"Cabin"

Back when I was in college, some cute boys proudly announced they'd gotten a cabin for the weekend in Southern Ohio.  They wanted my friend and I to go with them.  "You've got to be nuts.  It's winter!", I said.  The boys wheedled and cajoled.  "It'll be warm in the cabin!", they responded.  I wasn't a complete fool.  There are cabins, and then there are cabins.  Some wouldn't be much better than sleeping in a tent staked onto frozen ground.  "No, no", they said, "It has a TV and everything!"  I didn't care about watching TV in the woods, but if there was electricity it had to be reasonably civilized.  I agreed to go.

The days are short in January, and drive to Southern Ohio from Central Ohio was longer than anyone expected, so it was full dark by the time we got there.  We had to hike in the blackness up a steep hill without a flashlight since college boys apparently don't think of useful things like flashlights.  We stayed in the dark once we found the cabin because nothing happened when the light switch was flipped.  I couldn't see anything except sparks while the boys tried to start a fire in the fireplace.  I asked about restroom facilities and was told to just go off the back deck.  Oh yay.  Camping with boys in winter.  There wasn't even a moon that night.  No stars.  Just blackness.  I clutched the deck rail and hoped I didn't fall into oblivion.

There was a fire by the time I got back inside, but for some reason it didn't give off any heat.  We gathered dusty mattresses from the cots and made a barrier around ourselves to trap some warmth.  One of the boys proudly showed me the TV.  "See!  I told you it was here!!"  A tiny portable TV with the screen kicked out and no electricity, but sure, the TV existed.  Should I still call him honest if his honesty was to purposely mislead?

One boy was good with a guitar and I happily sang with everyone else while we drank heavily as college kids often do.  I slept soundly and didn't even hear it when the beer froze on the mantle and exploded in the night.

I woke up the next morning and went outside.  I got my first look at my surroundings.  The large deck had a giant hole in the center that gave an excellent view of the stream 200 feet or so straight below.  Any of us could've fallen to our deaths in our drunken bathroom visits the night before. 

When I got past the shock of that truth, I silently absorbed the beauty of the place: tall trees, a frozen waterfall, all wrapped in deep, deep virgin snow.  My silence was broken by a fellow reveler coming out and taking a leak over the deck rail, happily chattering about everything.  Soon, everyone was awake and making a racket.  There were snowball fights, treks up the frozen river, and boyish efforts to bust up the pretty, frozen waterfall.  A good time was had by all but I've maintained my suspicions about boys' promises and winter camping.  I'll give them this though, they did give me an experience to remember.

Oops!  I forgot to post this on Illustration Friday.  Since IF hasn't given a new word yet (Saturday) I'll post this on the site and see if we eventually get a new word. 

For those of  you who alread read this and came back looking for a new post, here's a pickle photo.  This is 2 pecks of cukes -- which is a lot.  It's what I did with my Saturday since I didn't have an IF word to keep me occupied :)

"Winter 2"

I drove east shortly after sunrise the other day.  Snow had dusted the trees through the night and the morning sun glittered on branches like sparkling fairy dust.  It was absolutely gorgeous and shook me out of my cold morning crabbiness.  Sometimes beauty slaps us in the face to make us appreciate the world we live in.

Yesterday's fairy snow is gone and December gloom crept back on me today.  I went to the park under a warm gray #6 sky.  The pond was cool gray #8 with #7 ice floes.  The bare trees are shades of gray brown on a brown ground amid brown leaves.  A brown squirrel scampered by and brown ducks flew overhead.  I set off with determination on the gray gravel path.

"This is good for you!" I panted to myself as I trudged forward.  My shoulders and legs felt like they weren't connected properly.  I adjusted.  I considered taking a shortcut back to my car.  I found myself tense again.  I adjusted again.  And again.

Eventually all the parts started working together.  I decided that if my world is gray and brown, I'd name the shades.  I started noticing all the colors in the subtleties.  Green moss dust on tree trunks, burnt umber, raw umber, yellow ochre... green grass!  Rose brambles held a hint of green in their brown vines, a bush held some green leaves.  I walked past a pair of deer, one of whom was intently licking the contents of the other's ear.  I couldn't make up my mind whether to feel disgusted or laugh.  Maybe it's deer foreplay?

There's a couple more places where I could've abandoned my walk, but I managed to do the complete circuit, including going up and down a couple of significant hills.  The leaves on the ground didn't look brown anymore.  They were a vibrant orange.  The bare patches on a sycamore tree reflected a vivid blue.  Same leaves, same trees, different perspective.  Of course it might've had something to do with the stroke I was having coming up that last hill, but I'm thinking positive.

In the season of gifting, remember, fairy snow and shades of brown are also gifts.  All we need to do is put ourselves in a place to see them and open our eyes and minds.

Wishing everyone happiness and peace during the holidays!

"Winter"

I like making snowflakes.  I liked cutting them out and sticking them on winter windows in school and I liked sticking them on the windows at home.  I still liked cutting them out when I was designing packaging for a living.  Some things are perennially perfect activities and I don't care about all the little bits of paper that get scattered around.

Mom hated the snowflake activity.  She did care about scattered bits of paper.  She hated Legos and all sorts of things I liked to do.  That's fine.  She didn't have to cut paper or play with Legos.  Do your own thing.  Be happy.

This sounds so simple.  It is simple.  There's all sorts of aphorisms that reinforce the thought.  The problem is we talk ourselves out of it, and other people try to talk us out of it too.  For example, when I happily cut snowflakes at work, my coworkers told me to get serious and quit having fun.  I shooed them away and kept cutting.  An afternoon of quiet clipping turned into many successful package designs.

Although this supported my paycheck, I didn't consider it "important".  They weren't like Rembrandt's portraits, Van Gogh's sunflowers, or anything else the masters created.  I kept waiting for an epiphany to lead me to my own masterpieces.  I think too many of us keep waiting for an epiphany and don't even cut snowflakes in the meantime.  I'm not just talking about art.  Whatever floats your boat, do it.

Mr. Roger's "Nobody else can live the life you live" has been stuck in my head for quite a while.  “You are a very special person. There is only one like you in the whole world. There's never been anyone exactly like you before, and there will never be again."

This has often struck me as both absolutely true and impossible.  There are so many people in the world.  All the great paintings have already been painted; there are no new ideas, just variations on snowflakes that look like solid white when they get together.  And yet, no two snowflakes are alike, right?

My recent paintings are an attempt to live up to Mr. Roger's affirmations.  The paintings are about my unique life.  Nobody else could paint them because I'm telling my stories.  Someone else could paint similar objects in a similar style, or paint their own stories in their own way, and it would be something entirely different.  That's great.  Even with the billions of people on the planet there's still room for all of us to express ourselves.

It's one thing to aspire to the masters and another to be choked by their achievements.  I don't want to be Van Gogh.  He was nuts.  Rembrandt died poor.  I'm painting in a pursuit of happiness.  It doesn't matter if these men achieved more posthumous fame and fortune.  What matters is following Mr. Rogers' wisdom and being my best me.

I've been thinking of these things for a while, but maybe I'm being extra fatalistic since I found out Jason Furcsik died.  He's another of my brothers' lifelong friends from the Glen, and yet another of their friends to die far too young.  I feel so sad.

On a brighter note, Bro2 brought his new puppy over.  For a ricocheting ball of energy, he is so gentle with my ancient dog.  It's funny to watch them play together.  They're in love, and I have to say I'm in love with the adorable little thing too.

"Tropical"

I get a free lunch every day at work.  I like this perk, and I like that I often get fresh pineapple.  I think that's about all I've got for "tropical", which seems like an unfair word for the week in Ohio January where it's gray, wet, and cold.  I wish I was a snowbird.

"Snowbirds" are people who live in beautiful Ohio spring through fall, then go to Florida for the winter.  Lucky, lucky people who've got more money and options than I've got at the moment.  (Hi Steve and Dr. Jim!)

I didn't get to see Florida until I was an adult, but it seemed like everyone else got family vacations to the "Sunshine State".  Other kids went to Disney World.  I camped on a rock in Canada.  Don't get me wrong, Canada is beautiful, and I love the woods, but I think I would've liked seeing Walt in Florida too.

I eventually got to Disney World.  I went with my little brothers and Mom one year.  One of those brothers sulked the whole time because we took them out of school during the school carnival.  The other brother was delighted to see places that they'd been studying in Social Studies.  Clearly, you can't please everyone.

Pete caught actually laughing in Florida
after a big wave just smacked both of them

Some people love traveling.  I like seeing new sights, but often dislike the process of getting there.  Sometimes it's nicer to enjoy seeing other people's travels through the internet without the bother of getting out of my bathrobe.

I like seeing what other people find interesting in their travels.  I like seeing other people's normal when they post pictures or write about their regular lives in other places.  I especially like seeing someone else's art of their normal.  Prickly pears in the back yard?  Great!  Maybe I'll paint the flowers or weeds in my yard sometime.

I threw branches at a raccoon family eating the goldfish in my pond, and someone else didn't know what a raccoon is -- or why I wasn't charmed by the cute little varmints.  Because they carry rabies and were eating my goldfish!  Skunks are cute too, but they sprayed my dog and I lived with a fog of toxic fumes for a couple of weeks no matter how many times I washed her.

I can safely laugh at other people's skunked dogs through blogs without having to actually experience it.  I'm pretty sure I can find an interesting restaurant in Cleveland without having to swat tsetse flies too.

But then, this time of year I wish I were a snowbird.  I'd like to walk on the beach without the arctic blast of wind coming from the north.  I'd pick up pretty seashells and worry about sharks and sunburn or something.  Clearly, I need a real vacation, and the only way to have that is to pack up and go.  "Tropical" sounds great in the winter!

"Winter"

"Winter" brings up thoughts of quiet contemplation, poetry, snuggling my puppy by the fire -- but tomorrow is Christmas, and it's hard to ignore the thought that my day will be noisy and happy as I spend the day with friends and adopted family. (Thanks Mary Lou!) My kin are scattered to the winds this year, and I don't mind as long as they are finding happiness and laughter too.

This has been a hard year for me in some ways, but it's also been a year of rediscovering old friends, making new friends, and I'm grateful for it. To everyone, wishing you a very merry Christmas and a happy new year!!!

Please remember my friends Korki and Geof in your prayers. Geof started chemotherapy this week for liver cancer after resting from an aortic valve replacement. I would like to be able to list my gratitude for his recovery next year at this time. Thanks!