House Sparrow

House Sparrow / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68, including shipping

Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you'd like this painting

LAST WEEK, I heard a spring bird, singing wildly, singing beautifully, repeating her song again and again as night spun off into dawn. 

She made me happy, this one bird, singing as though there were no tomorrows and no yesterdays, as though everything that possibly could be right in the world was indeed right in the world. 

She made me smile, and made me realize that, in my heavy, plodding two-footed, wingless life, in fact, everything is as right as it could possibly be. 

***

Coda

"Ambition is the spur that makes man struggle with destiny. It is heaven's own incentive 

to make purpose great and achievement greater." 

- Donald G. Mitchell

 

Nuthatch, Perched

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

Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you'd like to have this cutie! 

IN THIS LIFE ALONE, and with the covid, and with the terrible memory I've always had, I've had to find ways to remember to do things. 

A calendar, of course, is a great start, but doesn't work unless I first remember to write stuff down on it, and then remember to look at it. 

I've come to terms with my Alexa device, and use her more and more often to remind me about things - including feeding the dogs. Peter always fed the dogs, and many times after he died, I couldn't remember if I had or hadn't. You'd think they would let me know, but dogs are all about the food. A second dinner would not be a problem for them. Any time during the course of the day, if I rattle their food bowls, they are ready and barking. 

I've learned to count the dogs out loud, not only when they come in, but also when I give them their we-came-in-the-house cookies. Yes, several times, I left one or two of them outside for longer than I should have. Same with leaving the studio. Poor Woody was locked in there for hours on several occasions. Luckily, he is pretty much blind and pretty much deaf, and sleeps pretty much 23 hours a day, so he didn't know - but I was in a panic. 

I have learned that when paintings sell, I should move them from one side of the studio to the other. From the drying wall to the sold wall. More than once, I've sold a painting twice, and have had to make amends.

Lately, I've developed a few tricks to keep myself more or less civilized. I leave the bathroom light on in the morning to remind myself to brush my teeth. 

I load my pockets with gloves and fresh tissues when I come IN from walking the dogs, since I can't seem to remember to make sure I have those things when I go out to walk them. 

But still, I lose things and forget. Months ago, I put my favorite coffee cup somewhere, and have never found it. Last week, I took out a can of potatoes (did you know they made such a thing? I didn't, but got a few cans a while ago for a recipe that required them. They did the job, but are really not very good, so I've been feeding them to Woody, who needs fiber in his diet.) I put that can of potatoes down somewhere and have yet to find it. 

What tricks have you all learned during this covid year, to keep yourselves from slipping off the edge? 

***

Coda

I Go Down to the Shore

I go down to the shore in the morning

and depending on the hour the waves

are rolling in or moving out,

and I say, oh, I am miserable,

what shall--

what should I do? And the sea says

in its lovely voice:

Excuse me, I have work to do.

- Mary Oliver

Magpie on a Curved Branch

Magpie on a Curved Branch / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

sold

I FIRST ENCOUNTERED MAGPIES when Peter and I moved to Idaho. They're such amusing birds! They're large - or at least the ones we had in Boise were - bigger than crows. They look quite formal, their coloring always making me think of tuxedos. The black of their feathers is a deep, deep blue-black, flashing turquoise and even a little green in the right light. 

And they're very smart - according to Wikipedia, one of the few non-mammal species able to recognize themselves in a mirror. Heck, some days, I can't even do that. 

They used to strut around the yard, squawking and carrying on, and they knew our schedules, knew the dogs, knew when we would fill the feeders and take out the trash. It was fun to remember how we laughed at and about them. 

***

Coda

Was It Necessary to Do It? 

I tell you that ant is very alive!

Look at how he fusses at being stepped on. 

- Mary Oliver

 

Hawk

 

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

sold

MY FRIEND SUSAN MCGUIRE and I are have launched a painting-project page on Facebook. Susan is a wonderful painter, who uses all media but mostly, these days at least, watercolors. So our page is called Oil & Water, and you can find it on Facebook. Everything on the page, her work and mine, is $68 including shipping - and for you bird-painting fans, there are some bird paintings there that I haven't posted here yet. Click here to go to Oil & Water on Facebook! 

Some of the bird paintings on the new page come from a challenge I gave myself, early in January - to paint 10 birds in a day. I did it - but just by the skin of my teeth (and that is an odd phrase, if you stop to think about it!) 

You artists might consider making some nearly unattainable challenge to yourselves, especially if you are feeling dull or blocked. I had been painting a lot, in November and December -  all commissions. I love commissions, but a steady stream of them - painting other people's ideas, other people's desires - can blunt my own ideas, and somehow shorten my sense of direction and flow. For me, at least, there's nothing like a huge challenge to kick out the jams. 

And it needn't be a challenge of numbers, of quantity. I've challenged myself to use odd colors, minimal colors, only yellows, only large knives, only small knives, only straight strokes, only curving strokes, only 30 minutes, only 60 minutes. 

Once I tried to make a painting with strokes that went in a huge spiral out from a spot that was off-center. My aim was to stick to the pattern, while putting the colors, light, shadow in the right places. It didn't work, but continues to interest me as an idea. I think it involves too much planning for me, and feels too much like math. One of you might like to try it. Please send me the photo if you do! 

***

Coda

An Old Story

Sleep comes its little while. Then I wake

in the valley of midnight or three a.m.

to the first fragrance of spring

which is coming, all by itself, no matter what.

My heart says, what you thought you have you do not have.

My body says, will this pounding ever stop?

My heart says: there, there, be a good student.

My body says: let me up and out, I want to fondle

those soft white flowers, open in the night. 

- Mary Oliver

Bald Eagle

 

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

Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you would like to own this painting

SOMETIMES, I HEAR an eagle call, here in Wachapreague. They are around - I've seen them flying over the yard several times, and, many times, in the fields nearby.

 One Sunday morning, I watched one devour a deer that had been killed on the Wachapreague Road. He stayed there for longer than I could, and he was apparently unafraid of me - or at least, willing to tamp down his fear in the face of such bounty. 

The bald eagle was chosen as the emblem of America on June 20,  1782, because of his strength and good looks, and because it existed nowhere but on this continent. 

Benjamin Franklin derided the selection, calling the bald eagle a bird of "bad moral character." The bald eagle, Franklin wrote, "does not get his living honestly, you may see him perched on some dead tree, where, too lazy to fish for himself, he watches the labor of the fishing-hawk, and when that diligent bird has at length taken a fish, and is bearing it to his nest for the support of his mate and young ones, the bald eagle pursues him and takes it from him..." 

Franklin goes on (you can read more here) and suggests that the turkey would be a better choice. 

Lazy carrion-eaters though they may be, their majesty always captures my heart. 

***

Coda

"A year from now, you will wish you had started today." 

- Karen Lamb

White Hawk

White Hawk / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

sold!

LAST NIGHT, AS I WENT TO BED, red lights started flashing on the tree limbs first, then the houses, then the street itself, and I watched as an ambulance and then a police car pulled up at the corner of Pearl and South streets. 

It instantly brought me back to the night that Peter had his heart attack, here, in the living room. The ambulance came - and was there a police car? I have no idea. EMTs came in and hustled to Peter, did things to him, put him in some sort of gurney chair. The lights flashed and flashed and flashed. Dave, a neighbor who has moved away, just walked in through the open door, and in the moment, I hated him, for intruding, for coming in uninvited, for offering to help. 

Last night, all of this rushed back and I turned away and went to bed, hoping only that whichever neighbor was in trouble would be OK. 

Today, I found out that it was a very nice man, Gene, and that he apparently had been badly dehydrated and would, indeed, be alright. Whew. 

***

Dad

DAD IS BETTER, after a pretty scary few days. He is still in the hospital, and is still far from well, but he was sitting up today, and I hear he watched football on Sunday. 

There is no talking to him. He has a phone in his room but it only calls out, and he apparently can't make it work without help. And there is little to no help. The hospital seems to be tremendously overloaded, probably with covid patients; it took my stepmother five hours the other day to get anyone to answer her call. 

Thank you for your kind words and for your prayers. I believe it all helps, and I hope you will all keep thinking healing thoughts for Dear Old Dad. 

***

Coda

Alone I Stare into Frost's White Face

Alone I stare into frost's white face.
It's going nowhere, and I -- from nowhere.
Everything ironed flat, pleated without a wrinkle:
Miraculous, the breathing plain.

Meanwhile, the sun squints at the starched poverty --
The squint itself, consoled, at ease ...
The ten-fold forest almost the same ...
And snow crunches in the eyes, innocent, like clean bread. 

- Osip Mandlestam

First Robin of Spring

 First Robin of Spring / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping! 

Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you'd like to own this hopeful little painting

I HAVEN'T SEEN spring's first robin yet this year, but this week, I heard the songs of spring birds, sweet and warm on a sunny, frosty morning. 

Last week, I saw snow geese high above, calling to each other as they soared. I haven't seen a field full of them yet this winter, but I always look. It is such a miracle. 

And in the theme of bird miracles, there are two hummingbirds still in town. Honestly, I thought I was losing it a little when I caught a swoop out of the corner of my eye, but the homeowner came along and said yes, a pair of hummers was seeming to spend the winter in Wachapreague. Some trees and bushes still are flowering, and though it's been cold (to my now-wimpy-Southern but former tough-New-England-girl self), I guess it's not been cold enough to do them any harm. I hope they don't get trapped here and damaged by an Arctic blast. 

***

Coda

"Change your thoughts and you change your world." 

- Norman Vincent Peale

Carolina Wren

Carolina Wren / oil on black canvas/ 4x12 / $88, including shipping

sold! 

MY DAD IS 92, and right now, is in the hospital in Tucson. He has aspiration pneumonia - not covid, according to four covid tests, all of which have been negative. 

Sunday, he was doing better, sitting up, watching football. Today, he can't swallow. 

He is 92, and before this, was doing well. A couple days pre-pneumonia, he and his wife went out and walked a mile, and Dad said he was feeling great. Pain that had plagued him for the past few months had gone away, the day was beautiful and he was happy. 

He has had a good life, and neither he nor Paula, not any of us, is ready for it to be over. Who among us ever is? I am concentrating on how strong he is, what good genes he has, how remarkable his optimism and resilience are, and how he cherishes his life and his wife.

So, think a good thought, say a small prayer, hold your loved ones close and live every moment as fully and richly as you can. 

***

Coda

"Life isn't about getting and having; it's about giving and being." 

- Kevin Kruse

 

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

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

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.

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

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

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

Hummer by Orange Flowers

 Hummer by Orange Flowers / oil on black canvas / 5x7, unframed / $68 including shipping

This bird has flown!

HERE ARE SOME FUN FACTS about hummingbirds, from Kaytee.com 

• They are the smallest migrating bird, but don't migrate in flocks. Typically, a hummer will travel alone for up to 500 miles at a stretch.  
• The name comes from the humming noise their wings make.
• They're the only birds that can fly backwards.
• Hummingbirds have no sense of smell, but have great color vision. Different varieties prefer different colored flowers. The ruby-throated hummer likes orange or red flowers best - but red dye should not be used in nectar as it could harm the birds. Instead, plant naturally red or orange flowers or use feeders that have red coloring in their structure.
• Your average hummingbird weighs less than a nickel. 
• They use their legs only for perching and moving sideways on a perch. They can't walk or hop. 
• A hummer drinks from a feeder by moving its tongue in and out - about 13 times a second. That hummer can drink double its body weight in a day. 
• The female typically lays two eggs only. They're about the size of jellybeans, and have been found in nests smaller than a half-dollar. Some varieties, like the black-chinned hummingbird, make nests with plant down, spider silk or other materials that can expand as their babies grow. 
• A group of hummers can be referred to as a flock, a bouquet, a glittering, a hover, a shimmer or a tune.
• There are more than 330 species of hummingbirds in North and South America! 

For more, see https://www.kaytee.com/learn-care/wild-bird/hummingbird-facts.

***

A Last Thought 

"If you have 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

Great Blue Heron

 

Great Blue Heron / Oil on black canvas / 4x12 / $88 including shipping

sold! 

BENEATH THE FLOOR of my house, the beams and joists are crumbling. 

I found out a few months ago that this was happening, and I thought that the work I had had done had fixed it. But part of the living room floor started sagging when I stepped on it, and it turns out that the issue is far worse than I'd thought. 

The major load-bearing beams of the house need to be replaced, as do most of the rest of the joists and possibly even the sills. Ugh. 

For about a year and a half before Peter died, I had made a practice of being grateful. "In every thing, give thanks," is what I had aimed - and still aim - to do. At the beginning, it felt impossible, but I found ways. Saw glimmers of a new way to live. I lost the thread for a while after Peter died, but I have become grateful for many, many things about his death, including that it was as fast as it was. For me, perhaps, that was worse - but maybe not? Certainly for him, it was better than any lingering, awful demise. 

I am grateful that the house hasn't fallen down, and that I haven't fallen through the floor. I am grateful that I have the money to fix it, though it was money I was counting on having to live on. But I have some Social Security, and some savings even after I pay for all of this, and I am selling paintings. I have great faith that I will be OK. And I am grateful for that. 

After all, this heron doesn't know what the future brings, and he doesn't let it worry him. He just gets out there and goes to work. And that's what I shall do, too. 

***

A Last Thought

"Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers; pray for powers equal to your tasks. The the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be a miracle."

- Philiphs Brooks

Kingfisher on Branch

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

Sold!

I'VE OFTEN WISHED that I had just a little of the clean-house type of OCD that several of my friends have. Their homes are always sparkling. The downside is that messiness is a truly troubling stress for them, and one that takes a psychic and spiritual toll. But their houses always look great - and sometimes I think it would be worth the tradeoff. 

Recently, I've come to realize that in addition to being not talented at house-cleaning, and not really interested in it, I'm a little fascinated by the progression of dust and dog hair on surfaces in my house. 

There are places in the house where dog hair, particularly, collects. It must have something to do with the architecture of the house and the traffic patterns and the way the breeze comes through. I'm sure all of you with pets have places like this in your houses, spots where there is always, always dog hair. I sweep or vacuum or wipe with a paper towel, and 20 minutes later, dog hair. 

A friend gave me a pretty yellow chair with curved wooden legs, and I put it where Peter's couch used to stand, in the corner of the living room. The dog hair used to collect under his couch, but you couldn't see it, because the skirt of the couch cover came down to the floor. 

Now, there's only bare floor, and I find myself watching with fascination as the dog hair piles up beneath the chair, layer by layer. I left it for a couple weeks recently, just to see what would happen, and I ended up with a sort of pelt of hair beneath the yellow chair. It was wonderfully rewarding to clean it up! 

***

A Last Thought

"Tides are like politics. They come and go with a great deal of fuss and noise, but inevitably they leave the beach just as they found it. On those few occasions when major change does occur, 

it is rarely good news." 

- Jack Mcdevitt