Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts

Monday, December 21, 2015

Solstice

Today is the start of the winter solstice - a dark day.  I woke this morning to the dimmest of light, and a steady rain.  It was hard to haul myself out of bed, though the singing and tap dancing of the cat on my half asleep body was encouragement to get up.

The good thing about dark crummy weather is that I spend lots of time in the studio, though lately much of that studio time has been spent doing Christmas crafty things, organizing and cleaning, and reading about art - and not so much making of art.  Still, I have been playing around with some painting, and some collage work.

5x7 inches, paper collage

I am lucky to have friends who save old magazines and books for me.  This  little collage was assembled from a painting from a tattered guide to the Uffizi Gallery, a book of Japanese nature photography, and a picture of a butterfly from a very old National Geographic.  

I keep two separate files of collage papers. One contains all colors and textures from papers I have painted, or magazine pages that I have altered in some way. The other file contains photos and classic paintings, mostly from vintage books and magazines, but also old maps.  I have categories like Faces, Hands and Figures, Sacred Images, Animals, Birds, Insects, Plants and Nature, Diagrams and Graphs, Text and Numbers, and so on. Images for each category get stashed in a large zip close plastic bag.  I try to take out no more than three bags to rummage through to find materials that go together for any one collage.  

I like how this one turned out, and think it could be the beginning of a series

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Finished - Winter Sisters

Winter Sisters
11x14 inches, oil and collage papers on canvas

This collage and oil painting of me and my younger sister is about done.  It was great fun to gradually see the image develop, and to imagine the colors of our coats and shoes.  

I honestly can barely remember us at that age, though it must have been about the time when I was questioning Santa Claus.  I recall thinking that the logistics of him flying all over the world were pretty shaky, when on Christmas Eve it snowed, and the heifers broke loose.  When I woke up on Christmas Day there were hoof prints everywhere in the fresh snow, and I decided - at least for one more year - that Santa had visited.  

We believe what we want to believe.  Merry Christmas! 

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Another Work in Progress - More Personal

One of the things I especially enjoy about working from old snapshots is the opportunity to really look closely at the images.  I usually work with pictures of people I do not know, but this time I wanted to work with an old photo from maybe 1956 or so of my younger sister and me.


I scanned and enlarged the original, and drew us, simplifying the background so much as to be pretty much unrecognizable.  In the original we were standing on the covered front porch, in front of the wooden door that had an oval window filled with beveled glass.  The sun was in our eyes, and we were dressed in our good wool winter coats, trimmed in fur.  We both wore hats, tied under our chins. The shapes of the door and window behind us are only suggested here by using an old diary page, wallpaper and bits of a Wisconsin map.


Yesterday I started pushing back the paper background, suggesting a shadow of the overhead roof, and adding shadows behind us girls.  I still need to make decisions about the floor, and later when the skin tones are more dry, I need to warm up the flesh tones and deepen the shadows.

Staring at the old photo I remember how much Mother liked decorating the old farm house for Christmas.  I removed the homemade styrofoam-pipe cleaner-felt Santa head that hung on the door from my painting, and the bit of our Flexible Flyer sled that showed.  Clearly the picture was taken in December.  In those early days we always had green Christmas trees, covered with glass ornaments and heavy lead icicles that we kids liked to toss on the tree in a very un-artistic way.  Funny all those memories that return, just from staring at an old snapshot.

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Merry Christmas

3x4 inches, acrylic

Merry Christmas, friends.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Eight Below, All is Calm


Here in Wisconsin, when it is clear, it is cold.  This morning it was -8 degrees, but bright and still.  Ice from a storm last Thursday still coats the tree branches, and when the morning sun lit them up, they sparkled as if they were made from glass.


I went outside in my flannel pajamas and slippers and just stood on the front step for a moment, enjoying the quiet, and the long morning shadows.


Then I went back inside for my morning coffee and the paper.  Life is good.

Tonight we head out to my brother's house for a once a year get-together, to see how we're all holding up.  We'll snack on whatever people decide to contribute, catch up on each others' news, and exchange goofy white elephant gifts.  My gift wrapping skills are deficient, but that is OK, since their unwrapping skills are excellent.  And we'll try to just enjoy each others' company, while privately missing parents, grandparents, and siblings who have somehow become ghosts of Christmases past.

May you, whoever you are, have a good Christmas too, if that is what you celebrate.  Peace be with you, in any case.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

The Evergleam, Wisconsin Classic

Patty, with Chatty Cathy and the Evergleam aluminum Christmas tree, 1960.

To be honest, I never thought I would wax nostalgic about a four foot aluminum Christmas tree, something my ten-year-old purist self thought of as an abomination.  I loved real trees, tall ones that grazed the ceiling, smelled all piney and cold, and eventually got all prickly and brown and dropped all their needles into the carpet. I loved it when my parents added bubble lights, and we got to toss on silver icicles, when I gather were made from lead.

I took this photo in 1960, the year I turned ten.  Even then I was pestering people to pose for pictures I took with by Brownie camera, and my younger sister Patty stood with her new Chatty Cathy doll.  The snapshot was originally in color, but it faded so badly that I scanned it, converted it to black and white, and bumped up the saturation on my photo editing program.  Suddenly I could really see the card table with the Christmas tablecloth on it, the thin curtains in our living room, the matching flannel pjs my sister and I had, the ornaments on the tree.  It's funny to me that right now, as I type, I have a four foot artificial tree on a little round table, and some of the same ornaments are hanging on it.  Yup, the very same ones.  I had that little glass lamp chimney for a long time too - Mom made it by gluing on red, white, and black felt, to make it look like Santa.  Sort of.  Eventually it broke - maybe accidentally -  or maybe not.

Anyway, Mom wanted an artificial tree, so she drove in to Elkhorn, went to Gambles and brought home the box.  I suppose having a ready tree, one that only cost $10 and could be used year ofter year sounded like a wise use of scarce cash and time.  Dad didn't love going out after milking a barn full of cows to lug home a pine tree and then mess around with erecting it inside.  I also imagine that Mom just didn't have the energy to deal with an infant, a toddler, a seven and a ten-year-old, and also decorate a drafty and small farm house. The first year the Evergleam went up she placed it in my little brother and sister's playpen, to keep it safe from their curious fingers.  I hated the silver tree, but she put it up for several years before the shiny "needles" got looking dusty and some of the branches that fit into holes drilled in the truck were damaged or lost.  We had a few live trees up through the time I was in college, but once she and Dad moved into the ranch house at the end of the driveway up near the road, after Grandpa moved to the county home, and finally died, they went to green artificial trees for good.

These old aluminum trees have had something of a revival lately, and the Wisconsin Historical Society in Madison has a big show of the trees.  The Evergleam trees were made in Manitowoc, Wisconsin, so they have a local connection.  Plus the 1950s and 1960s have receded far enough into the faltering memories of the Baby Boomers and their surviving parents, and are just history to everyone else, so that the decades have acquired something of a Mad Men cachet.  Sort of like looking at those eyars through a rotating color wheel, or 3-D glasses.  I almost wish I had one to put up today, but they've gotten too darned expensive.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Dark Day

6x6 inches, collage with found and altered papers, stamp

The past couple weeks I've basically ignored Christmas, with the exception of addressing and writing notes in several dozen cards.  No duplicated letter this year, probably because I have slowly come to realize that people who are close to me already know what we've been up to - which is the same as last year - and nobody else is fascinated by hearing about our lives.  Or worse yet they think that I'm bragging about our travels, and that we have altogether too much time on our hands, with all the miles my husband has put on his bicycle, or the art work I have finished. I'm not imagining this; variations have fallen from the lips of friends and relatives more than once. And absolutely nobody is interested in my plantar fasciitis or recent costly dental work.  So I have settled on writing a couple lines wishing the recipients happiness and health.

There probably are reasons for my annual winter funks.  Christmas is one. We do not have children, so obviously we also do not have grandchildren, and children are the focus of most Christmas events around here.  We don't have little ones wanting to see Santa, begging to put up trees or make cookies. No school programs. Our parents are gone, so no gifts bought or visits planned, and neither of us needs or wants much by way of gifts for ourselves.  If we need anything, we go out and get it - usually second hand.  We're not church goers, for all sorts of personal reasons, so are not involved in those sorts of activities and programs.  I find myself occasionally feeling wistful about missing the old excitement of the season, and not even heading out to the holiday light show at the local botanical garden, watching lighthearted television and movies, or dropping off a donation at a fine local charity does much to lighten my mood. Our lack of snow and dark wet days don't help much either. Television news is simply one catastrophe after another, each one worse than the previous.

Light deprivation is possibly a contributing factor in my gloominess; I should go outside more, though there is little sun to be found out there. I bought my winter bottle of vitamin D rich fish oil last week, and have been sitting at my work table with the fill spectrum light - am still waiting for those benefits to kick in.

So, for now I'm listening to  my winter playlist, and collaging away like mad.   Some days I go back into my stash of papers and saved images and reorganize, or weed out things that don't speak to me any more, or I paint tissue paper in colors I want to use.  Other days I just settle down to cut and paste, and wait for the light to return.

These are the sorts of things I've been working on recently.

6x6 inches

6x6 inches



Thursday, November 17, 2011

And Now For Something Different - Crafty Birds

8x10 inches, cut paper

Let me get this off my chest first.  I am not so much of a Christmas person. 

Actually I like some of the aspects of the season (that's what it is, because it certainly isn't a single day any more).  I like bright twinkly lights at night.  I like cookies and eggnog.  I enjoy hearing from friends and family. All good.

What I don't enjoy is mainly the economic push at this time of year, the emphasis on buying stuff, supporting the local economy by opening the wallet. I know the economy is in rough shape, but let me think about what I am thankful for for a minute, eh?  So I try to celebrate without becoming a raging consumer.

Anyway, I decided to try my hand at designing a card for this year, and my inspiration came from an article in an older Somerset Studio magazine that I found at the library.  The idea was to design birds using mostly circles cut from paper.  I decided to see what I could do, since I have bags and bags of various papers I've squirreled away, including an old book of wallpaper samples.  Did you know that paint stores will sometimes give the books away for free when they are about to be out of date? The only things I purchased for this effort were some tiny metallic brads, which are used for the bird's eye, and some  snowflakes stickers. The results appealed to my husband, which is good.  I still have to see if this size will work for cards when copied and duplicated, and I still need a greeting of some sort. 

We shall see.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Collaged Ornament

6x6 inches, paper collage on canvas

This is an experiment.  I had a little  six by six canvas that had two previous paintings on it that didn't thrill me, and I was feeling a little guilty that I had nothing to put into either the art league Holiday Show nor the holiday open house at the gallery that shows my art.  I foolishly thought I could put together a little collage of a Christmas ornament quickly, but it took me two evenings to plan and assemble.  It has all the paper things that fascinate me, maps, stamps, sheet music, oriental papers of several sorts.  But I consistently forget that with collage, smaller doesn't necessarily mean quicker, because the pieces are so small.  But I don't mind the result, and plan to try a couple n a 9x9 cradled board.  That might be less picky.




Saturday, December 25, 2010

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it.  I'm just remembering the ghosts of Christmases past, and sharing some memories today.  We had a lovely Christmas Eve at my brother's house last night, and this morning the back yard is dusted with fresh white snow.  Friends stopped by with homemade Christmas cookies, and life is good.  That said, I miss my mom and dad and grandparents today, and miss the excitement of childhood Christmas mornings.  The privilege of being the oldest one at the party is being nostalgic, maybe.

 Mom and Dad's first Christmas; they had been married in August of that year.  They lived in a green trailer in Grandpa's side yard.  This was 1949.

 My first Christmas, the oldest grandchild, with a bear and pile of dolls.

Santa, at Grandma's house, about 1954.  I see images of children terrified by Santa on television, but I was just happy and excited.  Actually, I think he DOES look a little scary...

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Crossing Another Off the List


Ivory Billed Woodpecker
vintage trading card

OK, I didn't see an ivory billed woodpecker. If I had, I think all sorts of universities and birding groups would be here interviewing me, since the bird is so elusive and rare. What I did see on Christmas Day at my sister-in-law's house up in Door County was a pileated woodpecker, which looks rather similar to the bird on this old card.

I've been saying I wanted to see one for several years. I'd wistfully comment that I wanted to see a pileated woodpecker and people (my aunt, the sister-in-law, whoever) always would tell me they had seen the bird. Ho hum. Where have I been? But a personal sighting eluded me. Two summers ago I thought I saw one at the top of a tree in Oregon, but I was a passenger in a car, and the look was too quick to be certain. On Christmas Day I was upstairs on the telephone to my aunt when I heard the group downstairs calling to me to look out the window, and there it was, a monster woodpecker with a red brush cut hanging on the suet feeder. Woody Woodpecker himself. I got a good look, and was well pleased.

That was a really fine gift, seeing that woodpecker. I'm fifty-nine today, with lots of Christmases and birthdays under my belt, and it's getting harder and harder to see, hear, or taste anything very new. The Christmas Day sighting of this wonderful creature was about as good a gift as I could want.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Sledding Santa

I decided not to put up a full-sized Christmas tree this year, but I did dig out some favorite ornaments and decorations. I bought a little wooden Santa Claus ages ago, and he has become a favorite. The old guy still has some child alive in his heart, apparently. Just so I could look at him more carefully, I decided to paint him in my sketchbook. Who knows, maybe he'll end up on a card some time.

I had a good surprise yesterday when the English pen pal I started writing to in 1961 and hadn't heard much from for several years wrote me an email. When I was about ten I sent fifty cents in to some magazine and got back an address for a pen pal. This boy and I wrote a couple times, but didn't have too much in common. However, his mother started writing to me, and to my mother. I met the family in 1972 for the first time in London. Then over the years we met several more times. Through weddings, divorces, deaths and births we kept writing, though not so often in the 1990s. Then five years ago both my mom and the woman who had written so faithfully died in the same week. I didn't hear from the son and his family except for a Christmas card with signatures until yesterday. Now the boy I wrote to so long ago is a grandfather, and he promises to catch me up on their family via email.

It's a wonderful world, eh?

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Beautiful Days

Winter in Wisconsin can be dark and gloomy, but the cold snap in the aftermath of our recent snowstorm is beautiful snowy trees. Mornings are especially pretty, with combinations of sun and shadow on the frosted branches of maples, oaks and conifers. The only hitch is that the weight of so much snow has been breaking off branches, and in some cases taking down power lines.


My eye craves color in all this white. This poinsettia from our local FFA is as bright as a cardinal.


Sometimes the color comes from little things, like these colored glass bottles from a local resale shop. Note to self - try a painting of these sparkly things.


It's hard to see here, but this little artificial tree is flocked almost solid white, art imitating nature. I like the combination of little white lights and big colored ball lights. I made a dozen or so paper cranes from origami paper to use as extra decorations.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Snow Day

This was what we saw out the dining room window before bed last night. Local weather forecasters called this storm a "beast." Our beast, little Bucky cat spent a good part of the evening in the cellar hiding from the snow thunder.

The scene this morning was a study in black and white. I was awakened a couple times during the night. Once when the cat climbed into bed for some warmth and security. Once by snow plows on the street, and again at 5:30 a.m. when the school district's new automated calling system announced that school is cancelled. Trouble is, I have been retired for three years. Plus, when the test call came two days ago I called the central office to remind them to remove me from their list. They assured me they would, but apparently the new system still has some kinks to work out.

We live on a hill, which makes winter weather tricky. We can step out the door and be lulled into thinking the weather is fair enough, forgetting the shelter the hill provides from wind. There's no pulling out of our driveway on these days and heading up the hill. We've had hours of entertainment watching other people try it though.

So, it's a day to stay in and read, or paint or work on cards. I didn't put up a big tree, but several small ones provide a little color on a day that has me humming "A Hazy Shade of Winter."

Saturday, December 5, 2009

2009 Christmas Letter


I spent most of today updating my address book and working on Christmas cards and the annual letter. Then I thought, why not post it for everyone to see?

Christmas greetings!

I’m discovering that Christmas is, as much as anything, a time to keep track of friends and family, and an opportunity to look back over the year that is rapidly coming to a close.

Dick and I are both well and doing what we said we wanted to do when we retired. We both are reading up a storm, and we enjoy taking trips. This year in March we traveled with UW Whitewater to Peru. I don’t have a formal “bucket list,” but if I did, seeing Machu Picchu would be on it. In August we flew to Colorado and spent a couple days in Rocky Mountain National Park, then went on to join our Badger Buddies in Breckenridge for a few days of companionship and hiking. We took smaller trips too, to the UP of Michigan, up and down the Great River Road as far as Red Wing, and we spent of week of Thanksgiving in Key West, Florida.

I took a trip with DIck’s sister Sandy in May that I’ll never forget. We took Amtrak’s Empire Builder west to Washington State. In Spokane we met quite a few distant cousins related to my Grandma Tess. I was thrilled to find one of the houses she lived in as a little girl in Hillyard, and to see the old Adams family farm in Fairfield. I was particularly happy to meet these Smith and Adams in person, and to be able to help secure a stone for my great grandfather’ Adams’ unmarked grave. I also got to collect more stories, photos and family history information. After that we drove along the Columbia River gorge, and up into the Olympic National Park. We ended up in Seattle and took the train back from there.

Other highlights of the year included Dick riding another couple thousand miles on his bicycle (he’s much fitter than I am), my 40th Elkhorn High School class reunion, and my painting. This year I continued to work and take workshops in watercolor and acrylic, but also began experimenting in oils. I have some art in a local gallery, entered several shows with the Wisconsin Regional Artist Program. In June we had a reunion of UW Whitewater roommates and their spouses in McFarland. It has been a real joy to be able to keep up with these women and men and their lives for more than thirty years, I have also been writing my Late B(l)oomer blog, where I post some of my artwork, photos from trips, family stories and an occasional recipe. I’d love it if you would stop by and take a look. Here’s the web address: http://sherry-latebloomer.blogspot.com/.

There were other fun things, meetings and trips with my doll collecting group, lunches with teacher and fellow reading friends, trips north to visit my aunt Ellen, our annual Badger football outing in Madison.


I can’t close without showing you our ”furry child” Bucky. She is our little friend and lap-warmer, and she reminds us that life at a relaxed pace can be a very good thing..

Warm wishes to all of you for for a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,


Sherry








Sunday, June 21, 2009

Sounds From the Past


modified contour drawing of my great grandparents when first married

In 1994 when my mother asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I asked for a taped interview with my grandmother. I got the tape that year, listened to most of it, and put it in my tape caddy. Last week I got it out and listened for nearly an hour. There behind the hissing of the old cassette tape, were the voices of my mother, aunt, and grandmother. Grandma and Mom are gone now, and it makes me a little crazy that I cannot ask for more details on some of the stories. Now, after having put together memories with old photos, and having visited the places she lived as a young girl, I know what I would ask Grandma. In 1994 I didn't know, and was probably too busy with teaching to probe for more.

So, little by little I'm transcribing her taped answers to my questions, and when I finish I hope to have it transferred to a CD, and share it with my family. This is the first installment.

Transcript of Interview With Bernice Tess
December, 1994
This is Bernice Tess. We are gathered here with Ellen and Carol, my daughters, to celebrate Carol’s birthday, and while we are all here together we thought it would be a good time to answer some of my granddaughter Sherry’s questions. She has written down quite a few questions on paper that she would like to know about my past. And I think we should start more or less at the beginning, which is a long time ago, because I am ninety-two years old.
And I was born in the Cascade Mountains in the state of Washington, the very very deepest part of the mountains in Leavenworth, Washington, where they cut the big pass for the railroad over the mountain. They had to put two engines on there because it was too steep for one engine. And my father, being an engineer, wanted to live there. So my first memories were of a little cottage, up on a hill, very high up, And all I could see when I was a toddler around the house was snow because the windows were all covered with snow, and we had to have lamps, oil lamps, to see by, even in the daytime. And gradually in the spring, we would see the snow go down, and we would watch it on the windows, because every day it’d be an inch or so when the sun melted, and it was very thrilling to watch the snow go down, inch by inch, until we finally could look out our windows. They were pretty dirty by then, but that didn’t bother me any at the time.
We lived there until I was about three years old and then there was trouble in the household. And my mother and father disagreed, or, agreed to disagree, I guess. Anyways, Mother got me up in the middle of the night one night and said we were going on a train journey. Which was very surprising to me because my father was still sleeping in bed. But we went to the neighbors and the neighbors took us down to a train, and we went to Hillyard, which was quite a few miles and on flatter land. It was a suburb of Spokane. And we went to a friend of Mother’s and stayed with her for a while. Eventually we bought a house there, or my father did; he came back to live with us for a while. But that didn’t last too long either. And this time when we left, we left for good. 
I wasn’t ready for school yet, so I must have been around four when we left the final time. And all I remember from those days were different people’s homes and faces where I stayed while Mother worked. She was a midwife, and she went to various homes and helped with babies being born, she told me. So I, being a very shy little girl, I wasn’t used to staying with all those people; I was very uncomfortable. Especially when I could hear them talking, whispering about my mother behind my back. I didn’t like it very well. So we were not too happy. Mother read ads in the paper, and finally decided the best place for us would be out on a ranch. There would be no people around to be talking about us, and we could live our own lives. So she answered an ad, for a man that wanted a housekeeper, out on a big ranch, in the east, northeastern part of Washington, right near the Columbia River. So she answered the ad, and he was not too happy. He didn’t know that she had a little girl, but he finally accepted me because there were very few people that wanted to go work on a ranch that was fifteen miles from the nearest town. Well, fifteen miles on land. If you crossed the Columbia River you could go to Hanford, and that was only six miles away, but it was hard to get across the big wide Columbia River. 
Eventually I had to cross the river to go to first grade, And then I was boarded out again. But, that year passed, and I was back to the ranch. Then we looked for a school teacher. We had a hard time getting one because nobody wanted to teach out there. It was very wild and woolly.
We had four big sections of land, and it was sand dunes and sage brush, and they grew dry wheat. It was an experimental thing with growing wheat, because it was bare, almost desert like country. Hardly ever rained. If it did rain we all ran out and tipped our heads and opened our mouths and let the rain run in. It was fun. We loved getting wet. We loved the rain.
But, school was not much of a success. We started out in a little one-room shack that had belonged to a homesteader that went broke, as they all did, most of them at least. And they had a woman teacher, but she didn’t stay with us long. When the left they got a man teacher and eventually built a one room school house, that was really a school house. We had an outdoor toilet, that had to do for both boys and girls, and we had a lean-to that did for the horses, because a lot of us rode horses to school. There were no cars of course, and no roads, really, just sand,. We went where there was room to go, there wasn’t a real road. And we thought we were very well off with the new school, though the teacher was rather - different. He taught us all that we didn’t really need to study, because the world was coming to an end, in just probably six months. So, we needn’t worry too much about our grades. He just taught religion to us. He said that was much more important than lessons. And of course we didn’t sleep very well at night, I had nightmares, Finally Mother asked me what was troubling me, and I told her. I said, “We are all going to die,”
“Oh no, “she said, “we’re not going to die.”
I said, “Yes we are, and it’s going to be real quick.”
And so, that was the end of the teacher. He left and we didn’t have any school that year at all, we just sort of took it easy and went without school. It pleased most people, but I was very hungry for companionship and the only companionship I had was at school. So I was pretty lonely. 
Then we got a hired man that was very very nice to me, so that helped a lot. He taught me how to dance, out in one of the hay lofts. It had a hard floor. It was over our jackass. And when we danced too hard he would bray, and make a terrible noise. You could hear him for miles away. But we laughed. That was just part of the fun. But I was never allowed to go near him. He was very vicious, wild. The farmers brought their mares there, but that was all. He had a very special yard of his own that was fenced in with high fences. That was just part of farm life. 
And we also had the only windmill in the country, and the only place that had a well big enough that they could dig down deep enough in the sand to get water. So all the farmers and the homesteaders would come to us for water. And they had water wagons in those days, made out of wood, and the slats twisted and turned like a barrel. Some of them leaked. Most of them leaked, and you could tell their trail, coming and going, by the water leaking out of the slats. But that’s all they had, apparently there was no way to seal the seams because they all leaked. But we never charged them for water. They got it for free. They just had to carry it. 
And we also had a huge big water tank, and that’s where I learned to swim, in the water tank. And then I also learned to swim in the Columbia River. But the current was so swift there that I had to have a big rope tied on me. Because the current would have carried me downstream, and that really wasn’t a very good place to learn to swim. So I really relied more on the water tank for the cattle and the horses.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Last Page in a Sketchbook

watercolor, acrylic, ink in Moleskine sketchbook

This sketch started out as a plan for a collage. I have an illustration board prepared, and I've gotten the papers ready, but I realized that I needed to understand what I planned to do with this complicated shape. I played and played, and finally I realized I had to just step away from the whole thing. Maybe I need a closeup, something that isn't as confusing as all the droopy branches in this plant. I'll try again later this week.
I like the plant, when I'm not trying to draw or paint it. The Christmas cactus (Zygocactus) is originally from South American jungles. Unlike a true cactus, this plant cannot go very long without water. It loves our glassed in porch with its bright indirect light and cool temperature. I read that the Christmas cactus likes temperatures around 55 degrees at night in order for it to bloom, so the porch is perfect. I trimmed some of the bracts off last spring and just popped them into outdoor planters. They rooted and grew, though none of the cuttings is blooming yet. The plant does best with well drained soil, and when it is established and rootbound.

On another note, I'm looking forward to tomorrow, when I have lunch with some retired teacher friends, pick up a framed painting that I want to give as a gift, and get my Mac back from the shop. It has been gone for over a week, and I've been using my husband's computer. I can't wait to get my files and my playlist back home. I'm guessing he can't wait to get me off his machine.



Sunday, December 14, 2008

Some Holiday Pictures

Here I am, dressed up as part of a holiday open house at the Lincoln-Tallman restoration on Saturday. I portrayed Nellie Tallman, the daughter-in-law of the house's builder, and the person who lived in the house longest, from 1865 after marriage until 1915 when she moved in with her son. I showed visitors the master bedroom with its massive furniture, louvered shutters, and cold running water, then escorted them to Nellie and Edgar's adjacent room. There visitors saw some of the gifts the Tallman's exchanged, based upon entries from her diaries. This included such items as a tiny pique dress for little Stanley, Nellie's son, a child's wicker rocking chair, a tin horse, little mittens, candy, a set of Victorian blocks, some silk handkerchiefs, a pretty beaded pin cushion, some lacy sleeves to attach to a frock, and old currency. The house was decorated sumptiously, with all sorts of greenery, ribbons, poinsettias, and a different decorated tree in each room. It's a pity that more people didn't come out to see a real jewel of a home. The tickets were only $5, money the historical society needs badly for the house's upkeep. But maybe with so many people losing their jobs when the GM plant closes here on December 23, even that was too much.
The oldest glass ornament on our tree. It's scratched, but the handle and spout are still intact.
We moved our tree to the enclosed porch this year, where it is less in the traffic pattern, and cooler. This year I didn't go overboard in loading it with lights and ornaments. Only the glass balls went on, though I still may dig for the glass icicles. We like small balsams for their scent, and because on a makeshift table they are easy to decorate and water.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Snow Day in the Studio

Yesterday the weather forecasters predicted a major snow storm, so the stores were all busy with people stocking up on food and running errands. Last night I woke up and realized how quiet it was, no traffic noise at all. This morning when I took this photo it wasn't very snowy, the temperature was too high, so mostly we had sleet in the night. But since then it has gotten colder and the snow has been falling steadily all day. My painting group canceled, and my doll club meeting Christmas meeting for tonight is rescheduled. All the area schools are shut down. We aren't going out, so there is time for decorating the tree, writing cards, and working in the studio.

This is my work space. You can see the edge of my Ott light, which I love for the full spectrum light it provides. My studio is an attic room with two small dormer windows, so I need to have extra light to work. I have some of my own art on the wall, but also some by friends. You can see my homemade containers for watercolor pencils, and my glass jars of brushes. I have shelves full of materials on the table and also on shelves behind me. I had been working on a collage as my response to the December Virtual Sketch Date, but I'm not posting the results until Saturday, so I moved the actual finished picture out of the photo. I hope I can get further along on a colored pencil piece I started ages ago when I work this afternoon.


This is one of my little windows. There is just enough light to keep plants alive through the winter. I have to have green things around me in the winter, just to remind me that the world will turn green again.


I just wanted to include this 1913 Christmas postcard that I bought at our local consignment shop. The snowy day, birds, bells, and deer seem bright and cheerful. I love vintage graphics, though I'm not sure why these robins didn't escape the snow when they had the chance.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Grasmere Gingerbread, my version

Grasmere Gingerbread (shortbread)

Both my husband and I were English majors in college, so it's not altogether surprising we often took trips to the UK. I had a London pen pal, from 1961 until her death in 2004, so that was another reason to visit. At any rate, one trip in the 1980s was a hiking trip in the Lake District, including a stay in Grasmere, where Wordsworth lived. That little town is famous for its gingerbread, which is nothing like any gingerbread found here in Wisconsin. The actual recipe is a secret, though many folks have tried to duplicate it. Seems to me I remember the original had some preserved ginger. Their version is closer to shortbread, thin, buttery and crisp, than the more cake-like American version. I did my best to convert a British recipe to American ingredients and measurements and came up with this.

Grasmere Gingerbread
2 cups flour (can be part oatmeal that has been whirled in a blender until fine)
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
3 teaspoons ground ginger (I added a little grated fresh ginger)
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1 1/2 sticks butter

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees, and grease a 9X13 inch baking pan

Combine the dry ingredients. Cut in the cold butter and rub with your fingers until it resembles fine meal. Press into the prepared baking pan. It will be crumbly. Bake for 35 minutes.

Once it is on a wire rack, let it sit a couple minutes, then cut into squares. Let it cool completely in the pan, then remove the gingerbread squares and store in a tin.

If anyone in the UK has a better version, I'd love to hear about it. If you try it, I'd like to know what you think.