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Day 25. The Trials of Toothpaste

A little issue For your consideration-- Toothpaste-- cap back on.    Like I mentioned in my last post, I'm getting ready to sell my house, and the business of getting it ready for the market is not joke. Countless garbage bags, two trips to goodwill, the handyman...

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Day 24. Transitions

Cold hands on the grips We pedal familiar streets-- Future memories    Transition. That’s the word I can’t get out of my head. That might be why I’m painting so many flowers and busy little bees-- they speak to me of transition.  I’m getting married in May. I’m...

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Day 23. Daunting

Words-- there’s too many To say something meaningful And yet still I try   I wrote the first line of this haiku this way: “Words--there’s not enough” but decided the second way was truer. Painting and writing-- it feels like reaching into a big bag of infinite to...

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Day 22. Louisiana is not cold

The first day with heat  This old house with creaky bones Shivers, smells like toast   Birds puff up when they are cold. This little robin must have woken up in my house this morning because he’s quite puffed up-- and I’m just enough not puffed up that I can...

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Day 21. Flower Power

Give her a flower She smiles for two whole days Paint them--a lifetime    I like painting flowers for a lot of reasons. One of them is that they don’t die or wither. The leaves don’t start to yellow and then brown (all of which I also find beautiful).  I guess...

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Day 20. Enjoy the pause

Weddings are about Something that cannot be named Brushstrokes in my dreams    If you’re following along, you know I had a busy weekend-- wedding paintings Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. I woke up this morning feeling lots of things-- accomplished, still...

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Day 19. Out of Place

  Egret in the ditch-- Beside the save-a-center Sorry for your loss Mary Oliver has this poem I adore about egrets. The speaker labors to get to a little pond where she sees three of them take off into a “shower of white fire.” I see egrets, one in particular, on...

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Day 18. Tripleheader

okay just to sit listen to the fickle rain Coffee number two   This weekend in particular, I’m feeling my bee-ness in full force. I painted at a wedding last night-- something a little different-- the ceremony and not the reception. I think you can see my...

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Day 17. Deeply in like

With your facebook post-- I’ve fallen deeply in like  Will the folks approve?  I’m developing (or perhaps just realizing there is one) a complicated relationship with social media. On the one hand, it’s the most powerful tool I have to get my work out there. I’m not...

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Day 16. Blessed are the bees

My church is called the Blessed heart of busy bees “Be still” but I can’t    I wonder-- do they-- Bellies to fill, hives to help-- Stop and smell the bloom?   In the spirit of my haikus, I wrote TWO of them this morning, thank you very much. I wonder when I...

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Day 15. Stay the course

Three careful ice cubes I’ve watered it with patience Faith in what’s not seen    Every January, the 31 in 31 leaves me with a few surprises. I didn’t set out to write about houseplants at all, much less multiple times. But I’ve got some great news to report, and...

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Day 14. Birds of the air

What if birds worry-- Gathering seeds into barns Chic as pinterest I have a long list of worries and they range in severity from about threat level "will the avocados be ripe enough?" all the way up to "is another world war imminent and will any of us survive?"  I...

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Day 13. As though it were any other day.

A few years ago I rented a booth at an art festival in Pass Christian, Mississippi, a sleepy little town I’m soon going to call home.  Back then, I was pretty nervous about showing my work and had heard on an artist podcast that our bodies, our posture, can directly...

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Day 12. Coffee, not paint

A Sunday morning what these little hands prefer-- coffee and not paint I could tell you 1482 reasons why I'm not in the mood today. I could put one spin on it to make it sound like insurmountable obstacles have crossed my path. Another spin and it's just mundane life...

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Day 11. Mighty Little Things

Mighty little things Pretty in their packaging Beaks like dueling swords The first time I got hummingbirds at my feeder I was elated. How adorable, tiny, mysterious, precious-- and what’s that? Combatant? Aggressive? Hey ya’ll. There’s plenty of room for everyone, I...

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Day 10. Dust Removal.

It’s in a folder  Labeled “maybe tomorrow” Turning grey with dust   You know that famous old Picasso quote? “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”  It was back in October-- that first glorious September cool front decided to be fashionably...

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Day 9. Nightmares

The leaves are withered So I give. Water will heal Truth? Death by drowning Indulge me. Like day 8, it’s another haiku about my poor houseplant (and maybe some other stuff). Last night I dreamed I was doing a wedding painting at a very bizarre non-wedding (I think the...

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Day 8. Less and More

The plant didn’t need As much water as I gave Helicopter mom  Today’s haiku doesn’t have as much to do with today’s painting as I’d like. But I will say this-- I nearly killed a houseplant recently. The more it withered, the more I watered it, begging its brown leaves...

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Day 7. Purple Shadows

  Purple shadows prove Something solid took up space Made art with the sun   I’ve painted many peacocks-- always looking back at a long train, not open, but dragging behind them as though evidence of grand adventures once experienced, once travelled. I...

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Day 6. A new, rowdy week

A new rowdy week Begins, as it always does Mountains in distance  After day one, I thought I might see what it would be like to interpret the same image in both watercolor and oil. It took me until day 6, but I’ve done it, and there is something so satisfying about...

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Day 5. Right to the Heart of Things

A knife in my hand-- And you’ll have to pry it out paint stains on cold hands   Here’s the thing-- I love painting with knives, and once I get going it’s hard to stop. I don’t know what it is-- perhaps the directness of my intention, the unreserved application of...

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Day 4. Family Trees

  I started this poem in the summer, this 16x20 painting just recently. I've visited and changed both several times, and neither feels fully complete. Do any of them? Ever? I'm watching my son form memories and experiences, many of which I've informed, but I...

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Day 2. Give it Time

His tail is not yet As glorious as will be Just give him some time  Our street was long and dipped down at the end so when I was on my bike I could really pick up speed. I’d lift my feet from the pedals and let the momentum of that little hill propel me to the...

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Day 1. Celebration

Day One.   So hard to be still When all i want is to check Stillness off the list   One year ago today I sat down, much like I am today, and wrote those same two words: day one. I usually spend the first day of any new year thinking about all the things I...

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I’m Thinking about Doing Something Scary…

I have taken to  Writing haikus with coffee Morning ritual I wrote that one a couple months ago when I decided it was time to give that little fire inside me room to grow. Here it is: I’m thinking about doing something scary.  But first let’s talk about the...

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Down the Same Drain

“I have already settled it for myself so flattery and criticism go down the same drain and I am quite free.”  ― Georgia O'Keeffe I’m reading a biography of Georgia O’Keeffe right now, and I have to take it in small doses because she blows me away. I cannot handle her...

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I don’t know how to buy art (but I’m learning)

Truth be told, and I hate to admit it, but I don’t really know how to buy art. I’ve been on the other side of it for a while now, and that I kind of get. So when you buy something from me at a market or from my site, I’m a little in awe. Of all the beautiful art in...

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To the Tchefuncte, With Love

 “Hurricane” Barry was a non event. There’s still a twig in my yard that blew off the sycamore tree, but other than that, there’s no evidence. And the twig wouldn’t hold up in court because even the slightest rains bring down branches in my tree-happy yard.  But...

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I’m still pissed.

I’m still pissed.  As though it were a bad show on Bravo or the dead possum on the side of the road, for a long time I just wasn’t able to look away even though I know my spirit (and my queasy stomach) deserve better.  It’s about something that happened so long ago....

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