Summer, and songs, of green

"Green Leaves, Green Grass...of Home, 9 x 12 watercolor, 140 lb cold press paper

Green everywhere. Driving the back roads on today's beautiful summer day, that's what you notice. Lush, alive, blooming, rain soaked.

Far different that our neighbors in drought-stricken western Oklahoma and West Texas, where the dominant color is brown. Life and death.

Thoughts of life's beauty  combine with pondering death, so close to home and friend brought two songs to mind, about summer and home and mortality.

"The Green Leaves of Summer," and the "Green Grass of Summer...."

"The green leaves of summer are calling me home."

"It's good to touch the green, green grass of home."

Thus today's quick watercolor painting.

Reclaiming the Night

"Reclaiming the Night, " 5 x 7 watercolor, acrylic on 140 lb cold press paper

Today’s painting “Reclaiming the Night" watercolor and acrylic, soon at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District for members' black and white January show. 

Inspired by Chickasaw elder and Episcopal priest Steven Charleston's daily devotional.:

“Like a silhouette against the sun I see you standing on the horizon, looking out into the shadowy expanse of time, arms outstretched as if in prayer or greeting. How long you have stood there I do not know, but I imagine it has been for a very long time, so deep is the desire of your heart, the longing for an answer to your appeal. Who are you waiting for? What are you waiting for? Only the Spirit knows. All I understand is that you will still be there when the moon reclaims the night, for I will be standing beside you.” 

Seeking warmth in a cold world, three days 'til Christmas

"Promise of Warmth," 5 x 7 watercolor Christmas card

It's a cold, bitter world this week, these days, this year. 

Weather, war, hatred, hunger, poverty, violence, disease, sickness, suffering, intolerance, injustice, crime, corruption, homelessness, bloated and uncaring institutions--the list grows day by day, around the world, knowing no boundaries or borders.

Nothing has really changed since 2,000 years ago , except the extent and volume of an exploding population and decaying planet.

Yet, in the midst of all those insurmountable odds,  there came warmth and hope, hope for the sufferers, for the needy,  for those who were journeying, seeking real warmth, trying to survive the cold, bitter world.

With three days 'til Christmas read the warmth of the Beatitudes, thinking of  He who brought warmth to the world, and who they were spoken for:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
    for they will inherit the Earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
    for they will be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful,
    for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
    for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
    for they will be called the Sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
    for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.
 Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you."

Four days until light from the darkest night

"Star of Solstice and Hope," 5 x 7 watercolor Christmas card

“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” --John 8:12

Winter solstice, celebrated the world around through the ages because the sun and life-giving light  will begin its return from the darkest night.

We know not  what day Jesus was actually born, and the official days have varied, But Christmas Day, Dec. 25,   was eventually selected  to coincide,   to adopt and convert,  those popular pagan and other religious celebrations .

On clear nights, no matter how cold, especially in arid, desert  and rural areas, the stars provide light brighter than we urban dwellers can even imagine, and it is no accident that a bright star pointed the way to  another kind of light for the world.

Four days to Christmas, and the star beckons on the darkest nights of the years.

Ten Day Journey to Christmas

"Magic Beckons," 5 x 7 watercolor Christmas card

By now, we're sick and tired of the constant commercial claptrap, noise and traffic that began more than a month ago, ironic opposites of  a season and a day dedicated to supposed peace on earth.

But the journey to that magic day of personal peace in worship, faith, family, friends, goodness, giving and memory beckons, needed  even more as this violent year nears end.

Mountain monsoon moods

"Mountain monsoon," 8 x 12 watercolor, 140 lb. paper

How to escape the heat storm  hitting 111 degrees here tomorrow?

Only in my imagination of course. and I think of my favorite New Mexico Mountains, the Truchas peaks, and the blue and gray monsoon thunderheads towering up late in the morning and spreading into the afternoon.

You can see them building in the late morning, from far away, and then they dominate the sky and landscapes, bringing cool shade and weather and rain to the high country, and down into the valleys of the high desert.

So here's today's watercolor, painting the Truchas from memory, combined with thunderheads we saw on trips a few years ago--I'm always taking photos of them--fascinating infinite colors and shapes, changing every moment.

From my paintings this week, you can tell where my mind and heart are, hunkered down with memories, as the heat climbs.

The word "monsoon"

"Monsoon weather," 8 x 10 watercolor, 140 lb. paper

I love the word "monsoon," especially in the mountains and high deserts of New Mexico and the Southwest.

It means billowing thunderheads, blue-gray and infinite in shapes and power, especially over the mountains. bringing life and relief in July and August.

Today's watercolor tries to approximate that, as I long for rain and clouds and far vistas...water for this parched part of the Great Plains. I will keep trying...watercolor is perfect for these times.

I still have work to capture the beauty of them, more blue, more gray, but as I keep dreaming of rains and a break from the heat, here it is.

Here is the origin of the word, from the online etymology dictionary:

1580s, "alternating trade wind of the Indian Ocean," from Dutch monssoen, from Portuguese monçao, from Arabic mawsim "time of year, appropriate season" (for a voyage, pilgrimage, etc.), from wasama "he marked." The Arabic word, picked up by Portuguese sailors in the Indian Ocean, was used for anything that comes round every year (such as a festival), and was extended to the season of the year when the monsoon blows from the southwest (April through October) and the winds were right for voyages to the East Indies. In India, the summer monsoon is much stronger than the winter and was popularly spoken of emphatically as "the monsoon." It also brings heavy rain, hence the meaning "heavy episode of rainfall during the rainy season" (1747). Related: Monsoonal.

Dreaming of Rain

"Dreaming of Rain," 8 x 10 watercolor, 140 lb. paper

I dream of rain these days.

Unrelenting heat, and it's not even August yet. Much is still green, but if this "dome: doesn't dissipate (geen wanting to use that word), brown will be the dominate color across the Great Plains.

Can't do much about it, other than pay an air conditioning bill. 

Or, paint some of my dreams, in "water"color, of course, live giving fluid in a hot, arid land.

Today's small effort.

Sizzling Solstice.

"Sizzling Solstice," 5 x 7 140 lb watercolor

Heat storm...upper 90s and 100s all week. Saps everything, including motivation. So this was only thing that came to mind. And like everything else today, an effort. Drought in Oklahoma and the West.

The Green Leaves of Summer...Calling...

 

"Calling Me Home," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb. paper

Summer sets in...as the heat rises and memories of summers past flood back.

Several songs capture those moods, and for me, one of them is "The Green Leaves of Summer," by Dimitri Tiomkin and Paul Francis Weber.

That's probably because I first heard it as a teenager as the theme song to the movie, The Alamo. So romantic, especially for a youngster,  a Texas native, reared on the myths and glory of that Texas bastion, even if the battle occurred in a cold springtime.

Now, after reading and aging, I know the John Wayne movie was more myth than reality, and other movies have been more accurate, and less racist. But the song remains, better than the movie, always stirring haunting personal memories, and a memorial for brave men who died.

Thus today's return to watercolor.

"Twas so good to be young then
To be close to the earth
Now the green leaves of summer
Are calling me home."

Which country is next?

Russian Rape of Ukraine, 5 x 7 watercolor

Eight years ago, March 5, 2014, I did this watercolor after the Russian Hitler invaded Ukraine and annexed Crimea. Now it's the rest of the country. Remind you of someone back in 1939?

Which country is next? This is how WWII started. The rape of Ukraine shows history always repeats itself. Too bad the war criminal Putin hasn't been assassinated. Though his puppet pal tRump would be sad.

Snow Moon tonight

 

"Snow Moon," 5 x 7 watercolor

Snow is forecast. It was 70 degrees today, but a storm is swooping down the Great Plains.

By midnight, we could get rain, ice, hail, snow or tornadoes, or all of the above...it's Oklahoma and spring is still a month off.

But you can count on the stars coming out, and the full moon rises over the horizon----appropriately, named the Snow Moon.

Here's a little watercolor for the occasion, from my dreams and memories, after sitting on the back porch with a chiminea pinon fire.

Summer Dreaming

"Summer Dreams," 5 x 7 watercolor, 300 lb. d'Arches cold press paper

Winter weather can be beautiful, but the cold gets tiring. That's when I start dreaming of lazy summer days, with lots of green, blue skies and feathery clouds, where you're not cooped up inside.

So that's the story behind today's little painting, reverting to watercolor, with memories of being outside in rural life in Oklahoma and Iowa. Composition from a friend's photograph.

Against the odds

"Against the Odds," 11 x 14 acrylic on canvas panel

 "Time's A'wasting," was oft repeated by one of my childhood comic strip heroes, Snuffy Smith. If you remember that, you're as old as I am. And aware that time is passing, and we're wasting it.

I am more aware of that sentiment in all phases of my life than ever these days as a new year and a birthday have passed recently.

My previous painting on this blog, a watercolor entitled "Time Was," was spontaneous, and fluid, like time. I'm fortunate and honored that Andrea Byers, Hawk's Landing, and  The Hideout, of Canyon, Texas, loved it and bought it.

As time has passed this year, I've been experimenting, learning acrylics, and that scene demanded another attempt, for the same reasons.

This painting is the result, while of the same subjects, vastly different. The watercolor was fresher, more fluid, proof to me of its beauty and originality.

This one is not a copy, but done with different emotions, palette knives and brushes for the textures of the subjects, different effects, capturing the essence of time past on the Great Plains.

I had trouble with the title to this one, but they embody survival, against the odds.

Time was

"Time was," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb. d'Arches. Reference photo, Tailyr Irvine, N, Y. Times

 “All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; and the grass withers and the flowers fall,..." 1 Peter 1:24

'Tis the time of year when perhaps we think about our invention, time, time passing and time coming, though the Jewish and Christian God is only present tense, "I am that I am."

Another year, a human invention,  fades with memories, a new one is now, and looms, as does another birthday.

Thus today's watercolor, the first of the year, on the Great Plains, as I think of  times, seasons, grass and the rest of creations unaware of time, just now.

Six Days 'til Christmas

"Season of Silence," 5 x 7 watercolor card

Can you hear the silence?

Not often in this hectic, noisy, busy "holiday" season, can you?

We live in a world of noise, bombarded almost 24/7 with blaring media and traffic; in fact, it seems most people are afraid of silence, avoiding it. 

What once was a season of hope for peace has ironically become anything but. One author termed our culture as the "attention economy."

And if there is no silence, can there be any peace? When do we have time to stop, think, meditate, dream, create if our senses  are constantly assaulted with noise--both visual and aural?

That's one of the reasons I enjoy driving the back roads, sparsely settled, where traffic is scarce. No music, no news, just alone with my thoughts. Or walking a trail in Hafer park where at least the noise of traffic is muted, and you the sounds of birds and leaves in the breeze are the only disruptions.

That's why memories of hunting pheasant in Iowa or deer in Oklahoma remain, or  driving remote roads in New Mexico remain so vivid. I remember the silence of of walking the empty corn fields or being in the woods, or traveling the wide open Great Plains. Having lived several years in rural areas, you learn to value silence when you move to a city.

It's certainly why I value falling snow. It muffles sound, and turns the world into a quiet wonderland, where you can cuddle up with a book, a cat, some coffee, and enjoy the silence inside and out.

Thus this watercolor card. Can you hear the silence, more important than ever. Pease.

Blue Highways

"Blue Highways," 5 x 7 watercolor, 300 lb d'Arches cold press

Among the Clarks' favorite books is "Blue Highways," by William Least Heat Moon.

It is now more than 50 years old, but to anyone who loves travel, and especially travel on the backroads, this personal journey is Gospel. I once found an inscribed hard cover first edition, and one son is now the proud owner. 

Note to those who haven't read it. The old maps of America had the main roads in red and the others in blue. He circumnavigated the U.S. in a van writing of the people and places he met.

A sampling:

• “On the road, where change is continuous and visible, time is not; rather it is something the rider only infers. Time is not the traveler's fourth dimension - change is.”
• "A true journey, no matter how long the travel takes, has no end."
• "Life doesn't happen on the interstates. It's against the law."

Thus this little watercolor from yesterday, as the urge to travel deepens.

When America is attacked

U.S.S. Arizona, Dec. 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor, 5 x 7 watercolor

Have you thought about what happens when America is attacked?

Eighty-years ago today, a divided nation united when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. Four years later, two powerful foes were defeated in the world's deadliest war.

In April, 1861, a divided nation was attacked by South Carolina extremists, plunging a divided nation into our most deadly war, but eventually uniting the country. Before that tragedy, when referred to, the United States was always followed by a plural noun, "The  United States are." After that war, it's always been "the United States is." 

On 911, 2001, the United States was attacked by Muslim terrorists. The country united, and the world was on our side. Part of what followed was America's longest war, ending only this year.

On Jan. 6, 2021, domestic terrorists attacked the United States, threatening the lives of our elected officials in a coup attempt to overturn the U.S. Constitution. The last time the Capitol was attacked was by the British in 1814. A united country defeated a stronger enemy.

But this time, there has been no unity, only more division. Will America survive this attack?

I'm still waiting and hoping. That's why we need to remember Pearl Harbor today.

 

"Thanksgiving when we need it," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb. d'Arches cold press

 Wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving on your journeys.

While the roads are not always smooth and straight, the bumps and curves help us be thankful, for what we've endured, and for what matters most, for the gift and giving of love. 1 Corinthians 13

When art makes people happy

"Taos home," 8 x 10 watercolor 300 lb. rough press paper

Art is therapy in so many ways for an artist, but one of the best is when your work makes other people happy, lifts their spirits.

Such is the case today when my watercolor commission of a home in Taos, by Tracey Zeeck, was presented as an early Christmas present to her sister.

Grateful for the opportunity to give, and to paint adobe and New Mexico skies and light.