that’s what we’ve had for a whole week and it is healing the souls of flood weary citizens of the commonwealth.
So this morning I harnessed the power of those first rays as they blast through the foggy forest.
Yes, that’s a panel…a blank canvas as it were… which means that YES I am going to be painting again…any minute now. And yes, that’s an apple basket and a Stayman I think on the panel. Last night I took a previousely prepared panel and slathered on a final coat of the primo gesso ( Artboards Panel Gesso ) and this morning it was ready for the gentle wet-sanding which leaves that ultra smooth finish that I crave. You need to find a source of strong raking light to dance across the panel so the otherwise invisible imperfections can be spotted and sanded out. Today I let mother nature be the lightbulb as well as the drying source.
I have come to understand, though not always appreciate, that each painting has its own agenda, its own time to be rendered. I tried several times last fall, and then again in the spring, to work on the apple picking series which I had sketched out and planned to include in this year’s Granary show. But it wasn’t in the cards. Not its time… until now. It made me wait until the crisp autumn air sent me running for the first sweatshirt of the season…and the local orchard was announcing that it was time for pick-your-own…and the saigon cinnamon jar tumbled off the shelf and into my great grandmother’s dough bowl.
OK got it. I dug out the NC Wyeth quote which inspired the series when I read it in his letters last winter, ” I have all this and more, yet how I would like to relax; to be content with a wheelbarrow, a rake, an apple basket, a pipe.” And I sent Pat to her favorite farm stand to beg for a basket and Finnegan and I drove over to the orchard and picked a bushel of the finest looking apples…which, she reports, tasted pretty good too. Then we took a trip to Saren’s house to put the pieces of her old wooden wheelbarrow in the truck and bring it back to the studio for the setup.
With a bit of repair work it was strong enough to hold the apple basket and the rake and the pipe. So here’s a rare look at the first stage of the composition…
I say rare because, like any good magician, you risk letting down your audience if they see what goes on behind the curtain. I’m just so excited to be working at my day job again that I’m throwing open all the windows and doors.
Starting off the day with panel making at dawn… I can’t wait to see what other wonders await…
Awash in flood recovery our family, our neighbors, our community and our state have been blessed with a dry sunny October week. Wherever we go now there are weary faces and stories to match. Everyone around us has been affected and so there is a sort of commaraderie that has swelled and landed us all on higher common ground.
And those random acts of kindness you occasionally hear about…you know those little gestures from someone who doesn’t even know you…that catch you off guard and that take your breath away…as we go about our days wobbling with our tired backs and heavy hearts… we seem to keep bumping into them.
Like when Pat climbed out of her muddy boots and wanted to do something normal and went to get her haircut and her gal Marianne (at Salon Oxygen in York )made a space in her schedule… and listened to Pat’s story (as she always does because Pat tells the best stories) and when it came time to pay she told her Pat’s money was no good. “You’ve been through a rough time Pat, this one’s on me. Don’t you worry. You’ve been supportive or me for all these years. Let me give something back.”
And then today… when after weeks of having the industrial dehumidifier drying us out in the basement (you’ll remember the photo of Pete kindly delivering it to us right after the flood)…and worrying all along how much this was going to cost as the days dragged into weeks. Well Pat and I managed to haul it up one step at a time and got it in the station wagon and off she went to return it. Only to have Mike, and RSC Equipment Rentals in Lancaster, say to her, ” there’s no charge”. What ? “We know you’ve had a hard time. There’s another family who rented one from us too. It’s the least we can do to help out our flooded neighbors.”
Both times we wept.
And there have been so many other small gestures that add up to some very big sighs of relief on top of the huge out pouring of friends who showed up with gloves and smiles on.
We are making great progress. They were here today to measure for the furnace which they will install next week. Here’s a pic of the garage and shed finished with reclaimed flood wood and as you can see I’ve had time to plant the fall crop and Pat helped me get the greenhouse back up around it so our little garden can begin to grow again.
Here’s hoping that your neck of the woods is drying out too and that your October days are full of crisp apples and the kindness of strangers.
It’s time to move on to something artsy and not covered in mud…so I’d like to welcome you to the fall line up of shows which are going to be taking place in Denver, Co.
For 19 years Martha has been a trusty, loyal and sassy set of wheels for Miss Pat. Many of you have ridden in Martha, or been picked up at airports, or driven for a swim at the lake, or over the river and through the woods to and from Gran’s house, or buckled your children’s car seats in, or had your backpacks and hiking gear stowed in the trunk, or your prom date’s dress tucked safely in, or helped to load her up with mulch or bales of hay, or waved as Gran drove her slowly away from your houses. Coming or going…this blue Volvo and Pat Lackey have been one undifferentiated ego mass …from hello… and all who have had the pleasure of coming along for the ride have been kept safe by her dearold machine.
We knew the time was soon approaching when we would need to think about letting her ease into retirement. And for years, literally thousands of miles, Pat worried that Martha might be on her last legs. I mean really…. read this number carefully…
Our only serious concern was that Volvo only put six spaces on this odometer. Her magician of a mechanic Shane has kept this old girl humming for almost half a million miles. And Herself has been religious about keeping Martha oiled up and shiny.
It came down to air. Really WE gave out before she did. One more summer without air-conditioning was the final straw. But still… the thought of having to give her over to an auto auction…to a STRANGER ! Well, it just was too hard to bear. But as luck would have it, our grandson Isaac was in need of a car and he jumped at the change to, in his words, “take her off our hands”.
So we set Bob to the task of finding us a new ride and he sure got us a sweet one…and… at only 2004…such a youngster !
So Isaac and Pete met us at the dealership this morning and we signed on the dotted line. Pat got roses and I got a hat and we all got Wilbur chocolate and we each got keys. Isaac got a lesson in where the fuses are…every single thing that has ever gone wrong with this car has been fixed with a 5 dollar fuse…
and she got some shiny new plates…
and now Martha will get to do some city driving with a dreadlocked dude at the wheel. We know she’s in good hands because she raised all of the grandchildren. Isaac’s DNA and crumbs from his ice cream cones are an important part of her patina. So as hard as it was for Pat to say goodbye to her longtime companion and protector…it was with great pride that she could hand the keys, to a car in such great shape with over 440,000 well earned miles on her, to her grandson who will get some serious bragging rights and will take her for the next half a million miles.
Thank you for keeping my family safe Martha, I lift my chocolate bar to you !
Well yes, we did see the sunset…
and the sunrise…
and my father got to see one and helped to make the other.
My Dad died this morning.
After the massive trauma from his wicked fall led emergency brain surgery to relieve a brain bleed last saturday night. We will hopefully look back and see that he spent a mercifully short time in the SICU while his caregivers, children and close friends came together as one to provide the best care and hope for the best outcome. Tonight I know we did both.
Every single one of his family played a vital role in helping Dad ease out of his pain and into the light.
Last night, in between the raindrops and the late late night dark, we followed a small white van from the hospital through the deserted streets lined with palm trees and stucco walls and back down the long lane to the quiet back door of the hospice house. They settled him into the first room on the left and quickly and gently removed all but the essential palliative care.
Pat took the recliner by his side and they wheeled a cot in for me and together we sat the vigil. His deep steady breaths were almost drowned out by the roaring of an air conditioner…almost. I kept pace all night with his rhythm listening for too long a pause. I might have slept but for the settling fears. After hours of phone calls to keep all the siblings up to date on the situation which seemed to change hourly, the roller coaster ride had come to an end and we were left to stand by as witnesses to the transition.
When the dawn began to light up the dark and somber room I peeked out to see a small lake and some sweet green grass. i got up and walked the long empty corridor and wondered how well I would come to know the pattern in it’s carpet.
I walked back to our room and woke Pat and we decided that since Dad had been stable for hours we might have a window of respite to go to his apartment refuel and regroup.
I held his hand and told him that his plane was ready and the this time He gets to be the pilot and if he decided to fly away while I was gone it was A OK with me but to make sure to wave as he flew by.
In a very short time we had picked up his ipad to bring him his music and the Whinnie the Pooh story I was reading him in the hospital, washed ourselves up and gathered our meds with the plan to stay by his side as long as needed.
With our hand on the doorknob to leave the phone rang and it was the nurse telling us his breathing was irregular and we were there within 15 minutes.
He was already gone.
I wept with tears of sadness and joy and thanked him for the very great gift of not having to watch the sometimes gravely bits at the end…and the relief that his suffering was over.
The first sign he was ok was the hand waving in the car driving into hospice as we were driving out…Bill Forbes was coming to visit not having heard. We hugged between the two cars and he made us follow him to get something to eat where Martha, his wife joined us and we wept and laughed and generally made our own little wake.
The second sign was the magnificent display of clouds all day. When I left Dad the first time I made a note to tell him how different they were down here than in our hilly New England skies. Turns out he was painting them himself by the time I got back to him.
This entire week’s journey has been surreal and often felt to me as if I was in someone else’s sitcom but coming home to his place this afternoon was a massive shift in the tectonic plates. What, this morning, was his property to be protected and privacy to be guarded was now three rooms full of orphaned treasures.
Martha shook us out of our dazed state of exhaustion and told us she had reserved a table at a restaurant by the beach and we were to go there and sit by the water and watch the legendary Sunset over Naples Bay.
Honestly, when we pulled into the drive I was afraid they would suss out our log cabin roots and send us packing to dairy queen. But they couldn’t have been nicer and we were seated on the veranda just under the cover of the porch roof in case the magestic thunder clouds decided to let go.
It was wonderful to be in a festive atmosphere as we had decided to celebrate Dad’s life and raise a toast to his last sunset. Just over my shoulder, as we were feasting on our shrimp cocktail, a small wedding party paraded down a rose petal strewn grassy aisle accompanied by chamber music and cameras flashing and dinner guests on the veranda raising their glasses in congratulations.
Pat smiled and we toasted the long winding thread of life…going on and on.
The waiter who poured our drinks said something nice and Pat put her arm on his and thanked him for making me smile telling him that my father had died this morning …his eyes filled up and he told us his mother had died two weeks ago…in jamaica. He was able to be there. A whisper.
Then as the grilled scallops and ridiculously rich lobster sauce was served a vibrant woman with a notebook in hand, who turned out to be part concierge and part notary, came up and asked us if we were the two women in the newspaper article. Nope I don’t think so…Yes, yes the ones who have been together for 36 years ? We’ll give you twenty and hope for the next 16 but nope, we’re not from around here. She had trouble taking no for an answer but we got to talking and she went to find the article to show us and the merriment around us blossomed into a beach party complete with sparrows dancing at my feet and the entire crowd rearranging their chairs to get the best view of the sun which was setting behind Dad’s majestic clouds.
Bill swears by this famous green flash that happens just as the sun sets. I did hear others saying…wait…wait for it.
When at last it set a wave of applause rippled along the beach…some were disappointed. Not me. I was looking into Pat’s eyes, green as the dune grasses beyond and my heart was brimming with having come through this week of storms …out to the other side…where we all have found some new names for peace.
Thanks for sharing your last sunrise with me Dad…and leaving your trail across all the sunsets to come.
I love you,
Heather
My father is in a coma after brain surgery to relieve a subdural hematoma sustained in a fall. There are so many layers to this but the way my family has come together is nothing short of miraculous. My brothers and step sister and brother have gently and immediately fallen into a strong and loving support system. Coupled with the dear friends my father has in Naples and a caring and supportive church family he has down there…my Dad has a winning team behind him.
The studio lights will be dark for the foreseeable future but my trusty apprentice will be guarding the paintings that are piling up for the summer shows.
OK I’m back… if only for what was supposed to be a quick entry and has now taken me two hours just to sort through some photos for ya.
I have begun to get emails and inquiries from some of you who have been worried about my blog absence…along with some not so gentle nudges for updates and more photos…I am heartily sorry and phenomenally busy. More that the usual crazy around here but we are all well and, as you will see in the pics here…just plain plowing through the spring.
With a very few exceptions I have been painting non-stop getting ready for the big Granary show this summer and a June show at Gallery 1261 and a special exhibition in Santa Fe in July ! I promise to fill you in on all of those very soon.
But for now here are some highlights of our early spring weeks…
The Lake Placid Lackeys came for an extended visit that spanned the entire month of April and right on into May. Jon was working on a stunning stone project in lancaster and commuted from our place while Zoe and her mom Tonya hung out with Gran and Mima. When T went back home to her teaching gig Zoe took over grandma sitting and we worked in the garden and built a new arbor with raised beds for some more veggies and herbs and a grapevine. I gave Zoe her first woodworking lesson at the shaving horse. And she got her very first taste of Reeser’s ice cream !
On the back end of that trip we spent my favorite day of the year at the Sheep and Wool Festival. It was one of my all time highlights to introduced Zoe to this event and except for one very big and loud Baaaaaahhhh…she had a blast.
Now it is mid May and the northern visitors have left and all that rain, the wettest April on record, has indeed brought the most beautiful May flowers I can remember. The beach rose which I brought back as a tiny seedling from the island is in full bloom and her scent carries me back to the bluff every morning when I come over to the studio yard to begin the day.
A loving couple of bluebirds has taken up residence in the blue birdhouse in the studio garden and all day long they flit around perching on the tops of shovels and dogwood branches and they have christened the new arbor as their very own sky box for a view of our comings and goings.
Herself and Finnegan have developed a daily walking routine that is getting them both in fabulous shape and they are unchaining my ankles from the easel for a couple hours on the sunny days to let me work in the garden which is helping me to deal with pre-show stresses. Frames and professional photographs are starting to come in for the finished paintings and the studio is a beehive of activity. Look for previews here soon and details on all the upcoming shows.
And last night we attended the Dutchland Roller Derby Bout with the debut roll of our first grandaughter Amanda…or as she’s know in the Rollerderby world…Seeds of Destruction ! (that’s her…the blur of a watermelon helmet with tiny pink shorts complete with sewn on watermelon seeds…of course ). It was awesome and terrifying to watch her confident, atheletic and graceful body spin round and round that track. She jammed her way through that pack with style and grit and, though there just isn’t enough padding in the world for her grandmothers, it was amazing to watch her. (In the bench shot you can just catch a glimpse of the mascot…an Amish girl and her black hatted little brother who ran around the ring with cowbells to rally the fans. It’s not your mother’s roller derby anymore.)
So our spring has been bookended with time spent with the oldest and the youngest grandchild…doesn’t get any better than that.
I’ve been chained to the easel for long hours and late into the night and thought I’d take a break and write a quick blog to catch you all up.
The Granary Show is coming together. This year I have decided to focus on a few core themes and explore the subject matter across several paintings. A large central work accompanied by some other takes on the theme and then including smaller sketches to add some whimsy. The frustrating part is that I’m running out of time to meet the ambitious goals I set when I came up with this idea. Back when we were still enjoying turkey leftovers and looking forward to months of snowbound studio days.
Now… I haven’t been slacking off. Those winter months were productive but I had some commission work to do and an exciting Santa Fe show to paint for…stay tuned for that announcement… but here we are with easter bunnies and ham sandwiches and the clock is ticking.
One of the “themes” I’m working with is … Laundry. Yes, that most humble, and dare I suggest…sensual, of the household chores. Back in the early days my friend Rex Wilder, the world famous poet, wrote a poem called The Folder. It echoed perfectly the act of love that goes into the folding of a lover’s freshly washed linens and seemed to capture what I was trying to say in this painting of the same title (circa 2000)…
Pat is, as I write, up at the laundromat …lovingly washing and folding my clothes.
And I… am getting ready to play around with these three little panels…
It’s a PERFECT painting day…dark and stormy skies and rain puddles for Finn to play in while I set up a still life with tea towels and teacups and clothespins.
And at the end of this day…the promise of a sushi birthday dinner !
The Big Dipper Oil on Panel 16 x 20
The Organist’s Daughter Oil on Panel 24 x 36
Suspended Oil on Panel 20 x 16
