Afloat

Ever read a Really Good Book, an Absolute Page Turner, and just have to tell someone?

Tag.  You're It.

I just finished inhaling Erin Healy's latest novel, Afloat.  Oh, man.  As is usual when reading Erin's work, I couldn't put the thing down, had dreams about it, and am totally bummed I finished it already.

No, it's not a children's book, although there is a charming five year old in the novel.  And, no, Brooke won't let me tell you anything more about it, except that it is 'spellbinding'.  So plan on being 'away' until you finish it.

She also just got her very first digital camera, is fascinated that there's no film in it (how does that work anyway?), and took this great shot as I was caught up in the story, adrift in the river, lost in space, drifting away from Eagle's Talon...

I'll write again, when I get back,

Mildred

P.S. Oh, thought you might like to see one of Brooke's first non-film, digital camera attempts. She doesn't know I found this (let alone posted it), so mum's the word, ok?

Past-Her-Prime Tiger Lily in Brooke's Backyard

Night Light

Trusting God Always Involves Risk

Years ago, when I was struggling with trusting Jesus, a dear friend told me a story.  If memory serves me correctly, the story is true.

It seems a mountain climber and his Sherpa guide, were well into a treacherous mountain ascent.  Although it was not snowing at the time, there was deep ice and snow everywhere.  It was bitterly cold. The ledge they used as an excuse for a 'foot path' was so narrow, that one foot had to be carefully placed in front of the other.

To miss step was to fall hundreds of feet to a certain death.

The Sherpa knew the route well.  Tied to his guide, the climber made sure he placed his own feet in the Sherpa's imprint.  Sometimes he would hold onto the Sherpa's backpack to keep himself steady.  The higher they climbed, the more dangerous the path became, the more rocks loosened and fell, and the slower they moved.

Abruptly, the Sherpa disappeared into a pitch black cave in the side of the mountain.  Without missing a beat, he walked confidently into the complete darkness.

But the climber could see nothing.  Just black.  He pulled on the Shepa's backpack.

"We need to stop!" yelled the climber.
"Why?"
"I can't SEE!"

The Sherpa stopped. Turning his head he said, "If you only trust me when it is light, and you can see where I am going, then you don't trust me at all."

****

So now, when those Dark Cave Moments come, I grab Jesus' backpack, close my eyes, and (risk) trusting God.  Especially when I can't see a thing.

Is Jesus your Guide?
Brooke

Le Bumble Bee

Bumble Enjoys The Lilies of Maine

I watched Brooke paint this.  In about fifteen minutes, maybe less.  She's like a woman on fire when she does these "Speed Paintings".

First, (after taping down the paper), she soaks it in water.  Soaks.  No, not in a tub (although that's been known to happen), but with a 4 inch Hake brush, dipped repeatedly in a 5 gallon bucket of clean water.  Slopped all over the paper.  I mean there's water everywhere.

Then, grabbing and tossing brushes into colors, then water jugs, then buckets, then paint, then yelling, "No!  NO! Not a 10, a twenty" and other incomphrehensibles, she attacks the paper.

Sometimes, she has two or three brushes in one hand.  Sometimes, they fall on the floor.  Sometimes she picks them up, mostly she doesn't.  Her hands fly so fast, it's hard to see them.

Then, as suddenly as the flurry began, it abruptly stops.  She leaves everything wherever it's landed.  And just walks out the door.

No commentary.  No outbursts.  No nothing.  Just gone.

But, I have learned something new, in watching this latest demonstration.  Do NOT use a hair dryer on these 'Speed Paintings'.  The colors need to 'expand' into the paper.  Brooke leaves so she won't be tempted to 'fix' anything.  She'll be back in an hour or so.

You'll see.

Mildred

Oh, addendum:  Seems folks want to know that the paper is Strathmore 300 cold press watercolor paper, painted on the wrong side.  The watercolors are Shin Han professional colors.  The brushes are sizes 10, 12, 16, 20 and 1 inch (various brands).  The air is from Maine.  The humidity is currently from Georgia.  The water is delicious well water (do we care?), and I think I'm done....

One Minute Drawings

Once upon a time, a famous, fabulous, fantastic illustrator (my Dad), said, "To improve your drawing skills, force yourself to draw One Minute drawings."

Yeah, right.

I can't imagine anything looking at all recognizable in one minute.  But, Dad's the master, so if I do this his way, maybe, when I grow up, I'll be as good as he is.  Hey, there's hope!  OK, then.  I'll try. 

Little Mia watches 'Mom' as she paints her portrait.

Choosing to draw my beloved dog, Mia, I drew her with my calligraphy pen as fast as I could.

I looked quickly at the sweep second hand on my antique school clock as I buried my watercolor brush in my own 'blend' of black,  mooshed it all a top the black line, threw in a little burnt umber (well, not pure burnt umber as some other colors had sloshed into it), and finished her off with a couple of blobs of white gouache.

It looks exactly like her! 

Bottom line?

 "To improve your drawing skills,
force yourself to draw One Minute drawings."

If it turns out like Scrap, put it in a box to save for future ideas.  If it turns out Good, then you've learned something about yourself (like challenges are actually a good thing).

Or, maybe you'll end up with a Treasure you just Flat-Out Enjoy.

Brooke

Her Pigness

I thought I'd show Mildred how to draw.  Well, after all, I did teach her to play the trumpet, and a pen's a lot lighter, so what's to lose?  As her model, Mildred chose a close friend of hers, her favorite porcine, Her Pigness.

The pen was a regular ink pen, full of runny India ink.  Mildred filled herself up with water and then spit out little droplets all over the paper.  Then, she added the pen work.  That way, when the pen ran into the water, it would do Runny Things.
 
You know, expand, and provide weird, unanticipated blob-ification.

A few of those 'droplets' turned into the shadows at Her Pigness' feet.  Pretty cool, eh?  The color
was all fly-by watercolor bombs, courtesy of Mildred's aviation prowess.

Brooke & Mildred

Talking to the Birds

Birdette expounds on the intricacies of life

 Remember, when you were a kid, and you and your Mom were having a conversation.  When, out of the blue, Mom would gruffly say,  "Guess I'll just go talk to the birds"?  Although it always caught me off guard (I thought we were having a marvelous conversation), I remember being unsure as to just exactly what she meant.  I did feel pretty safe, though, in thinking she wasn't serious.

Until today.

Currently needing some serious directional help, I spent the day where I thought I could get it.  And came away more confused than enlightened (shall we say?).  Then, I remembered Momma's advice.

The hardest part was waiting for Birdette to sit on the magnifying glass.  Once that was established, we got along great.  I don't know exactly what she said, but she spoke with passion and confidence.  And ya know what?  I do feel better.

Wonder what else Momma said that I ignored to my own peril?
Brooke