Eastern Mockingbird

Eastern Mockingbird / oil on canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

sold!

DURING THE SUMMER OF THE COVID, I was lucky enough to be part of a group that had yoga sessions outdoors, under a tree on the front lawn of a church in Pungoteague. 

I loved it, I think we all did, this small community of older women practicing yoga - OK, old women practicing yoga (and here is a question that just popped up for me: Why are "older women" younger than "old women"???) 

In one session, as summer turned to fall, a mockingbird began to sing. He sang and sang and sang, for the entire 90 minutes of yoga, dozens of songs, one after another, a bouquet of joy and sunshine. 

I was telling this to someone, though, and they asked me if I didn't think it was sad that the mockingbird didn't have his own song. 

***

Coda

"The painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through." 

- Jackson Pollock

 

Storm

 Nor'easter / Oil on black canvas / 11x14 / $250 including shipping

sold! 

THE STORM WOKE ME at 3, a few mornings ago. It was the wind, wailing, yelling, slamming against the windows and the walls and the trunks of the trees. It was the rain, smashing against the metal roof and the windowpanes. And it was the strength and power of the storm itself, the first nor-easter of the season, the line storm, marking the passage from autumn to winter. 

I woke, the dogs woke, and later in the day, I found that many of my friends had also woken, all around 3, nudged into consciousness by the wrath and muscle of the wind and the rain. 

Sleep took me back, and on the way, I vowed to paint the feeling of the storm. My note says that I must paint it BIG (I wrote the word in caps) and this one is not BIG, but it is the storm - and perhaps a study for the BIG one. 

I hope you like it. 

***

Coda

"Every time we say, 'Let there be!' in any form, something happens." 

-Stella Terrell Mann

House Sparrow

House Sparrow / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68

sold! 

 

IN MY MOST RECENT POST, I WROTE about writing morning pages as instructed by Julia Cameron in "The Artist's Way." 

Today, I'm sharing another idea from the book. Make a list of 20 things you like to do - and then write down the most recent time you've done each. 

Interesting! As I thought about doing this, I wondered if there even were 20 things that I like to do, and I pretty much convinced myself that there weren't, and so why should I even bother to make the list? My life is so empty and I am so driven that of course there aren't 20 things I like to do. Twenty? Are there even 10? Even five? Two? 

This sort of response comes from what Cameron calls the critic brain, the part that tells me that I suck, that I am a terrible artist, that I shouldn't even begin to attempt the painting that I'm making because it will certainly be a disaster, that I don't even have the idea of the skills that I need - and on and on and on. 

We all have the critic brain, and it can be paralyzing. Writing the morning pages helps me shut up that voice. While I'm painting, I quiet the critic brain playing Netflix or Prime.

 The show or movie needs to be vaguely engaging - but not something that I need to look at, or listen closely to. I've replayed "Gray's Anatomy" any number of times, and "Silent Witness" a few times. Right now, I'm playing "Midsomer Murders," which does require a little more attention than I generally give it, so I often replay parts of it at night - but it does the job. 

So - 20 things you like to do, and when you did them last. And then, see if you can make a plan to do one or two of the ones you haven't done in the longest time. 

***

Coda

"Undoubtedly, we become what we envisage." 

- Claude M. Bristol

Pachyderm

Pachyderm / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68, including shipping

sold

THERE'S A WONDERFUL BOOK called "The Artist's Way," by Julia Cameron that I encourage you to read, even if you're not an "artist" in the traditional sense of the word. 

While the book is about finding, feeding and encouraging your inner artist, it's really about finding, feeding and encouraging your soul - the creative drive that is in all of us. 

It might come out in baking or cooking, it might come out in the way you decorate and keep your home. Your creative soul might be in your garden, or in your appreciation of poetry, or in your relationships with your family or your pets or the night sky. 

The book is intended as a 12-week course to help people get unstuck, or unblocked, or find the courage to take the next creative step. These are not issues for me, but the book has been immensely helpful anyways. 

Its main idea and task is to write "morning pages." That is, get up every morning and write three longhand pages, about anything. Even if you have nothing to say, and you write, for three pages "I have nothing to say," the point is to do it. Write your day's plans, your shopping list, the movies you want to watch, the friends you miss, and see, even there, I've slipped from the mundane into the more heartfelt. So, watch for that to happen - and it will. 

The point of the morning pages is to get the crap out of the way. Writing about the stuff that worries you, or the stuff that you're not even aware is worrying you, well, it takes that stuff out of the way. It could be something as simple as you needing to remember to have the car inspected - write it down in the morning pages, and you won't find yourself reminding yourself about it 20 times an hour. Think that repeated reminding gets in the way of creativity? You bet it does. 

Since I started writing morning pages years ago, my creativity has blossomed, my vision has sharpened, and the creative force in me has grown stronger and stronger. 

And you don't show these to anyone. No one. You don't even have to go back and read them. The content is not the point, nor is the style, the word choice, the spelling, the grammar, the handwriting, none of that. It's the transfer of stuff from your head to the page. The emptying of the critic brain to free the creative brain. That's where the magic is. 

I hope that some of you will try this, especially in this time of solitary existence and isolation. Who knows what you might find? 

Next time, I'll share an interesting exercise from the book. 

***

The Woody Show

I MIGHT HAVE WRITTEN about this already, but it continues to amuse me, so I will post it again. Woody, who is about 15, and mostly blind and deaf, moves his bed several times a day, by scratching and scratching with his forepaws while backing up. The other night, in my bedroom, he moved his little bed from the doorway (where he'd put it earlier) all the way across the 5x8 rug, and then along the wood floor at the foot of my bed to the side where I sleep. 

I think his point in all of this is to place his bed in spots that the other dogs and I have to pass, or step over, when we enter or leave the room. Since he can't hear or see very well, I think he relies on feeling the vibrations from our footsteps, to know that we're leaving. And leaving the bedroom - or the living room, for that matter - means it's time to go out, or to have a meal, both of which are big events in the life of the house here at 18 Bayview. 

If the video above doesn't play, and you want to watch a minute or so of The Woody Show, please click here.

***

Coda

"Experience, even for a painter, is not entirely visual." 

- Walter Meigs

Pileated

 Pileated Woodpecker / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping! 

sold! 

I REMEMBER ALMOST NOTHING from the weeks and months after Peter died, and this mystifies me. I was in such pain, I was so filled with grief and shock, I would think that these emotions would have plastered themselves, along with my actions and experiences, into some sort of indelible memory. 

Instead, the very opposite has happened. Days, weeks, months are gone. 

The first bird I painted - or at least, the first bird I posted - was a bluebird, on Jan. 2. Peter died on Oct. 10. I know I had this bird-painting idea as a solution to the sudden problem of not being able to do shows, because of the dogs, and because I was hurting so much. I know I wanted to get ahead with the bird paintings, for my own peace of mind and also because (and this astounds me now) I was planning to drive to Arizona in late January to visit my dad and Paula. 

I don't remember painting the birds, not these early ones. I remember the paintings, when I look at them, but not the process. I write in that Jan. 2 post that it is my second day of the bird project - but there seems to be no first day. 

That is what this all feels like - I know things happened, and people visited, and helped me. I know I went places and did things, but it's just not there. 

And maybe that is all for the best.

***

Coda

"If you have anything really valuable to contribute to the world, 
it will come through the expression of your own personality." 

- Bruce Barton

“If you have anything really valuable to contribute to the world,” said Bruce Barton, “it will come through the expression of your own personality,

Ms. Cardinal

 Mama Cardinal / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping! 

sold!

I'M UP BY 5, usually, and I sit here at the kitchen table, next to an east-facing window, and I write, and wait for the sky to lighten. There have been mornings, many of them this year, in which it seemed that, for sure, the sun would not come up. The night would stretch out farther and farther, and I would look at the clock and the sky again and again and wonder if today would be the day. And then, of course, the sky would lighten, and the world would be set right again. 

I like the time change, the earlier dawns, and even the earlier dusks. Right after Peter died, the days could not end early enough for me, and even now, there are many days in which I welcome the darkness, and I close the curtains and feel safe and shut in, and glad that the day is over. 

Here in Wachapreague, sunset starts to come later on Dec. 7. It is by seconds at first, two seconds, then five, then 12, incremental, unnoticeable, largely unnoticed. Sunrise, however, continues to come later - by large parts of minutes - until Jan. 7. 

So I will look out the window, those early January days, and surely, on one or two of them, I will wonder - is it today? 

My seat at the table. Koko is underneath, and Doc on the bed in the front. 

***

Coda

"One can have no smaller or greater mastery than mastery of oneself." 

- Leonardo DaVinci

Echo

 

Echo / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping 

(please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com, if the button doesn't seem to work)

PETER AND I watched "Jeopardy!" pretty much every night for pretty much all of the 31 years we were married. Peter had a fantastic memory, and an incredibly wide range of knowledge. History, geography, science, Vikings, religion, politics, dogs, cars, photography, inventors, he knew it. I sometimes thought that if he had realized how little I actually know - like, where IS Paraguay? Is Trinidad and Tobago one country or two? And on and on - he'd never have married me. 

My knowledge, scant though it is, filled in some of his deficits. I am very good with vocabulary, spelling and grammar. I'm fairly good with knowing writers and artists and their work. And that's about it. 

When it came to popular culture ("popular" being a relative term, in our house), we were total losers. I still am. 

We played "Jeopardy!" every night, always taping it so we could skip over the commercials. Some time in the past 10 years or so, we devised a fun way to play the final question. The show always gives you the category, then goes to a commercial. So we would stop the tape and, before we found out the clue, we would guess the answer. Then we'd start the tape and watch the outcome. 

For instance, Friday's category was Fairy Tales. So I'd have guessed Cinderella, and he'd have guessed Thumbelina. 

We'd have stopped the tape and made our guesses before we heard the clue, which was this: "In French, this fairy tale character is La Petite Poucette, in Spanish, Paulgarcity and in English, this."

Turns out the answer was "Who is Thumbelina?" So I would have been wrong with Cinderella, but he would have been right. 

Usually, of course, we were wrong. But we would get the right answer once or twice a month, and it was always thrilling. It always made us laugh. One time, we got three in a row! 

Of course, there's a knack for getting the right answer. You have to be able to make a question about it, for starters. It has to be difficult but not impossible to get the answer. Those two concepts really narrow the field. But still, it's hard. And ridiculously fun - or at least it was for us.

I always thought, and still do, that the show should make this way of playing Final Jeopardy! an option. If you chose it and you won, you could triple your wager. If you chose it and missed, you'd lose everything. 

Well. I have not been able to watch "Jeopardy!" since Peter died. And now that Alex Trebec has died, I probably will never watch it again. It makes me sad to know that cancer finally, inevitably, got him. But it is helps me to think of Peter and Alex being together in Heaven, trading answers and questions. And Final Jeopardy guesses.

***

Coda

Nothing Is Far

Though I have never caught the word
of God from any calling bird,
I hear all that the ancients heard. 

Though I have seen no deity
Enter or leave a twilit tree,
I see all that the seers see. 

A common stone can still reveal
Something not stone, not seen, yet real.
What may a common stone conceal? 

Nothing is far that once was near.

Nothing is hid that once was clear.

Nothing was God that is not here. 

Here is the bird, the tree, the stone.

Here in the sun I sit alone

Between the known and the unknown. 

- Robert Francis

Red-Winged Blackbird

 Red-Winged Blackbird / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

sold! 

(The PayPal buttons have just not been working well recently. If the button doesn't work, it might mean that someone else has bought the painting, but it might mean that the button isn't working. So if you want this red-winged blackbird, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com)

WHEN PETER DIED, I lost more than my husband, my partner, my best friend. I have a terrible memory, and Peter had a great one. He could remember the phone numbers of every place we lived. He remembered people from decades ago and what we had for supper last Thursday. 

I could turn to him and ask, "Do you remember that movie with that actress who was in that golf movie and that other guy who played James Bond?" and he would say, "Oh, sure, the 'Thomas Crown Affair.'" 

Usually, by the time I realized that I couldn't remember the name of anyone in the movie, let alone the movie's title, I'd have forgotten whatever it was I wanted to tell him about it. But sometimes I'd remember. And, bless him, he never even teased me about my terrible memory. 

And if I've already written about this, well, see the paragraphs above. 

***

Cards and Calendars 

THE BIRD CARDS AND CALENDARS are going fast! The calendars are $20 plus $2 shipping. Cards (with envelopes) are six to a pack - three vertical, three horizontal. They're blank inside, and have a bird-related quote on the front. They are $10 per pack, plus $2 shipping. Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you want some. I have to say, they came out pretty great!

***

Coda

"If you have a talent, use it in every which way possible. Do not hoard it. Do not dole it out like a miser. Spend it lavishly like a millionaire intent on going broke." 

- Brenda Francis

Three Geese

 

Three Geese / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping! 

sold! 

(If you want this painting and the button doesn't work, you can email me or paypal me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com, and I will mark this painting "sold"! Someone might have gotten there before you, or the PayPal button might just not be working.)

EVERY MORNING, the dogs greet me with delight and unabashed celebration, licking and kissing me, wagging, rolling around on the bed. Doing dog stuff. 

I realized this week, that that morning greeting includes sneezing! Every day, all four dogs sneeze at least once every morning. What a lovely way to start the day. Wish human waking involved a good daily sneeze. 

I TRIED TO EXPLAIN the time change to the dogs this week, and they did not understand. In fact, it made me realize that I truly don't understand why we still do this. 

DOC AND I started dog school last week. My hope is that Doc will learn that while he's on a leash, he shouldn't lunge, barking and snarling, at golf carts, trucks with trailers,  other dogs, or humans holding things in their hands. He seems to be making progress. 

One primary notion of dog school is that I must and can stop him from practicing the behaviors that I don't like. Mostly, this has to do with distracting him with food and positive feedback. I think this concept is entirely applicable to me and my own life, though maybe less with the food and more with the positive feedback. 

Doc, bringing me a toy one morning when I was sad.

***

Coda

"Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen." 

- Orhan Pamuk

Crow Flying

 Crow Flying / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68, including shipping! 

sold! 

THE ONE GOOD THING that I can say about the covid is that it made Halloween easier for me. 

It was Peter's favorite holiday, by a mile. He died last year on Oct. 10, so close to Halloween that I didn't even consider participating. Without the covid, I'd have had to think about it this year, and I am still not ready for that. 

Every year, we decorated for Halloween. With the help of our daughter, who often gave Peter Halloween decorations for Christmas, we amassed a pretty interesting collection, including a toaster with a skeleton hand that pops up when someone walks by; a suitcase with a glowing skull inside that lights up when people come near; and a variety of skeletons, including skeleton humans walking skeleton dogs; and a family of skeleton mice, one of which spent an entire year on a branch of a dogwood in the front yard. 

Peter himself dressed up on Halloween, and took great pleasure in scaring the kids, though he made sure to be gentle and sweet with the wee ones. He also bought all the candy, inevitably three times as much as we could ever give away. He ate it until Easter, most years, loving every calorie. 

I was often away on painting trips in October, and Peter would spend the month taping and watching all the scary movies he could find. I'd come home in time for Halloween to find the DVR filled with horror movies. 

I don't know if I will ever truly enjoy Halloween again. I hope I will. I know I'll never enjoy it in the same way, but that goes for so very much now. I am thankful that, because of the covid, I didn't have to decide anything. And I am thankful that I have the memories of so many Halloweens with someone who loved it so very much. 

***

Coda

"The person born with a talent they are meant to use will find their greatest happiness in using it." 

- Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Cards and Calendars

OOOH! EXCITING!!! I had calendars and cards made from my bird paintings over this year, and they arrived this week. They're really wonderful, if I do say so myself - and I do! 

It's very different for me to see my pieces printed, and to see a bunch of them all together. I make them one at a time, and by and large, they fly away regularly. I rarely see them together, unless one of my collectors sends me a photo. 

So this is very exciting! 

The calendars - I had 50 made - are $20 each plus $2 shipping, if I have to ship. The cards are $10 for a group of six (with envelopes), plus $2 shipping. If you're here, and you pick them up, no shipping. 

To get yours, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com

 

***

Help the Twain House

MY BROTHER, RAND COOPER, is a big supporter of the Mark Twain House. 

Friday, Nov. 6, Rand will emcee a gala, involving an auction of some way cool stuff. He will be introducing David Baldacci, John Grisham, Jodi Picoult and others, and also introducing live performances by Brad Paisley and Jimmy Buffett!

Some of the items you can bid on include 

• Having a character named for you in an upcoming David Baldacci novel (!!!)
• Participate in a virtual meet and greet with NASCAR driver Corey Lajoie
• A first edition of "Huckleberry Finn," or... 
• A pet portrait by ME! 

To see the auction items, and to bid, click here. 

To register for the gala (it's free!), please click here. 

To find out more about the Mark Twain House, click here, or go to marktwainhouse.org.

***

Coda

"Life beats down and crushes the soul, and art reminds you that you have one." 

- Stella Adler

Tufted Titmouse

Tufted Titmouse / Oil on black canvas / 4x4 / $38 including shipping 

Sold 

I HAD A ROUGH TIME last week, and it took me by surprise. 

I need a new laptop, and really want to see Peter's big desktop computer be gone. It took me a year to come to terms with that last fact, but I had. I'd looked for someone, anyone, who would want it, but though it was big and powerful and clear and bright, it was old, and nobody wanted it. So I decided to trade it in, to cut the price of my new laptop a little. 

I have backed up all the files (or at least, I believe I have), and I knew I wanted to cleanse the hard drive before I sent the computer off for credit. So I started the process, and as I sat there and watched it delete 14,000 files, my heart broke again. It felt like I was deleting Peter. Even though it was files, even though I'd backed them up, it still left me weak and weeping. All his art, all his writing, all his funny ideas and photoshopped pictures, all of it gone, in a long blink.

I called my counselor and she helped. Thinking about it and understanding it also helped. And I know there will be more moments like this, more surprise detours into the land of sorrow. I imagine they will continue to take me unawares. But I will get through. 

***

Dog of the Day

DR. COOPER AND I are starting dog school in a couple hours. This morning on our walk, we practiced with the nose leash. Doc didn't love it, but he tolerated it, sort of like all of us with our masks. 

He's a much better behaved dog now than he was a year ago, rarely snapping at anyone unless they have something in their hands or they are a golf cart or a truck with a trailer. Or another dog. And this last issue is the one I hope to solve at dog school. I will report back. 

***

Coda

From "The Weighing"

So few grains of happiness

measured against all the dark

and still the scales balance. 

The world asks of us 

only the strength we have and we give it. 

Then it asks more, and we give it. 

- Jane Hirshfield

Thanks to my friend Heather MacLeod for sending me this. If you want to read the whole poem, please click here.

 from Jane Hirshfield’s splendid poem “The Weighing”:

So few grains of happiness
measured against all the dark
and still the scales balance.

Egret in a Tree

Egret in a Tree / oil on canvas / 4x12 / $88, including shipping

 

sold! 

I WONDER, EVERY YEAR, about the purpose of fruit flies. Every fall, they show up, bothersome and difficult to control. They seem to come out of nowhere. They seem to have no reason for being. I can't imagine that they make anything better. 

I have the identical thoughts, every election time, about political TV ads. 

***

Dog of the Day

I hope this plays. I will also load it on YouTube, so click HERE if you can't play it right from the blog. Every morning on the walk, we take the dogs to the ball park, which is also sort of a dog park. Lulu, amazing, beautiful Lulu, races around the perimeter, just flying! Sometimes Doc goes with her, but lately, he's been staying in the infield and playing with Koko. 

***

Coda

"Color is my daylong obsession, joy and torment." 

- Claude Monet

Eastern Mockingbird

 Eastern Mockingbird / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68

sold! 

YESTERDAY AFTERNOON, I cheered on the sidelines of a neighborhood bocce game, on Wachapreague's new bocce court, over by the firehouse. 

I have no interest in bocce, but it was Jeannie's birthday, and I like Jeannie, and also most of the Wachapreague women (Wachawomen) who participate in these bocce things. And it was a beautiful October day, with golden sunshine and that particular sweet warmth that seems to come only on the heels of a crisp morning. 

And I knew that my friend Liesl - Our Favorite Austrian - would be there. I had a pleasant time, chatting with Liesl and the girls, and as I walked home, I thought about how instrumental she has been in my healing after Peter's death. 

She was one of the first to come by, in those early, awful days. She came with another neighbor, Anne, and they didn't insist on coming in, just stood on the doorstep and told me how sorry they were, gave me a pretty bag, and went away. In the bag was a sympathy card, a bag of chocolates and a bag of dog treats that instantly became my gang's favorite. 

In time, Liesl began to visit, walking into the house, completely unafraid, even though at that point, the dogs were still wild and undisciplined, and Doc responded to his fear of everything by snarling and snapping at people. 

She offered to help with them, and to my amazement, and out of necessity, I agreed to let her help. 

Early in the winter - and it was this that I remembered yesterday - she invited me and a few others to her house for dinner. 

To back up a little, a thing that happened after Peter's death was that I really couldn't see people. For weeks after he died, I didn't let anybody in the house. I drove to Maryland to do my grocery shopping, so that I wouldn't run into anyone I knew. I avoided the post office for so long that the postmistress, a truly kind person, called and asked if I would like her to bring me my mail. I said no, and she volunteered to stay late one day so I could come over after the post office closed, and get my mail, cutting down on the chance of running into anyone. 

I don't understand the mechanisms of my need to see no one. I just knew that I couldn't, and that especially, I couldn't run into people unprepared. 

Little by little, I came out of it, and so, in the winter, I agreed to go to supper at Liesl's. But as the day approached, I realized I couldn't. I could not sit at a table and make conversation with several people I knew only slightly - and, crying, I called her and told her. 

She was as kind as could be, and insisted that I still come - but she would uninvite the others, who all were neighbors, and would understand. And so she did, and so I did. 

I had known Liesl mostly from seeing her walking. She walked pretty much every day, as far as I could tell, sometimes with people, sometimes with people's dogs, sometimes alone - but her walking was a constant. I would admire her, straight and slim, striding - always with very good posture - through town. 

When she asked if I would like to walk with her and the dogs, I said yes, and that, as much as anything, has changed my life, and helped speed and strengthen my recovery. 

We have walked nearly every morning. The dogs have learned some manners, and have started to be socialized. The walks have brought me daily exercise, and fresh air, and have helped me start to be socialized again. They give me a way to start every day. A plan, a task, something regular and manageable. 

They have brought me a friendship, too, which is perhaps the most valuable. Liesl is a good listener, an interesting person, and she makes me laugh. She is an inspiration, too, being helpful to people and animals and asking nothing in return. And she is 80! Often on our walks, I am out of breath and hurrying to catch up, and Our Favorite Austrian is just there, striding along, looking at this or that, laughing at the dogs, enjoying the morning. 

Here is Liesl in the springtime, with Lulu and Koko. We walk three dogs most days, 

and Liesl always takes two. 

***

Grace Note

I Didn't Go to Church Today

I didn't go to church today

I trust the Lord to understand

The surf was swirling blue and white

The children swirling on the sand.

He knows, He knows how brief my stay,

How brief this stay of summer weather,

He knows when I am said and done

We'll have plenty of time together.

- Ogden Nash

Sandpiper in a Clam Shell

Sandpiper in a Shell / Oil on gessoed clam shell / about 6x4 / $68 including shipping

 sold! 

A FEW WEEKS AGO, I went out to walk the dogs in the morning and found my Mexican sunflower plant simply flattened. A storm had blown in the night before, and it looked as though a downdraft - the kind that, in larger events, bring down planes - had hit directly on my pretty plant. 

A later inspection found that the center of the plant was hollow and dried out, probably because of drought and wind earlier in the year, and maybe overwatering, which seems to be my particular plant-related demon of the moment. 

Last week, I heard the something falling, and thought that maybe the floor had actually fallen in somewhere in the house. I looked in every room, and the floors were OK. (Charlie is working on them, and making progress. He has assured me that I won't fall through.)

Later, I found that half of a very old dogwood - one that I knew was on the way out - had broken off, just like that. Inside the tree, the heart was hollow, diseased. 

The metaphorical significance of all this keeps hitting me, though I am not exactly sure what to make of it. I choose optimism, believing that I am being shown that even though the foundation is rotten, even if the heart is sick and sad and broken, even then, there is hope. 

The house is not falling down. The Mexican sunflowers have continued to bloom. The dogwood probably has another few springtimes. And so, maybe I'm being shown that I will be OK, too. 

***

A Note on This Painting

THE PAINTING ABOVE IS AN EXPERIMENT. I don't know how you will display it. I think you might be able to hang it with those Commando sticky hanger things. A plate hanger might work? A small easel? 

If you buy it, I would not advise using it as a place to store things, like keys or earrings or paperclips. I don't think the paint would hold up to use like that. 

All that being said, if you buy it and you're interested in seeing what happens, go ahead and store coins or thumbtacks or whatever in it! Just remember that it's oil paints, not ceramics. 

***

A Last Thought

"There was nowhere to go but everywhere." 

- Jack Kerouac

Cardinal

Cardinal / Oil on black canvas / 8x10 / $120 including shipping

 

DUSK COMES EARLY these days, a thin blue that sinks into orange near the horizon. 

Dawn comes later and later, the lightest purple today, with wisps of brighter clouds just above the treetops. 

The afternoons stretch into a joy of yellow sunlight, the rays low in the sky and warm. It is the perfect time to live here, along the Atlantic Ocean. The summer visitors are gone, and we who live here have the golden marsh, the golden sun, the golden light of October all to ourselves. 

My flowers are still blooming, some - gardenias among them - for the third time this year. There is no traffic; the dogs and Liesl and I walk in the middle of the streets. Cats rest, undisturbed, on sunny front stoops. Windows are open, and I hear someone mowing and smell the sweet scent of grass, for probably one of the last times of the summer. 

Surely, winter will come, with its gray sky and its bleak thoughts. But for now, the days are bright and warm and short enough to be treasured. 

***

A Last Thought

"Autumn... the year's last, loveliest smile." 

- William Cullen Bryant

Crow in a Tree

 

Crow in a Tree /oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68, including shipping

this crow has flown! 

I'VE HAD TROUBLE READING since Peter died. Well, even before "trouble reading," I've had trouble picking up, starting or staying with normal-sized books. 

After Peter died, I gave away his mammoth World War II tomes, his collection of books about the Vikings, his huge library of giant books on poker. Sometimes I teased him that he bought books by weight - the bigger and heavier they were, the more he wanted them. 

He died and I couldn't even open books. Eventually, I began to be able to open slim volumes. A friend lent me her Winnie-the-Pooh books and they started me reading again. 

Poetry pulled at me, and I could handle poems, and books of poetry, in much the same way that I could handle bird paintings. These things were small and manageable. I could see the end from the beginning, and that felt important. That felt like a lifeline.

This weekend, I borrowed a small book - "Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart " by Gordon Livingston. Its subtitle is "Thirty True Things You Need to Know Now." Yes, pop psychology/philosophy, I know. It is small, and fascinating. 

Here is a thought I encountered that got me thinking this morning, and which I wanted to share: "The three components of happiness are something to do, someone to love and something to look forward to." 

And I guess that encapsulates my "A Last Thought," too. 

***

Dog of the Day

Last week, Doc decided that I was sad and needed a toy. 

Red-Winged Blackbird

Red-winged Blackbird / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68, including shipping

sold! 

SO, I MADE IT THROUGH. 

Made it through a year of firsts, without Peter. From the first Halloween - his favorite holiday - to our first wedding anniversary without him, to my first painting without him, my first show without him, my first trip without him, and what felt like a million more firsts, I made it through. I am so very relieved that this horrible year of horrible firsts is over and done with. 

Many of you helped, and I am, and will always be, grateful. 

Thank you.

***

A Last Thought

"The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief. But the pain of grief is only a shadow 

when compared with the pain of never risking love."

- Hillary Stanton Zunin

Morning in the Hills

Morning in the Hills / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68, including shipping!  

sold!

(I've been having trouble with the PayPal buttons recently, so if you want this painting and the button doesn't seem to work, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com - thank you!)

THE OTHER DAY, I HEARD MYSELF LAUGH, and I realized that I hadn't laughed since Peter died. I hadn't laughed in almost a year. The recognition of that fact shocked me.

And then I felt guilty for laughing, for feeling good enough and happy enough to laugh, when Peter was dead, and not here to laugh with me. 

And then I told myself that he would want me to laugh. He loved to make me laugh, and he did it better and more often than anyone in my life ever has. It's one of the reasons I loved him so much. He was gruff, and often, a curmudgeon. He was a Finn, and he had depression, and was often quite dark. But still, he was the funniest person I've met - partly because he was so smart. And so twisted.

And he could be so silly. Here's a photo montage he made of himself - for no apparent reason - just because it made him laugh, and he knew it would make me laugh, too. 

I've laughed a few more times since, and it feels awkward in my heart. But I will think of him in his pink tutu, in his many hats, in his white boots, making his dry, hilarious comments about people and the world, and I'll know that he wants me to live, to enjoy my life, to sing, to sleep well and eat well and probably most of all, to laugh. 

***

A Last Thought

    October

O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;

Tomorrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild,

Begin the hours of this day slow.

Make the day seem to us less brief.

Hearts not averse to being beguiled,

Beguile us in the way you know.

Release one leaf at break of day;

At noon release another leaf;

One from our trees, one far away.

Retard the sun with gentle mist;

Enchant the land with amethyst.

Slow, slow!

For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,

Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,

Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—

For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

- Robert Frost

Blue Jay

 Blue Jay / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

(I've been having trouble with the PayPal buttons, so if you want to buy this lovely little bluejay and the button doesn't work, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com!)

THE SUMMER'S HUMMINGBIRDS left on Thursday. I put new nectar out at the start of the week, and I saw hummers at the feeders through Wednesday, and then - none. 

They were my friends and companions here all summer, humming around my head, entertaining me with their antics at the feeder, amazing me with their speed and agility. 

How I miss them! 

Saturday is the one-year anniversary of Peter's death. When the hummingbirds left, it felt like they took summer with them. When he died, it felt like he took everything with him. 

So I am going away, with my friend Carol and her mother, to a clean Air B&B where we stay every year during the show in Crozet. There's no show, but we had the reservation, and so we are going anyways. He would be proud of me. 

***

A Final Thought

 Thank You

If you find yourself half naked

and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing, 

again, the earth's great, sonorous moan that says

you are the air of the now and gone, that says

all you love will turn to dust,

and will meet you there, do not

raise your fist. Do not raise

your small voice against it. And do not

take cover. Instead, curl your toes

ito the grass watch the cloud

ascending from your lips. Walk

through the garden's dormant splendor.

Say only, thank you. 

Thank you. 

- Ross Gay

Hummingbird on Broken Branch

Hummingbird on Broken Branch / oil on black canvas, 5x7 / $68 including shipping

(I've been having trouble lately with the PayPal buttons. If this one seems not to work, and you want to buy this hummer, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com)

SOMETIMES, WHEN PEOPLE BUY a serious number of paintings from me, I like to include a little thank-you gift. These run the gamut from interesting things I've found to interesting things I've bought. 

One of the latter is a book of postcards about missing President Barak Obama. I think these are wonderfully fun and funny - but, of course, should only be sent to Democrats. 

Usually, it's fairly easy to tell someone's political party - but not always! And the last thing I would want to do is send a thank-you gift that irritated the recipient. So if I really can't tell, I send something else - or I ask. 

The other day, I asked, and suddenly, it felt like an incredibly invasive question. In recent memory, it would have been a nothing question. A "what-did-you-have-for-lunch" question. This time, it occurred to me that it felt like something along the lines of asking whether the person was wearing underwear. You're pretty sure you know the answer, but what if you're wrong? Won't you wish you never asked?

***

A Last Thought

"Instead of worrying about what you cannot control, shift your energy to what you can create." 

- Roy T. Bennett

Canada Goose Revisited

 Canada Goose / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

sold!

If the paypal button doesn't work and you want to buy this sweet goose, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com

FIRST, I'D LIKE TO KNOW when toothpaste tubes got so small. Toothpaste seems to be more expensive than ever, and the tubes are teeny! I know the same thing has happened to individual cups of yogurt, and to Chunky candy bars, and some soda bottles and heaven knows what else, but it was the toothpaste that got me going the other day in WalMart. 

Dismayed at the price vs. size ratio, I looked for maybe not the absolute cheapest, not some Toothless Abner's Dental Polish, but a known name, middle-of-the-road price. I chose Crest in a pathetically small blue box for nearly $4. 

When I opened it, the toothpaste was black! Well, maybe a deep, deep purple - but really, it was black. I thought it had gone bad. But, wait, can toothpaste go bad? I never knew it could. It smelled OK - and what would toothpaste smell like if it HAD gone bad? Pickles? Garlic? - so I used it. 

Turns out it is charcoal-based. Ugh. Really. Ick. It makes black foam in your mouth. Disgusting. 

Sometimes new is just not better. 

***

Coming Up

AN OCCASION FOR THE ARTS virtual show takes place this weekend, Oct. 3-4. I will be doing a live Zoom presentation each day at 11 a.m., and this will be re-zoomed on the AOFTA (https://aofta.org/) website at noon. You can reach my live sessions through the AOFTA website, which is probably the easiest way to see them, but if you want me to send you the link, please drop me an email at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com. 

I'll probably be painting, and will give a tour of the studio, but mostly I'll be there to talk with you, to show you particular paintings you might like to see, and answer any questions you might have. 

Paintings on my website (Jacobson Arts - http://jacobson-arts.com) will be on sale during the show, and shipping or delivery will be free!  

***

A Last Thought

"How do geese know when to fly to the sun? Who tells them the seasons? How do we humans know when it is time to move on? As with the migrant birds, so surely with us, there is a voice within, if only we would listen to it, that tells us certainly when to go into the unknown."

- Elizabeth Kubler Ross