Today’s Paint Outings

I took a few side roads today and saw a lot of interesting things and a lot of wildlife!

This afternoon the clouds were quite interesting so I did get a couple paintings done.

For some more photos:

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Today’s Paint Outings was originally published on

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NaPoWriMo 2019 – Day Nine

I’m late today. I’ve spent a couple days with Mom and doing things a little off the path of normal. All is well, and I’m glad for everything. Rained hard just as I arrived home and I set the re-potted plants outside to imbibe. When it let up I went out to look at clouds and found the blue heron was building a nest, there was a pair of common mergansers and a bunch of noisy geese at a nearby pond. So I sat and painted a bit. Now here I am with today’s poem.

One cup in the sink
a spoon on the table
books in a jumble
alongside the bed
an assemblage of
sheets and blankets
pulled up over
irregular pillows
a shoe by the door
half-full cat’s bowl
trash at the curb
lights on auto
shrine silence
remembrance echoing
door opens
door closes again.

Risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
— Leo Buscaglia

NaPoWriMo 2019 – Day Nine was originally published on

Looking for Something to Paint

Note to self: I like snow. No, really. And except for the extreme heat, I’m good with summer. Definitely OK with spring. Find it hard to deal with that March to Early April gray-brown-ness. Bleah. So travel somewhere closer to spring in March or stay indoors!

Came across this pond in West Stockbridge and painted while watching the two resident white swans chase any other bird that came along, both Canadian Geese and Heron.

Looking for Something to Paint was originally published on

Night Visitors (and day)

Day Twenty-four, NaPoWriMo

That’s what I started out with, but then I sat looking over a little pond, thinking I might be painting or sketch-booking or something. Instead I fished my binoculars out of the trunk and sat watching a pair of blue herons building a big nest way up in a tree. There were lots of smaller birds and a handful of canadian geese too.

A heron slides past,
into the pines, some miracle
slicing air between branches
He returns, stick
held out enticing
Taking, she places,
he rearranges,
another gift and another
careful chosen, flown,
offered and offered up
shaggy plumage shifting
She leans her curves
against his solidity
above the growing nest
waiting patiently each time
for the return, the gift,
the hopeful placement
the careful adjustment
the inevitable eggs
the unstoppable departures.

There was some serious lopping after writing that one, hey it happens. All you people and you know who you are who ask – does it need that ‘the’ – can smile now.

Day Ten, NaPoWriMo

Yes it was snowing again this morning.

The front yard fills up
with the early arrivals
grounded, bedraggled,
doubting themselves,
hoping for better.
They get more
sunflower seeds instead.
They scuffle nonchalantly
in the April snow,
all beaks toward May.

Monday in New Zealand

I’m writing you, gentle reader, from the Interislander Ferry as it bears Marge and me back to the North Island. It’s a great way to pass a few hours, have a bite of dinner, a drink, a cuppa and do a little reading and writing.

I’ve been flying the colors for NaNoWriMo today and have been reading my story so far. Made a few editorial changes but I’ve really been enjoying it. Come November first I want to dive into finding out the rest of the story.

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Today started out rainy and it spit rain here and there all along the way. We got back to Murchison in time for a bit of lunch and then back to Picton in time to see Marge’s friends before heading off to the ferry. You can see the photos from my phone today starting here:

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Of note was seeing a Weka, a large flightless bird who was visiting with one of the young women stopping traffic at one of the 23 construction stops we encountered along the way.

When all comes to all, the most precious element in life is wonder. Love is a great emotion, and power is power. But both love and power are based on wonder. — D. H. Lawrence