dy0uWlbVcfnTTRA7smGFgPNQjhkLFsCFs0jdmZ_O1ivpW1Hcx-QoI4vYV0cs/s1600/21942019_10214691777032454_218320707_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLnE2ogRxbXEsd0ctabjK491PPn29MTZxe-oOa6FU4jRMMhIZ1iWHhlGi6YPihyphenhyphen1uv403Kh3yuK2FPN6Dy0uWlbVcfnTTRA7smGFgPNQjhkLFsCFs0jdmZ_O1ivpW1Hcx-QoI4vYV0cs/s320/21942019_10214691777032454_218320707_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
The Jetty<br />
Sketchbook painting, watercolor, 10"x8"<br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30days!<br />
<br />
Did this little painting this morning with thoughts of planning on doing it in oil, but time is at an essence this week and tonight is all about the second quilt and it's finishing. So I did painting today and now wish I had used actual watercolor paper. But I also love to do these sketchbook paintings. so with that, it is paint and it is on paper, so it works for me.Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-7596666538156568672017-09-20T00:08:00.001-04:002017-09-20T00:08:20.408-04:00Storm Coming, Day Nineteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsl0AEwiinyUXqKW2c1AFc424Ypb-exxL1viWNyGEgsASGCH54XY-stl-iFm2slwMZQ8iRxHab2MM7JEj12U_ABu6-UiaYc2Ut-kU1ZAMubANm0uMGZ63sqoH6lZ7ul4M23RSjKl-BYH8/s1600/21849113_10214683626268690_769968623_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="880" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsl0AEwiinyUXqKW2c1AFc424Ypb-exxL1viWNyGEgsASGCH54XY-stl-iFm2slwMZQ8iRxHab2MM7JEj12U_ABu6-UiaYc2Ut-kU1ZAMubANm0uMGZ63sqoH6lZ7ul4M23RSjKl-BYH8/s320/21849113_10214683626268690_769968623_n.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
Storm Coming<br />
oil on canvas, 6"x6"<br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30days!Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-66698846766048741182017-09-18T15:45:00.002-04:002017-09-18T15:57:02.533-04:00Between a Rock and a Hard Place, Day Eighteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilsibGKxayfb6E5Qw4qOma8JbYxrNtwPmgs1GfUBUxWZiaWe5u9pZc3gi-JRa3NF8a2RR3IYdg6yg6mn0YT3hwXSBt6ZynXN66NhP9oRJahNGONCYMzljt2J69Mo97MuSVcxQiHwcQEQQ/s1600/21850443_10214671192957865_1741367232_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="960" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilsibGKxayfb6E5Qw4qOma8JbYxrNtwPmgs1GfUBUxWZiaWe5u9pZc3gi-JRa3NF8a2RR3IYdg6yg6mn0YT3hwXSBt6ZynXN66NhP9oRJahNGONCYMzljt2J69Mo97MuSVcxQiHwcQEQQ/s320/21850443_10214671192957865_1741367232_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Between a Rock and a Hard Place<br />
oil on canvas, 8"x10"<br />
#30paintingsin30days!<br />
<br />
Somewhat? No, very distracted today. Phone calls, texts, things to attend to, allergy headache, and the tropical storm, Jose, is possibly going grace us with a visit here in southern New England. So I have some hatches to batten down I suppose. But I also would love to go to the shore a see the wild surf. So lesson learned today? Turn off phone and text when I am involved in my studio, until I am ready for both. Quite taken with exploring the rocks.Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-65427439794593359692017-09-17T17:35:00.002-04:002017-09-17T17:35:20.061-04:00From Another Place and Time, Day Seventeen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTTpTZDxa7bU3o0Cb-NkF0R8PM80GRdY_tcF6ElWNbmwxjwME2vHQfV1Olt_eBfzwvP-jsxtn022arntxPD7soJr6LHK4iPSvXeCzbEDomHZOsWMcEE_F9_Uip07EMXFEqNOyl2Ffcyk/s1600/21767707_10214664241704088_1799887600_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTTpTZDxa7bU3o0Cb-NkF0R8PM80GRdY_tcF6ElWNbmwxjwME2vHQfV1Olt_eBfzwvP-jsxtn022arntxPD7soJr6LHK4iPSvXeCzbEDomHZOsWMcEE_F9_Uip07EMXFEqNOyl2Ffcyk/s320/21767707_10214664241704088_1799887600_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
From Another Place and Time<br />
Oil on canvas, 6"x6"<br />
<br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30days #abstractpainting #paintingfromaplaceunknowntome<br />
<br />
<br />Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-50020447104468062672017-09-16T10:36:00.000-04:002017-09-16T10:36:05.583-04:00 Salt Kiss, Day Sixteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrGPSVMJOHw1F-FrrX8CDIfHq_t5roxunH-lLVlF_zqTxZm2DFi4DvB-ppfoNVZKMnykhkjKEd3mUXYDTAMidgOpr3Dz8rWpT30bz0UfkK7u_axNGekek2YOfplDT9gdRc6252qUUKmI/s1600/21622081_10214646602783126_1482636957_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="960" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrGPSVMJOHw1F-FrrX8CDIfHq_t5roxunH-lLVlF_zqTxZm2DFi4DvB-ppfoNVZKMnykhkjKEd3mUXYDTAMidgOpr3Dz8rWpT30bz0UfkK7u_axNGekek2YOfplDT9gdRc6252qUUKmI/s320/21622081_10214646602783126_1482636957_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Only A Salt Kiss<br />
oil on canvas, 9"x12"<br />
<br />Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-2544896028973118862017-09-15T11:15:00.002-04:002017-09-15T16:21:05.432-04:00Flow, Day Fifteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh95n6oQjp9JF7Qxi_jL5tOsAI244Qfss4WN163R_1Zxdzuo5G_SzggIRQRLLmx1fHNaeW8UIhaC1cC83ReGLdGwRaqHYw-pteLZdYPEM21Jfle7FpWs4QAKJQxKh9e7_ClmAVQRtKgMI/s1600/21767596_10214644218163512_1790678814_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh95n6oQjp9JF7Qxi_jL5tOsAI244Qfss4WN163R_1Zxdzuo5G_SzggIRQRLLmx1fHNaeW8UIhaC1cC83ReGLdGwRaqHYw-pteLZdYPEM21Jfle7FpWs4QAKJQxKh9e7_ClmAVQRtKgMI/s320/21767596_10214644218163512_1790678814_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Flow<br />
oil on canvas, 9"12"<br />
#30paintingsin30days!<br />
<br />
<br />
I am fifteen days into the challenge and I have to say, this is a great way to get refocused. It so far has been a strange month, one of unexpected phone calls carrying news in the juxtaposition of the birth and a death. So with that I have been spread a little thin. But I found that if I start the day in my studio with my sketchbook and some drawing tools, be they dry of wet, and do a fast sketch I seem to actually end up painting for a few hours, which has been my goal. But today I was looking at the sky, which I do a lot, and was thinking why not try clouds. Or waves, or what ever. This challenge also gives me the opportunity to try different techniques, subjects, and genres. I am pleased to say I was thinking about tomorrows painting and started it! A new subject for me. <br />
<br />
So trying to stay ahead of the game and finish those two baby quilts by the 23rd of this month. Which by the way, both are pieced, layered with batting and backing, and I have begun the quilting on quilt number one and the count down now begins with the final week to work on them. The mom just found out she was pregnant at the end of August and then found out they were twins! So it is my deal that I made a quilt for each grand child as they came over the years, with these two now starting the great grand baby quilt thing. I can not even believe this but a Gigi I will be. That is what I think I will be to them. All fun.Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-44987863696611475072017-09-14T13:54:00.001-04:002017-09-14T13:54:25.459-04:00Rose Hips, Day Fourteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWTaXsvEaULLl1XVhwA_tRVR6jLECsTsWp-rLd1Dhr_11a0Vt8fi57fI2InW5cs3sADVZVvISlsJKNmyEO8h2QTwEM2QVC75jsrOKE4-AD_xmIQF9n4Zb_FTFhdqMJA5v-Hpcm7HtkQs/s1600/21741730_10214636387607753_1265670125_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWTaXsvEaULLl1XVhwA_tRVR6jLECsTsWp-rLd1Dhr_11a0Vt8fi57fI2InW5cs3sADVZVvISlsJKNmyEO8h2QTwEM2QVC75jsrOKE4-AD_xmIQF9n4Zb_FTFhdqMJA5v-Hpcm7HtkQs/s320/21741730_10214636387607753_1265670125_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Rose Hips<br />
oil on canvas, 6"x6"<br />
#30paintingsin30days!Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-83999380953268142312017-09-13T14:21:00.001-04:002017-09-13T14:21:30.567-04:00Moses, Day Thirteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCo-nmRo0vgeXDZUaAgFR7NlNTY3FX14eDtkN8H5frMsQ5CUhyphenhyphenh0Scsfd6GePY7tFP1r9gn3BhpZcwl6qrcvPXfu87PbEAR4eGTfZAIMjtbDxGCp-0EskAH6sFDS0fOCUcXQQxt7D1OmI/s1600/21744704_10214627471784863_1196152489_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCo-nmRo0vgeXDZUaAgFR7NlNTY3FX14eDtkN8H5frMsQ5CUhyphenhyphenh0Scsfd6GePY7tFP1r9gn3BhpZcwl6qrcvPXfu87PbEAR4eGTfZAIMjtbDxGCp-0EskAH6sFDS0fOCUcXQQxt7D1OmI/s320/21744704_10214627471784863_1196152489_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Moses<br />
oil on canvas, 6"x6" <br />
#30paintingsin30days! <br />
<br />
Today was a quick easy painting. It is on a canvas, it is painted, so it is a painting! A quick sketch with watercolor in my sketchbook of one of my favorite plants, then immediately to the easel and banged this out. I have much on my plate such as two baby quilts to sandwich and quilt by the twenty-third! The quilts are pieced and ready for the next step. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-21166168492133994792017-09-12T18:01:00.001-04:002017-09-12T18:01:05.233-04:00Charlestown Breachway, Day Twelve<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwNljTdc6iLrB-vyURtkblHpqanfLYfulDnVNB5rAaqbPrnv0SgnDTbwcjCo1VhmFB3HgvRRlwcu-IQYWG2F5QgF-HwUsr92T6wQQUcqRjZdek8-5xFYySmjYVPiU-5UB6d6HcJ_xYoc/s1600/21729550_10214620824538686_580260000_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="960" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwNljTdc6iLrB-vyURtkblHpqanfLYfulDnVNB5rAaqbPrnv0SgnDTbwcjCo1VhmFB3HgvRRlwcu-IQYWG2F5QgF-HwUsr92T6wQQUcqRjZdek8-5xFYySmjYVPiU-5UB6d6HcJ_xYoc/s320/21729550_10214620824538686_580260000_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Charlestown Breachway<br />
oil on canvas, 9"x12"<br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30days!<br />
<br />
Landscape painting is not something I have explored much of but I had the occasion to visit this beautiful spot, here in Rhode Island, this summer a couple of times. The rocks intrigued me with their forms and lines. So I thought I would give it a try. I would like to do a few more from this place, which sits on a spit of land facing the Atlantic. It is home to beach home up on stilts, fishermen, beach goers, boaters, and shore birds with a lovely vantage point to view the sunset.<br />
<br />Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-72297741947699575872017-09-11T14:09:00.002-04:002017-09-11T14:09:22.326-04:00Aubergine Delight, Day Eleven <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmvzSZ0-YtZVi66hyphenhypheneXP2gw1h45oXgZYZZTJ9dz_LOS-QjE_1afgHq3bk20GhNA-Q4bLg4pVHY1Eu6ZJGMuGrNDR855vP-lSTyzTK9edBQAAH3tQ_gQAIy63I-792uusLsgHQ9Rn7Xtw/s1600/21641328_10214610665444715_2038804778_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="960" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmvzSZ0-YtZVi66hyphenhypheneXP2gw1h45oXgZYZZTJ9dz_LOS-QjE_1afgHq3bk20GhNA-Q4bLg4pVHY1Eu6ZJGMuGrNDR855vP-lSTyzTK9edBQAAH3tQ_gQAIy63I-792uusLsgHQ9Rn7Xtw/s320/21641328_10214610665444715_2038804778_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Aubergine Delight<br />
oil on canvas, 8"x10"<br />
#30paintingsin30days!<br />
<br />
<br />
Finding going right into my studio right after breakfast and doing some quick watercolor sketches in my sketchbook, as I sip that last mug of coffee, sets my sails on the right path for the day.Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-19368788912413803312017-09-10T21:54:00.002-04:002017-09-10T22:06:58.702-04:00Is Where The Story Begins, Day Ten<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFO7774LHBMIWGm5A7RBpUmZl61hmfjd-XidUJQ61bmnX5KOHzfmih1f9bNbouDi1D_2WGu-xUMPzr86l8l83dgrs4mnIW2_oiK-bZC4zE4tvaxpHvfA7o45xmeMbkqoNC-gOh7Vu8Co/s1600/21586071_10214605461194612_476765143_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="774" data-original-width="960" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFO7774LHBMIWGm5A7RBpUmZl61hmfjd-XidUJQ61bmnX5KOHzfmih1f9bNbouDi1D_2WGu-xUMPzr86l8l83dgrs4mnIW2_oiK-bZC4zE4tvaxpHvfA7o45xmeMbkqoNC-gOh7Vu8Co/s320/21586071_10214605461194612_476765143_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Is Where The Story Begins <br />
acrylic on canvas, 9"x12" <br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30days! #cleaningoffthepalettepaintings Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5016396205129424477.post-75686929908523636142017-09-09T22:25:00.001-04:002017-09-10T10:07:06.408-04:00Or With Hidden Sun, Day Nine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnoLGsbfAI3H1uMHxkP9kL894F5bM5mrNvkf0h1otL4DfNnBQCJkceffudS5l8V9mQQRJz5Xl2DneLwppKQCt0y6rV3zsI_AfX2h8bKJyWTIjNa_hujTMxOhd-iZMOSVOna3l0NooCpFg/s1600/21552586_10214596693455424_213781940_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnoLGsbfAI3H1uMHxkP9kL894F5bM5mrNvkf0h1otL4DfNnBQCJkceffudS5l8V9mQQRJz5Xl2DneLwppKQCt0y6rV3zsI_AfX2h8bKJyWTIjNa_hujTMxOhd-iZMOSVOna3l0NooCpFg/s320/21552586_10214596693455424_213781940_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Or With Hidden Sun<br />
acrylic on canvas, 9"x12"<br />
<br />
#30paintingsin30days!<br />
<br />
Not much to say yesterday or today which would explain my intense restlessness. I have much to do, much I am interested in, much I want to read, draw, and paint. But instead, I pace and have a restlessness I can not seem to banish. In many ways I understand it...but then again, I don't.Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11204047258371950042noreply@blogger.com1