monochromatic

Sometimes times pass that we see mostly in monochromatic shades which, although beautiful, lack depth and another dimension.

Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you as by the attitude you bring to life;

not so much by what happens to you as by the way your mind looks at what happens.

Circumstances and situations do color life, but you have been given the mind to choose what the color shall be.

John Homer Miller

fluffy stuff

the common

This fellow who has discovered our feeders,

is deemed common because of his colorless plumage

or perhaps because of his vast numbers or his nondescript song.

He flutters gracelessly to the feeders, wings flapping.

Would we be more impressed if he wore the scarlet jacket and cap of the cardinal?

Would we be intrigued if he was the elusive oriole?

Would we listen if he sang as sweetly as the purple finch?

Would we applaud if he darted in like the acrobatic nuthatch?

Worshippers are we of the beautiful, the rare, the famous voices, the olympians.

The audience, those seated in the onlookers chairs- do they not wish to soar with voice and wing above and beyond? Secretly begrudge? Wish to shed the brown for scarlet, exchange the chirps for tra-la-las. Retrain the fluttering wings.

and yet...

The Father Creator cares for the sparrow..."not one of them is forgotten in the sight of God" (luke 12:6) The Son Redeemer chose common men to be the foundation of the church.

The nondescript to rise above.

Perhaps as I look around at my messy house, under renovations, and I wish to shed the common tasks put in my day I should remember to also let these nondescripts rise above.

Still

somedays

I would rather soar....

triangles

repetition of shape and color

in the morning

All it takes is a step outdoors

with eyes open..

and Beauty greets us-

not always with the majesty of mountains

or the crash of ocean waves

or the glorious painted sunrise

sometimes...

with a still small voice.

to bloom again

Forgotten flower, dried and dull,

resembling the cross-

or perhaps a sword?

Death, the necessary portal to life everlasting.

Last Sunday the message was about "the last enemy",

the mystery that severs bonds, that whisks one home.

"Whoever believes in me will never die," Christ promised.

Uninterrupted love.

To bloom like never before.

manchild

A broken dowel, painting tape, a goose feather, a branch, an elastic grabbed from today's mail and a child turns into a wily hunter. Eyes squinted as he stalks his prey.

for dad

the little ones spent a morning making gifts for dad's birthday.....

Tommy's raccoon, crayon

Marten's bird of prey, watercolour pastel and watercolour

Norah's rabbit, watercolour pastel and watercolour

country drive

The little ones and I went to McMichael art gallery today to have a look at the Group of Seven and Emily Carr paintings. Even Marten, who asked me why I thought that he would be interested in such adult things, enjoyed himself. An hour tour followed by an hour of painting.

Then a quick walk through the woods and a drive home along the country roads.

I mostly prefer the simplest of compositions. Like this quiet barren field. Repetition of furrowed lines, contrasting with soft dense cloud.

thawing

delicious anticipation of spring....

the morning was mild

and everywhere was the sound of melting,

drip, drip, drip,

and the sounds of birds

chirp, chirp, chirping.

glorious morning

It is only when Heise's sugar maples are bare

that I can see the sun rise

and enjoy the glorious colour of the dawn-

from the front porch!