Haiku Clouds

On Wednesday I added some clouds to one of my seascape paintings, as the original clear blue sky looked so blank. Yesterday I ordered a set of fan brushes, all the better to cloud my future skies and fern-leaf my foliage.

Which leads me to this senryu:

with my fan brush
I scuffle in some clouds
promise of rain

Image by David Mark at Pixabay

Again on Wednesday, while on a walk, I watched the fluffy clouds drift over and wished they’d dump some rain on us. Yesterday’s cloud brought us about fifteen minutes of snow flurries, just enough to whiten the ground and briefly settle the dust. We desperately need a good soaking rain.

stop white clouds!
honor us with some drops
dust swirls along the road

soft morning rain
pattering in the trees
answered prayers

Morning Bounty

Good morning everyone. The morning is sunny, but we’ve a chilly wind and a temp of -16C, so it’s a good day to stay inside and admire the sculptured snow banks.

I see we have a GENEROUS supply of writing prompts, a real BONANZA of words and scenes to choose from. The Crimson’s Creative Challenge has been posted, though I’m not sure where this will get us. Looks like a dead end street. 🙂 Rochelle has posted the Friday Fictioneers prompt and the stories are rolling in. (Pardon the pun. 😉 )

I don’t know if I’ll get any responses done, though; I’ve planned a “tidy and mend” day. I was going to announce our success when we finally completed our extremely difficult Flutterbies jigsaw puzzle. We actually finished it Sunday afternoon — didn’t take us until spring after all.

Now on to my next project. I’ve told you that I’ve gotten enthused about acrylic painting, so last week I bought some brushes and got a few tubes of good quality paint when we were in the city on Monday. Yesterday I dug out a canvas from my “someday bin.” Someday has arrived! My evening reading time will be replaced with my new “splotch and dab” hobby. (Impressionist pictures really appeal to me, and they are very splotch-and-dab.)

Last night via internet I watched a tutorial from Ian Harris in Australia showing how to paint a simple sea and sky scene, with “woives and “sproiy” in the water and “claouds” in the sky. (It was worth listening to just to hear his Aussie accent!) He says he has a foicebook poige where he sells his demo paintings, if anyone’s interested.

Anyway, attempting to follow his EXAMPLE on my own canvas last night, I discovered that painting decent-looking clouds and frothy waves is not as easy to execute as he makes it seem. 😦 He’s an encouraging instructor, though, reminding his listeners that we’re learning and won’t do it perfectly at first. So I’ll keep practicing my fleecy clouds. Actually, the finished product didn’t look bad at all from across the room.

After my painting efforts were done, I had to do a small load of wash, as I’d forgotten about an artist’s smock and painted a nice turquoise blue splotch on the front of my dress, and decorated the cuffs of my fleecy grey sweater. Lesson 1A. The tablecloth is plastic, so can be chucked once I get past the beginner stage. 🙂

Early this morning we had a wonderful “good news” text: our grandson, age 18, had a visit with our pastors and will be sharing his “new birth experience” — his conversion, or experience of accepting Jesus as Lord — with the congregation Sunday morning. Family members will be invited to hear it in person; the rest of the congregation via streaming.

A note of explanation:
Our church doesn’t accept as members everyone who pops in and wants to be one. There has to be evidence that they are truly walking in the way Jesus and the apostles taught. Anyone who wishes to join the church must share with the congregation how God called them and how they repented of their sins and committed themselves to his ways.

The congregation considers the evidence — the changes they see and the person’s faithfulness so far — and ask whatever questions they may have about this person’s Christian life to date. Then every member is asked to vote: do they believe this person has made a genuine commitment to Christ? If the evidence is accepted, the person is baptized.

And that’s the news from our house today. I hope you’re all having a good day. One blogger calls Wednesday “Hump day” because it’s in the middle of the week. To the settlers here on the prairie winter seemed really long, but we find it incredible just how fast these days are flying by — isolated or not.

At Twelve per Hour

Yesterday my husband and I started doing a jigsaw puzzle, one given to us sometime in the past six months by I forget who. This is a Cobble Hill puzzle, one brand we always enjoy doing, where every puzzle piece is a different shape. Looking at their site, I see they have some really beautiful puzzles listed. 🙂

With each piece being a unique shape, the putting-together should be easy-peasy, right? Nope. Not this one, because it’s such a collage of vines and leaves, fruits and butterflies. In fact it’s call Fruits & Flutterbies.

Pretty? Yes. Easy? No. Click Here if you want to see the picture we’re trying to put together.

My hubby worked at it for an hour before dinner and put in twelve pieces. Then he calculated: 1000 pieces at 12 per hour, with each of us putting in a couple of hours every day, should take us clear through til spring. Somewhat like retyping WAR & PEACE.

However, with the outside temp hovering around -30 C we may as well occupy ourselves with something appealing indoors. It’s a sunny day and with sunbeams making all the snowbanks glisten, a person could almost go snow-blind. I imagine this country when settlers first came, not a tree or anything to break the view for twenty miles. And then sunshine on snowy fields!

One early arrival, coming from Wales, commented that “Back home I always like to face the road ahead so I could see what was coming up. But when I’m travelling here on the flat prairie it doesn’t matter what direction I face because the view’s the same whichever way you look.”

The Art of Jade Summer

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is JADE. A great word and lots could be said or illustrated, but I’m going to keep with my Books for Christmas idea and write about an artist who publishes by the name of Jade Summer.

I’ve discovered these adult coloring books on Amazon; possibly other retail outlets will be selling them, too. She has a variety of summer and winter themes. If you’re into coloring, you may want to have a look.

This Strange Whiteness

Hello everyone. The Ragtag Daily Prompt today is AFRAID. A word with so many shades, from embarrassed to reluctant to a bit fearful to terrified.

I’m afraid — somewhat embarrassed, that is — that I’ve been very slow to respond. Today I’ve been occupied with a sewing project. And I’m afraid — reluctant to admit and say — that I won’t be doing much blogging for a couple of weeks, as I MUST attend to other important things that have been piling up.

As long as nothing goes “BUMP” in the night, I’m not seriously fearful about anything right now.

Here’s a poem about fear, and how fearful folks with dementia sometimes feel. They know something’s wrong; they sense that their mind isn’t working like it should; and (if they’re still with it enough) they wonder how much more confused they’re going to get.

My verse probably needs some help and I’m open to suggestions how I can improve it.

Wandering in a strange whiteness
I’ve lost my mind in a snowbank,
I’m half frozen — and the wind
has blotted out what I should know;
memories buried in snow.

Perhaps I know you, but the blur
drifting across my eyes today
has made vague shrouds
of the familiar. I can’t recall
in these grey, blinding clouds,
who I once was, or how…
I’m related to you, you say?
I’m afraid I’ve forgotten.

How I wish some breeze
could blow this fog out of my mind;
melt this snow, warm my bones,
show me where I should be,
I hate to have to sit here
half the day, blind and frozen.

Modern Times & Grandma

THE MODERN GRANDMA

The old rocking-chair will be empty today
for Grandma no longer is in it.
She’s off in her car to her office or shop;
she buzzes around every minute.
You won’t see her trundling off early to bed
from her chair in a warm chimney nook;
her typewriter’s clicking far into the night,
for Grandma is writing a book!

Our heroine never allows backward looks
to slow down her steady advancing;
there ‘s no baby-sitting for her anymore—
for Grandma has taken up dancing.
She isn’t content with her thoughts of old times,
with meager and second-hand knowledge.
So don’t bring your mending for Grandma to do
for Grandma has gone back to college!

🙂

I’ve Googled and found this poem listed as “Author Anonymous” in several books, with a few variations. I found this version in the 1976 Friendship Book of Francis Gay. None of them mentioned Grandma running for office, but modern grandparents are doing that, too.

Yes, the lot of grandparents has changed very much my grandparents’ day. We’ve lost some important connections and probably thrown too much wisdom “out with the bathwater,” as Grandma would say. But in many ways I’m very thankful for the freedom seniors have today.

At the Villa one day over dinner we talked about some of the changes that make it possible for handicapped people to get out and about, like walkers, motorized wheelchairs, sidewalk ramps. And then there are health benefits like cataract surgery and macular degeneration treatment to prevent blindness and various medications to regulate the heart and keep people active longer. So Grandma can go back to college. 🙂

I think of my Grandma, who went from home to home visiting her children, not often appreciated by the grands. She had basically no interaction with us except to reprove bad behaviour. The mentality back in her childhood would have been “children should be seen and not heard”; it was not for parents to have a rapport with their children.

One older man told his son, “I envy you that, that you young fathers are encouraged to be close with, and affectionate to, your children. When I was young, fathers were to represent Authority, be stern and dole out correction.”

Some widowed grandmothers a century ago were simply “taken in” by whoever of the children had the most room or time to care for her. I would—and I  think most grandmothers now would—far rather have their own small quarters in a senior’s residence than be the “fifth wheel” in a busy family.