I was trying and trying to come up with something purple.
Had an idea floating in the back of my head..
Hmmm….What was I going to do?
Was I going to show you some sage?
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Pretty, but no, no that wasn’t it..
Sammy, can you help me out?
Oh! I beg your pardon, I didn’t know you were in the bath.
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How about the balloon flowers? They are a lovely shade aren’t they.
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Also pretty but no, that wasn’t it either..
Sammy why are you laughing at me? I know, my memory is just terrible!
But considering how much stuff you have buried in the back, I wouldn’t mock if I were you.
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Oh what a minute, I did use a purple filter on the Moon, I mean I was actually on the Earth taking a photo of the Moon with a purple filter…(Grammar will get you every time. So will gravity, come to think of it.)
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No, no I’m sorry folks I just can’t remember what purple photos I wanted to show you…
It’s a shame really..
Why are you looking so frustrated, Sammy??
It’s okay, maybe this Purple theme will come around again..
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We’ll try again next week.
If you would like to participate in the Weekly Photo Challenges, follow the link and join in!
A perfect time to clean the house or closets or..no no that won’t do.
We rarely have long periods of gloom here so in keeping with the atmosphere I have bravely ignored the housework and instead have reflected on our trip to Mount Moriah Cemetery in Deadwood, South Dakota.
Mount Moriah, a cemetery established in Deadwood after the old one filled up, is an interesting place. It’s the final resting place of the some of the most infamous of Westerners. Wild Bill Hickok, Calamity Jane, Sheriff Bullock and Preacher Smith. It’s been said that Calamity Jane was buried next to Hickok as a rather rude joke as she drove him nuts in real life. The more likely explanation is that interest in the cemetery was waning and they needed a tourist boost. They still charge admission to the cemetery to pay for it’s upkeep.
I had envisioned a much tackier tourist attraction, I mean really who charges admission to a cemetery. Being from Niagara Falls , Canada, I’m a bit of a cynic, tourist attraction wise. I’ve seen many wolves come out to try and fleece the tourists for all they’re worth. But like much of what we saw in South Dakota, the spirit of the west, the charm and ruggedness of the scenery and the decency of the people overrode any modern attempts to exploit it. I wish we had taken the time in Niagara Falls to care for, maintain and respect both our natural beauties and history as the people South Dakota have. Hats off to them.
This is an acrylic miniature (4×6 inches) of a path that leads up to Sheriff Seth Bullock’s grave. The Sheriff, a Rough Rider under Roosevelt was a tough, rugged and fair man. He managed to stabilize the rough lawless town of Deadwood and surprised everyone by doing it without killing anyone. His grave is up on the mountain, 750 ft above the rest of the cemetery facing Mount Rushmore.
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I took many photographs of Mount Moriah as well. Don’t worry they encourage that, the visitors and admissions pay for the upkeep of this absolutely beautiful resting place.
I don’t normally much like sepia toned photos but I thought it suited these.
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This one appeared to be made of petrified wood.
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Overlooking the mountains.
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Mass grave of the victims of a boarding house fire.
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Wild Bill Hickok.
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Meanwhile back at the ranch..
It’s still raining, both dogs are soaked. Zeus being a lab is impervious to the rain.
But Sampson is soaked and he smells. So I helpfully mentioned a bath might be in order. Sampson hates baths.
And this is his “We are not amused” face.
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Normally we do this little dance. I run the bath. He hides, behind the couch, behind the curtains, or he will continually walk around the dining room table with me in slow pursuit.
Today he upped his little game and instead of hiding he chose to sit behind the one thing that could stop me from bugging him. His biggest fan and protector. Five of her six ends are pointy and she knows how to use them.
No? Hmmm. I wonder if he’s heard about Zeus’s bird catching abilities.
That’s right Zeus, my lab, catches birds.
He doesn’t hurt them. He simply catches them then stands around looking like a fool with wings flapping from both sides of his mouth.The birds freak out of course. Lab spit just isn’t a good cologne during mating season. Normally they prefer Old Spice.
I think he thinks they’re small planes. We live near an airport where many hobby planes are. I quite like them myself especially the old painted bombers. Zeus thinks he can catch them too. No such luck so far though.
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He’s been trying to catch this flicker, but he tends to stay up high. He looks like such a soft sweet bird but let me tell you when his suet is out that bird yells his fluffy little head off.
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So I told Zeus to stop catching birds. It’s weird.
To which he replied..
“Birds! I wasn’t catching birds! I was catching little planes!”
*sigh*
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In the meantime since my eyes are feeling a bit better I’ve been doing some quick sketch paintings to get back into the swing of things.
This is an acrylic of the sun setting over the Mississippi. It’s 5×7 and I spent about 20 or so minutes on it. It seems to me to be a bit off balance. The positive and negative spaces aren’t doing it for me. I do like the way the blues came out. They’re a combination of prussian blue, violet blue, olive green and naples yellow with a bit of white (all Liquetex brand).
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I also did this 8x 10 of my grandmother from a very crumbly photo circa 1920. There were parts of her face that were not distinguishable so I used my sister Yvonne’s face. She’s a cutie with lovely brown cow eyes.
This is also acrylic and I spent about 30 to 40 minutes on it. This is just a quick sketch for a real portrait eventually. I’m not sure why I signed it, I don’t remember doing that. It must just be habit or my mind is going, either way, it’s all good.
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I hope you all enjoy your first day of Spring and have some time to get out and smell the crocuses, crocusi? crocs maybe?
Deck the halls with singing doggies,
Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff
Tis the season to be froggy,
Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff
Tis the time to set up the tree
Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff
And Dummy, his old friends he can see
Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff
In poinsettias I take pleasure
Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff
Dummy thinks they’re a real treasure,
Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff
Fast away the old year passes,
Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff
Thanks for reading my blog, ye lads and lasses,
Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff
Since this blog is supposed to about art
Art art art art art art art art art
Here’s a mini duck I painted for th’art
Quack quack quack quack quack….
It’s lovely and has a large expanse of beautifully kept grass (seriously there’s no creeping charlie or crabgrass!!) that flows to a rather steep forested ravine where deer, rabbits, foxes, snakes, possums, raccoons, owls, turkeys and all sorts of other furred and feathered creatures frolic.
Unfortunately I also have a klutzy dog who likes to frolic too.
So there was Sampson frolicking and rollicking when he hit the steep part of the ravine.
And away he went.
I saw it in slow motion, he tumbled and rolled and tumbled some more….It was like watching a little furry snowball, flashing white against a backdrop of autumnal browns and purples and even though I appreciated the juxtaposition of colors, my heart stopped.
Anyway. I ran down, he ran past me going up. I ran back up.
Then I realized he couldn’t use his leg. And he was very sad. We had to go the vet.
My vet is in the town of Milan. If you read that and pronounced it like you would expect, you were wrong! It’s pronounced “my-land” and if you pronounce it the way most normal people on this planet pronounce it, they snicker behind your back and think you’re a fancy pants. My vet’s office however has the name of the town down the road on it even though it’s not in that town probably because people can pronounce that name. But Milan or My-land, I secured Sampson in my car and off we went.
At which point in a town of 5000 people, I ran into a traffic jam.I called the vet from the car. Don’t worry, I always keep my hands on the wheel. I have one of those Bluetooth things (though I don’t know why it’s called Bluetooth, the last time I checked my phone it did not have teeth nor was it blue). The phone works through my stereo and the buttons on my steering wheel, I’m not quite sure how it works but I think it involves small magic leprechauns and a cat named Henry. The first time someone called me I was listening to “Rock Lobster” loudly. It rang, and for a moment I thought the record had skipped then after a moment I remembered that it was not 1980 and deejays don’t use records anymore plus the odometer display was flashing what looked like my house phone number. Either my house was calling me or I had driven much further then I meant to. I panicked and pressed every button in my car and ended up listening to Muzak. I never did find out why my house called me. It’s never called again. I think it’s mad and wants new carpets.
But I digress. I called the vet to tell them I was stuck in a traffic jam and seeing as it is a town of 5000 people, they already knew.
There I was stuck in a traffic jam and I was looking around keeping myself occupied when Sampson’s window rolled down. I put it back up. And it rolled down. I put it back up. And It rolled down. I looked over at him. He looked at me. Then he smiled. And I realized that it was not an accident. Sampson knows how to work the buttons. That rotten dog can’t seem to figure out that’s it not a good idea to run amok in a steep ravine but he can figure out how to open a window. And to boot it was only 42 degrees out. I would have put the child locks on but I don’t know where they are and ever since the Muzak incident I’m little paranoid about touching anything. I sometimes get the feeling that the little magic leprechauns and the cat named Henry are very disappointed in me.
But after twenty minutes I managed to drive the block and a half to the vets and park. I went to gently pick up Sampson even though my hands were blocks of ice. He then jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs to the vets. On all four legs!
Son of a……..
To make a long story short (if you can believe that at this point, you’re, I’m sure a very nice person but gullible. You should work on that) Sampson did injure himself but not badly. He apparently has a floating patella. The vet showed me how to put it back if it slid again and gave him some anti-inflammatories (isn’t that a double negative, shouldn’t it just be flammatories). The vet said, it’s fairly common in small dogs and not a big deal. I’ve never had a small dog before Sampson. I did go home and ask Zeus how his patellas were and he said fine. And I asked how his parents’ and siblings’ patellas were. He wasn’t sure so he texted them and they texted back saying their patellas were just fine as well. There you go, it must be true.
All is well.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
And to my family who may have mistakenly assumed I’ve been in the kitchen baking all this time…you silly silly fools.. yes the brandy and eggnog is nearly gone but there will be pie and buttertarts.
It’s been a bit since I wrote a new post. It was mostly just laziness but I have a variety of excuses as well. Pick which ever one suits your frame of mind..
Excuse #1 …
I was watching my neighbor burn down his yard..
Yes the same neighbor who yells at me for watering even though I have rain barrels and an overflowing well. Yes the same one who thinks I gave his yard crabgrass even though I have none. The same guy who hates my maple tree and wants me to cut it down even though it has nothing wrong with it and it’s a pretty tree…and so on and so on….
What happened was that not realizing that I was home, he started to blow all his leaves into my yard so I casually took the dogs out.
And he blew them all back.
He made a 20 foot long pile in his yard, about 2 feet high. Since he couldn’t foist them off on me, he decided to mulch them with his riding lawn mower…
Well the pile was too high, the leaves ended up caught in his engine and
FIRE ! FIRE! FIRE!
He kept driving then did a double take (which I’ve never seen anyone outside the movies do before)
Then he was dancin’ and singin’ and movin’ to the groovin’ (Sorry, sorry had a moment of Funky Grooviness there, it won’t happen again)
But he was dancing and grooving and jumping up and down flailing his arms and he kept kicking the leaves all over and they kept burning farther and faster and further and faster as well.
I opted to watch from my living room and not let him know that I knew that he set his yard on fire. I’m nice like that. Plus I may possibly have been hysterically laughing… ahem..
Anyway at least his crab grass is gone. Who knew it was that flammable.
Excuse #2…
I was helping Sampson put together a performance piece. It involved putting my garden to bed for the winter and cleaning up leaves (while not setting the yard on fire, I mean he did want to juggle some flaming torches but I nixed that one much to his disappointment). Sampson’s art du jour was a mind numbing display of pumpkin abuse..
At this point your children should leave the room, it may be too much for them.
SQUISH!! SQUISH!!! SQUISH!!!!
That’s downright disturbing. Pumpkin abuse is wrong, people!!
But see, there isn’t any crabgrass.
Excuse #3…
Speaking of dogs, I was also trying in vain to get a nice dignified photo of Zeus.
I often see beautifully dignified labs in magazines. So I was determined to get one.
I swear they must drug those dogs in the magazines.
Don’t stick your tongue at me..rude I tell you…
Aw..Gee..I’m sorry…
Oh that’s okay.
We’ll try again.
No! Not dignified! Not dignified!
My attempts to take a dignified photo of Zeus are on temporary hiatus since he decided to introduce himself to a nest of yellow jackets and he’s allergic. He’s fine, sillier looking then normal but fine. *Sigh*
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I have actually done a couple little paintings. These are rough copies of some Christmas cards ideas.
Could you imagine if someone actually gave you a partridge in a pear tree? I would be miffed myself.
The second is in the style of Van Gogh, and is a snowman.. (I was pretty sure you can tell it’s a snowman but judging by the amount of weird Russian spam I get on this blog, I’d like to make myself clear. It’s a snowman and no I don’t want any mukluks.)
If you notice there is a bend in the corner. Sampson chewed on it for a bit.
He’s still a bit mad about not being allowed to juggle flaming torches.
My little ball of fluff with the big blue eyes passed away Saturday at the age of 23. She died in my son’s arms with Sampson by her side.
Minou was six pounds of dignity, disdain, fury and frivolity. She was so small and yet she meant so much.
Thank you Minou.
Thank you for the years of love and loyalty.
Thank you for waking me up every day. I now have to learn how to use an alarm clock.
Thank you for teaching every dog you met how to respect a cat. When we brought home a 150 pound mammoth of a dog from the SPCA, in less than a minute you taught him to never chase cats again. And he never did. He chased dogs. So that was helpful.
Thank you for your War on Earwigs. It started way back in ’89 and not once was it funded by taxpayer money. You fought well, you fought hard and you never gave up. Generations from now, tales of the Fury with the ice blue eyes will haunt the dreams of earwigs everywhere.
Thank you for eating my brown couch. You were right. It was ugly, it was old and yes, I do keep things for too long.
Thank you for making senility look fun. In the last year, I didn’t scold you for sitting on the dining room table because I knew that in your heart, you sincerely believed that you were sitting on the couch.
Thank you for biting every vet you met. Especially the arrogant young one in Colorado who insisted that it was easy to give a cat a pill. He tried for an hour and he still bears the scars today. He lost his arrogance and gained a much needed respect for small animals. Good girl.
Thank you for sitting with Max that noble dog as he lay dying, you licked his muzzle and you cried. Thank you for taking every puppy and kitten we brought in to your side. You trained them well, scolded them and babied them. And now they cry for you.
Thank you for sitting in my lap, purring and offering comfort when my child was sick, when my husband was at war, when my Dad passed away. I don’t tend to let people know when my heart is breaking. I’m silly, I make smart ass comments, I carry on. But you always knew. You were always there. Throughout the times of joy and the times of deepest sorrow. You were there. A little brown and black ball of fluff with big blue eyes purring and yowling and fussing.
Now the house is quiet and you lie under the purple mums by the forest’s edge.
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the purple dog painting blog 