(Pro tip: Click on the title to see this post as I intended it to look!)

I’m sure it’s not news to you that life is full of sudden sharp turns and stressful detours as well as beautiful vistas and delightful surprises. I didn’t start this blog to dwell on the hard parts, so here is a little beauty for a mini-break from thinking about those.

Hard to believe it’s been more than a decade since David and I were on what we called our Year of Adventure (which actually took 13 months). It was the reason this blog was started in the first place. [Here’s the first one if you want to see how it all began.]

Lately, I’ve been looking through a lot of my old photos for painting ideas. I’ve just finished a class on painting with acrylics and have completed (maybe, sort of) my first two canvases.

I doubt you remember the original photo from a post in October 2014, but I did, and the teacher let me go for it. Some of his best advice was to put the photo away at some point and let the painting be its own thing. That was freeing! One of the things I love about painting with acrylics is there are no permanent mistakes. Anything can be touched up or painted over. Wouldn’t that be handy for other parts of life?

Here’s my second:

This one’s even less closely tied to the original photo, because the teacher wanted more water reflections. Of course I wanted fewer, since I had no idea how to paint them, but I obeyed. Still don’t really know the real technique. I just basically smeared paint sideways instead of dabbing it on. Probably should google it! Class is over, but I won’t stop now. Having too much fun!

Besides playing with paint, I’m still doing some songwriting with various teams at church, and that also is a delight. We’ve got a new song we’re planning to introduce next week for advent, and I hope there will be more to come.

But above all, my greatest joys are the people in my life, including these two rascals:

Well, that didn’t go as he’d planned, but he seems unbothered. If only we could all navigate life with such sangfroid.  Somehow, even after my [unspecified number of] decades, I cannot predict the future with any accuracy. All I can do is trust God, who is much wiser than I am, help where I can, and find the bright side as much as possible.

There are still so many things to be grateful for, like you who continue to read my meanderings and enjoy my photos. Grace and peace to you always.

BTW, I still hate how these posts appear in email, whether on your phone or laptop, so be sure to read this on my actual site. Otherwise the photos’ aspect is distorted and it’s just not as good. Clicking on the title will do it.

Okay, it doesn’t really feel like the season has changed, except for the one rainy cool day we had last week, but the calendar insists it is now officially fall. I can still get away with flip-flops and sleeveless tops, but I bring along an extra layer these days. Fall classes have started for everyone. Still, I was able to spend the bulk of a Saturday with the little guys, including a trolley ride to get ice cream at Walrus.

Then back to the Museum of Discovery for ALL the fun things there, including LOTS of very loud drumming in The Garage, where they practiced their rock ‘n’ roll faces and shook the place to its foundations.

Then a bit of zip-lining.

Be sure to note the handful of woodchips and the look on Brooks’ face. Yeah, those woodchips came straight at me. Little imp.

Tonight the sky was outdoing itself.

I wasn’t sure whether I should enjoy the show or run for home, but I wanted to check out my favorite pond. Remember this?Here’s the milkweed now.Definitely different, but not necessary something to lament, just a new season. If you can’t quite make up your mind if you’re ready for the change, you’re not alone. This tree is right there with you.

Of course, the adventures aren’t over just because summer is. Here’s wishing you a season of glowing beauty and many challenges to capture your imagination.

As always, grace and peace to you and yours!

For someone who always did well in school, I can be an incredibly slow learner. I’ve finally figured out that it’s way less stressful to begin to tackle home maintenance issues bit by bit, rather than to remain paralyzed by fear of how extensive or expensive something might turn out to be. I get frustrated with myself, but learning slowly isn’t always a bad thing. The various impressionists who used this place certainly kept at it for a while.

And I’ve been learning French little by little for the past fifteen years, decades longer than that, if you count my first class in fifth grade and my subsequent start-stop efforts. What matters is that I can now actually carry on a conversation, even if there’s still plenty to learn.

I’m also making slow but steady progress in Spanish. I actually had a tiny exchange of words (calling it a conversation would be a massive exaggeration) with a native Spanish-speaker working on one of the aforementioned maintenance issues at my house.

Yes, I know I can’t seem to figure out that if I want more of this . . .

I should actually leave my house.

If I want to see more sunrises like these . . .

I should get up earlier. If I want to improve on the piano, I should play it on a regular basis. If I want more of my poems to be published, I should submit more of them for consideration.

I get it, all these and more. Maybe you do, too, now that we’re at the end of January and ambitious New Year’s resolutions may be feeling unsustainable. How about we grant ourselves a little grace?

Maybe it’s fine to play the piano as well as I can whenever I can and leave it at that, to be proud of the poems that have been published and to send out more only when a specific contest or opportunity feels like a good fit. Less angst, more savoring.

Why not simply accept that sunsets can also be beautiful?

Even here, right out my back door.

And if seeing more sunsets than sunrises fits my life, what’s wrong with that? Not one thing.

So as I write this, I’m praying you keep at it, whatever “it” is for you, but also that you give yourself grace when you’re not perfect or immediately brilliant or making progress at the speed of light. I’m praying for you grace and encouragement and peace every faltering step of the way.

Okay, that sounds either more adventurous or more grim than I intended. As far as I know, I’m not going anywhere at the moment, so let me explain. I was recently asked to contribute to an upcoming exhibit at ArtSpace in Loveland (Colorado)* by writing an ekphrastic poem to accompany a photograph by Robin Snyder. It’s a beautiful close-up of what I believe to be a couple of African violet leaves–NOT pictured below–so I wrote a poem called “Leaving.” I don’t have the right to share either the photo or the poem with you here, but I can offer you a few of my leafy photos to get you in the spirit of it:

And here’s one of my favorites from Courtney . . .

Ekphrastic poetry is simply writing a poem in response to a work of art. What I love about it is that by focusing on artistic details, I find that my mind opens in a fresh way to other images and ideas.

In this case, Robin Snyder’s photo is primarily of the beautiful underside of one of the leaves, with the prominent veins and striking coloration, which I noticed was so much more interesting than the other leaf in the photo, “right-side” up, showing only the smooth, perfect top we normally see. How could I not see a lesson there? How much energy do we all put into showing only the most perfect, smooth version of ourselves?

Then I noticed how the spread of the veins resembled the extensor tendons that become increasing visible on aging hands, mine, certainly, but I also David’s at the end, when the world was no longer in his grasp, when all he could do was take the outstretched merciful hand of God bringing him home, as he left this world behind.

I pray for you today, that the things you’re leaving behind are worry, shame, resentment, bitterness and their ilk, and that you get to keep your dear ones for a while longer. I hope you cherish every day.

Grace and peace to you, my friends, as we leave 2023 and head into this new year!

*I’ll be reading my poem during Loveland’s monthly Night on the Town. Here’s more info, in case you’d like to see the exhibit and hear the poems: https://visitloveland.com/events/night-on-the-town-4/