Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Grammy's House

Tonight Madeline is refusing to go to sleep.
She wails from her crib, freely expressing
her displeasure at being put to bed.

I just walked from the dark window in my room
to the corner (also dark),
then to the living room, then back here again.
I suppose a part of me is screaming like Madeline
from the news I got tonight - of my mother's cancer.
The word looks so odd to me there on the page.
My grandmothers both had cancer,
but not so early in their lives.
My grandmothers are both dead.
Another word that looks very odd.
But my mother is not dead.
Her discomfort is proof of that.
This is exactly the news I have dreaded for so long.
When the thought of losing a parent
first crossed my mind a couple of years ago,
the very idea filled me with panic.
A sickening panic and overwhelming fear.
I still remember that initial response
and now that I'm faced with the reality of it,
I only feel numb.
As though I also have gun under anesthesia -
and so I make myself write it... coldly?
I don't mean it to be cold.
I don't mean it to be at all.
I only want it to go away.
And maybe it will.
With more surgery,
and with radiation.
Maybe it will go away,
and maybe her face will be OK.

Dad talked tonight on the phone - about God,
about church, about Bible study,
and I told him I'd pray for Mom but...
But pray for what?
To tell God what's going on?
How I feel?
How Mom feels?
If he doesn't know, then he won't be of much help.
We all die.
We all know we all die.
And if God already knows about my fear,
about mom's pain,
how much I love her,
and how I can't imagine the world
without her in it somewhere,
then maybe this is my prayer to him
right here in my notebook.

Gentle Jesus, comfort us all.
Comfort Madeline who doesn't want to go to sleep
and help us all accept
our inevitible time to sleep.
But wake us again in a happier place,
well rested and full of light and love.

As a child on vacation,
I had to endure many hours at a time on the road.
Mom always told me to lie down and go to sleep,
and when I woke up, maybe we'd be at Grammy's house.
I wonder if that is what it's like to die?
When we wake up, we'll be at Grammy's.
The journey passes with our father at the wheel.
Our only job is to rest while he takes care of us.

1998

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Trees


Today I've been painting more trees.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Coho Cafe

The manager of the Coho called me the other day and asked if my work could stay there for another month. Of course I said yes. And she asked if I would be their featured artist for this year, which means I'll be doing the coffee cup and t-shirt design! And I'll be showing there again in Late July and August!

Heather


Yesterday my beautiful and smart step daughter graduated from Bemidji State University. I am so proud of her!

Fisherman's Picnic


I was recently asked to do a design for Fisherman's Picnic. Fisherman's Picnic is the big celebration that my town, Grand Marais, MN, holds the first weekend of August every year. This watercolor with ink is based on the design from the 1956 Fisherman's Picnic button.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Stone Garden


This abstract painting is actually based on the ground plan for a stone arrangement in a small Japanese garden that you might find on an apartment balcony. The blue square represents a stone basin and the one with the red dot represents a stone lantern.

Friday, May 05, 2006

Whippets


This afternoon I shot this picture of my friend Susan's whippets, Wings and Roxie, when she took them to the field to chase Frisbees. These dogs are so graceful and fast, it's a thrill to watch them run.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Two Moose

Gunflint Mercantile


Today I start my new job at the Gunflint Mercantile. In addition to selling fudge, they will be carrying some of my new moose paintings.

Snick, this is the one I was painting on when we were talking on the phone last night.