Little Bluebird

Little Bluebird / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

sold! 

THE BIRDS ARE FLOCKING UP, getting ready to head south. In fact, I think they are already on the wing; I've seen different birds in the yard these past few hot days, birds I haven't seen since spring. 

It doesn't feel like autumn, but I know it's coming. The gardens have dried and faded. The summer's brilliance, in the sun and in the flowers, has subsided. The days are shorter, not as bright, the sunshine not as harsh, not quite as brutal as it was in July. In the studio, I barely need the north-facing room-darkening curtains that made it possible to be in there this summer.

This year, more than any, I welcome this coming of autumn, as slight and early as it might be. I long to live with open windows, to walk out into a fresh, crisp morning, to see a night sky free of summer haze. I won't get the beautiful fall colors of New England here, but there will be some red trees, and lots of gold, and the light will become more rounded, more orange, more pink. 

And maybe I will go somewhere, like the birds.

***

Dog of the Day

This is a photo Peter made, of Abby (in the lead) and Koko, racing around the backyard. Abby is living with our daughter Erika now, and is as happy as can be. 

***

For Today

"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show." 

- Andrew Wyeth

Bluebird on Post

Bluebird on Post / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 includes shipping

sold!

I LOVE TIE-DYE. I always have, though up until a few years ago, I hadn't worn it in decades. But I had a couple pieces, and after I saw Peter wearing interesting combinations of prints and colors, I decided to start wearing my tie-dye pieces again.

Not only did I not worry if I had an interesting pattern on the top and a different interesting pattern on the bottom, I began seeking different interesting patterns - what a friend's mother used to call "fancies." One fancy was fine, she would tell him, but two fancies were a no-no. Whenever possible, I go for three fancies. Or more! 

A few years ago, I found a maker of wonderful tops - Cranky Girl Tie Dye (https://www.etsy.com/shop/CrankyGirlTieDye). I have bought Ts and sweatshirts from her for years. Peter was cremated in one of my Cranky Girl sweatshirts. He loved it when I wore that sweatshirt, and he coveted it, so it seemed right to send it with him. 

Late last year, I realized that I could get tie-dye pants, if I hunted for them. And I did have to hunt, but I found a marvelous maker! Her name is Carmen, and she is also on Etsy, at Ogeechee River Tie Dye (https://www.etsy.com/shop/ogeecheerivertiedye/) 

In the photo of Doc and me by the Dogfish sign, which I believe I posted recently, I am wearing Ogeechee River Tie Dye pants and a Cranky Girl tie-dye top. And my jacket makes a third fancy! 

The bluebird in the painting comes from a photo that Carmen took in her backyard! 

***

For Today

"The world cares very little about what a man or woman knows; 

it is what a man or woman is able to do that counts." 

- Booker T. Washington

Mrs. Bluebird

 Mrs. Bluebird / oil on black canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 including shipping

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IN THE MORNINGS, my friend Liesl and I walk three of my four dogs. Sometimes, we take Woody, but he is 14, mostly blind and mostly deaf, and, while he wants to go on the walks, and is pretty much capable of them, he is a menace, weaving all over the place on his leash, and stopping again and again, to poop in the middle of the road, or just to stop. It is a small miracle that I haven't fallen over him and broken things, on one or both of us.

I think that Liesl (our favorite Austrian) has a well-ordered and calm life - outside of the chaos of Doc, Lulu and Koko. And so it is doubly great that she helps me walk them. 

For months, we have been letting Koko and Doc run around in a little park along the marsh. At first, it was just Koko, with her leash trailing behind. Then we let Doc run, again with his leash trailing. I call them to me, again and again, and reward them with treats, and they've been learning. And the leashes are off.

But yesterday was a beautiful, sunny, breezy day, and Doc decided it was a perfect day to romp off, scamper through yards and pretend that I was calling him in some foreign language, or maybe in a totally inaudible voice. 

Wachapreague is a place without many cars, though there are some, and at that time of the morning, in that part of town, there are usually no dogs out. So it ended up OK, with Doc cavorting back not to me but to Liesl, who had Koko and Lulu on their leashes. 

After the excitement, I said that I was mad at Doc, and exasperated. 

"Why would he run off like that?" I asked. "He knows better!" 

And Liesl told me to be happy that he had come back, and to not take it personally. "It was a beautiful day and he decided it was a good day for a run," she said. "It had nothing to do with you."

Of course, she is right. And so I will make every effort to remember this incident in the future - and not only when the situation is dog-related. 

***

Would you please do me a favor?

SOMETIME THIS WEEK or next, when you read one of these blogs that you like, would you please send it to one or two friends and ask them to sign up to receive it by email? I would really appreciate it. 

The email sign up box is on the right hand side of the blog - http://carriejacobson.blogspot.com

It means a great deal to me when people read what I write, and also when they buy my paintings. The more people who see the blog, the better my chances of finding happy readers and happy buyers. 

Thank you! 

***

For Today

"Every work of art which really moves us is in some degree a revelation - it changes us." 

- Lawren Harris

Bluebird Landing

Bluebird Landing / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 unframed / $68 includes shipping

sold! 

TONIGHT,  AS I WITE THIS, I am tired. My 64th birthday, my first without Peter, was Saturday, and while friends and family helped make it as happy as it possibly could be, I am glad it's over. It was the last of the first-year-without-him celebrations. And so they are done, and I am thankful.

When I went out to the studio in the morning, carrying a vase of roses to paint, and carrying my laptop, my coffee and my phone, and with the dogs running and romping around me, I heard voices singing Happy Birthday. I saw my friend Liz Ford, with two of her friends, walking across the yard. Liz is from Harborton, and was in Wachapreague playing pickle ball on our court, and the three were headed out for a walk when they saw me. Liz knew it was my birthday, and so they sang and waved and gave me long-distance hugs. 

Later in the day, my friend Liesl had a small party for me at her house, with a few friends from the neighborhood. She made two delicious cakes, and people brought presents, even though I asked them not to. 

My family called, and left video and voice-mail Happy Birthday songs. Erika called and we had a good, long talk. Ashton, my youngest grandson, gave me beautiful earrings that he bought with his own money from his Home Depot job. My sister sent me granola. Hundreds of Facebook friends wished me a happy day. Today, another friend brought cake, and there were more Happy Birthday voice mails, and people sending love and good wishes from all over. 

Truly, I am lucky to have such people in my life, who care so much about me. Thank you, all of you. You made it as happy a day as it could be. But it was exhausting - and I am glad it's over. 

Let this day, Sunday, the day after all the celebrating, be the first day of a new year. The first day of a better year - for all of us. 

***

For Today

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium, and will be lost." 

- Martha Graham

Mountain Bluebird with Delphiniums

Mountain Bluebird with Delphiniums / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 includes shipping

sold! 

WOODY, THE SMALLEST of my four dogs, has a pretty huge personality. He is a stalwart little guy, weighing in at about 13 pounds, but taking up three or four times that space in character and grit.

He's 14, and he is mostly deaf and mostly blind. He can see a little, but probably just big shapes and shifting patterns of light and dark. But this doesn't faze him. He begs to go on walks with the other three, he entreats The Demons to play with him, he barks at the fence with as much ferocity as he can muster - and he has finally, after nine years, decided that the studio is not a dog-killing room, but the Best Place on Earth to hang out.

My house here in Wachapreague started its life as a grocery store elsewhere in town, and was moved to this spot about 50 years ago. It's not a big house, but it has a huge living room, which I imagine was the main shopping area of the grocery store. It's big enough that Peter had one couch, and I had another - and there's still plenty of room for a dining-room table (where we piled junk and never ate), two dog crates, a couple bookshelves, etc.

Now that Peter is gone, I want to change things. I want to move that dining room table so that in the evenings, I can sit there and make cards, or paint glassware, or do whatever crafty project I'm involved in. That means getting rid of Peter's couch. So I moved it to the back of the room, moved the dining room table, and then changed the other stuff around.

And now, of course, Woody's well-worn and well-known paths through the living room don't work.

He is not bumping into things, but he is finding dead ends. I had to show him a way around some furniture that was partly blocking one of his favorite routes. He likes to sleep under the coffee table, and it took him a while to find it. He is mixed up, uncomfortable and hesitant.

I feel much the same, about the room, about my life. Neither, right now, is the way I want it. I'm not crashing into things, but I'm not sure where I'm going, either. And like Woody, I haven't found my comfort yet.

But that little dog is a trouper, and he does not complain. He will find his way. I will, too.

***

For Today

"If we did all the things we were capable of, we would literally astound ourselves." 

-Thomas Edison 

Mountain Bluebird

Mountain Bluebird / Oil on black canvas, unframed / 5x7 / $68 includes shipping

I HAD A LOW WEEK last week. It was nothing big. But given Peter's death, I've felt pretty buoyant during these weeks of isolation and virtual quarantine. Last week, I felt lonely. 

Then a friend called, someone I hadn't heard from in a while, someone whose husband had died far more recently than Peter, and she mentioned that she had made a list of people to call regularly, and I was on it. 

That prompted me to make a little list myself, and start calling and writing to my friends and my family, and it helped. 

Drinking more water seemed to help, as did adding more protein into my diet, and sleeping a bit more. I've been walking pretty much every day, and I know that that helps. 

I lightened up on myself a little. If I don't have a bird for every single day this week, it's OK. I have a couple that haven't sold, and I can bring them back for another go. Or I can skip a day, or two, or a week - or just stop (but I don't want to do this). 

I want to have an online sale in time for Mother's Day, and I will - but it doesn't have to start today. It can start tomorrow or the next day or the day after that. 

If the house isn't exactly as clean as it could be, well, too bad. Same with the studio. Same with the dogs. And the bathroom. And the laundry. 

So I thought all this, and did all this, and realized all this, and I began to feel a little better. A little bouncier. A little more like myself, whatever that is in this post-Peter world. 

I guess my point in all of this is that this is a tough time for everyone. We would do ourselves good, I think, if we remembered more often that we are fragile, and fallible, and that we need friends and family and contact with people, in whatever ways we can get it. 

No matter how I may welcome the quiet of this time of isolation - and I do - I know I need to hear another voice, read another person's words, listen to someone else's thoughts and heart, if I am to know and accept my own, and go on with some light and some hope. 

***

Gratitude

I AM GRATEFUL to have realized all of this, and particularly grateful to the friend who called and reminded me to reach out for my own good mental and spiritual health. 

***

For Today

Percy Wakes Me

Percy wakes me and I am not ready.

He had slept all night under the covers.

Now he's eager for action: a walk, then breakfast.

So I hasten up. He is sitting on the kitchen counter

   where he is not supposed to be.

How wonderful you are, I say. How clever, if you

   needed me,

      to wake me.

He thought he would hear a lecture and deeply

   his eyes begin to shine.

He tumbles onto the couch for more compliments.

He squirms and squeals; he has done something

   that he needed

      and now he hears that it is okay.

I scratch his ears, I turn him over

   and touch him everywhere. He is

wild with the okayness of it. Then we walk, then

   he has breakfast, and he is happy.

This is a poem about Percy.

This is a poem about more than Percy.

Think about it.

- Mary Oliver

from "Dog Songs"

Mrs. Bluebird

Mrs. Bluebird / Oil on black canvas / 5x5 unframed / $68 includes shipping

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IN THE YARD, the lilac bush is just about to bloom. Already, its aroma scents the air, catapulting me back to childhood, and springtime in New London, Connecticut, and the lilac bush in our front yard. 

I think it was three bushes, actually - a stand of lilacs - which my mother pruned annually, until they were graceful and willowy, the blooms fairly high, the bases of the bushes mostly branchless. 

That's how I remember them, anyways, though that does conflict with another memory - my brother and I being allowed to take our dinner of stuffed peppers out into the yard, so that we could sneak around behind the lilac bushes and hide the hideous, fleshy stuffed peppers there. I'd rather go hungry than eat them - then, and now. 

At any rate, here in Wachapreague, the lilacs will bloom tomorrow or the next day, and I will set up in the back yard and paint them. I will cut the blooms off and put them all over the house, and for days or a week, or however long the magic lasts, I will rejoice in this deepest, sweetest, most tender taste of spring. And I will watch for the bluebirds.

***

Gratitude

Today, I am grateful, so grateful for the sunshine. The day was cold, the wind was cold, but the sun was out, and lifted my heart and spirits. 

***

For Today

"The very idea of a bird is a symbol and a suggestion to the poet. A bird seems to be at the top of the scale, so vehement and intense is his life, large-brained, large-lunged, hot, ecstatic, his frame charged with buoyancy and his heart with song."

- John Burroughs, naturalist

Bluebird on Redbud

Bluebird on Redbud / oil on black canvas / 8x10 / $98 including shipping

sold

HERE IN WACHAPREAGUE, the bluebirds are back. I've only seen two, and those were mere glimpses, but there's nothing else that is quite that particular blue.

My backyard feeders are full of seeds and full of hungry birds. No social distancing here! I am glad to see them back, eating their full, chattering, lighting the yard with color. No bluebirds have come to the feeder yet, but I remain hopeful and watchful.

***

For Today

The Dipper

Once I saw

in a quick-falling, white-veined stream,

among the leafed islands of the wet rocks,

a small bird, and knew it

from the pages of a book; it was

the dipper, and dipping he was,

as well as, sometimes, on a rock-peak, starting up

the clear, strong pipe of his voice; at this,

there being no words to transcribe, I had to

bend forward, as it were,

into his frame of mind, catching

everything I could in the tone,

cadence, sweetness, and briskneww

of his affirmative report.

Though not by words, it was

a more than satisfactory way to the

bridge of understanding. This happened

in Colorado

more than a half century ago - 

more certainly, than half my lifetime ago -

and, just as certainly, he has been sleeping for decades

in the leaves beside the stream,

his crumble of white bones, his curl of flesh

comfortable even so. 

And I still hear him - 

and whenever I open the ponderous book of riddles

he sits with his black feet hooked to the page,

his eyes cheerful, still burning with water-love - 

and thus the world is full of leaves and feathers

and comfor, and instruction. I do not even remember

your name, great river, 

but since that hour I have lived

simply,

in the joy of the body as full and clear

as falling water; the pleasures of the mind

like a dark bird dipping in and out, tasting and singing. 

- Mary Oliver

This Must Be Love

This Must Be Love / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

sold! 

OF COURSE, IT'S NEXT TO IMPOSSIBLE to ignore the economic calamity that this virus is forcing on so many Americans, including myself and so many of my friends and family members. 

But there are some positive aspects to the situation. Without all the airplanes, the air is clearer. Probably the temperature of the planet will drop noticeably - it did after 9/11, and it wouldn't surprise me if it did now.

I find that, for me, at least, it is OK to be not rushing all over the place all the time. Meetings I go to, gatherings I attend, they're just not happening.

I'm not shopping anywhere near as much as I usually do, and neither is anyone else. But when I am in the grocery stores, I find that people are talking to each other, and laughing, and living together in this shared new moment.

On the streets of my little town, the same thing is happening. It seems everyone is walking, and neighbors are stopping neighbors, just to chat, to discuss the virus - or NOT the virus - and to take a moment to slow down and really ask about life.

I know that this is a tiny Pollyanna-ish point of light in the middle of a terrible siege, but it is something to consider.

***

Thought for the Day

"You do not have to be good. 

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. 

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. 

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - 

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things." 

- Mary Oliver

Little Bluebird

Little Bluebird / Oil on black canvas / unframed / 4x4 / $38 including shipping

Sold!

THE SHOW IN TUBAC, AZ starts in a few hours, and I am still setting up on the patio at Sweet Poppy, so I will leave this little bluebird to sing his song to you alone! 

***

For Today

"The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, 

but their inward significance." 

- Aristotle

Bluebird on the Wing

Bluebird on the Wing / Oil on black canvas / unframed / 5x7 $68

sold

I MYSELF WILL BE on the wing soon, heading to Arizona to spend a few good weeks with my dad and stepmother. I am hoping to encounter sunny days, and warmth - and I know I will be in a landscape I love, and with people who are dear to me. 

I will be posting a bird a day on my trip, if I can find good, safe internet - and will be painting birds while I'm out there. Also while I'm there, I'll be showing and selling my paintings during the Tubac show, Feb. 6-9. I'll be on the patio at Sweet Poppy, near Shelby's on the Tubac Road. 

You, my faithful blog readers, have probably already figured this out, but just in case, the Bird A Day birds show up first here on the blog, if everything works right. Then, I post them on Facebook and, then, if they're still available, on my website, Jacobson Arts. I try to get the blog to SEND at specific times, so that the birds appear in your inboxes before they show up anywhere else, but that seems to be beyond my control. So if you want to have first dibs on the birds, check this blog in the mornings. 

***

For Today

"Measure your health by your sympathy with morning and spring. If there is no response in you to the awakening of nature - if the prospect of an early morning walk does not banish sleep, if the warble of the first bluebird does not thrill you - know that the morning and spring 

of your life are past. Thus may you feel your pulse."

- Henry David Thoreau