Sale on canvas prints! Use code ABCXYZ at checkout for a special discount!
January 12th, 2013
Promise by Guest Artist Rosemary Claire Allen:
Welcome! Currently, I am an artist/naturalist living in between the mangroves and the uplands in SW Florida. My soul’s journey continues to lead me through a spiraling path as I endeavor to embody the natural world through the eyes of an artist. As a naturalist guiding others through our uplands and wetlands in SW Florida, wonder calls my name and I feel that I am a part of the ecosystems that surround me. Local flora and fauna become my neighbors and friends but the memories of old gardens long past often remain with me. My paintings and drawings are an out pouring of these connections that I experience. Guides in all shapes and sizes appear and disappear depending on the seasons and time of day.
~ Rosemary Claire Allen
Artist/Florida Master Naturalist
To view this amazing woman’s dedicated art journey please click:
http://www.watertopaint.com/
January 2nd, 2013
January 2nd, 2013
December 30th, 2012
December 25th, 2012
December 22nd, 2012
I Will Keep Broken Things
I will keep
Broken
Things:
The big clay
Pot
With raised
Iguanas
Chasing
Their
Tails;
Two
Of their
Wise
Heads
Sheared
Off;
I will keep
Broken
things:
The old
Slave
Market
Basket
Brought
To my
Door
By Mississippi
A jagged
Hole
Gouged
In its sturdy
Dark
Oak
Side.
I will keep
Broken
things:
The memory
Of
Those
Long
Delicious
Night
Swims
With
You;
I will keep
Broken
things:
In my house
There
Remains
An
Honored
Shelf
On which
I will
Keep
Broken
Things.
Their beauty
Is
They
Need
Not
Ever
Be
‘fixed.’
I will keep
Your
Wild
Free
Laughter
Though
It is now
Missing
Its
Reassuring
And
Graceful
Hinge.
I will keep
Broken
Things:
Thank you
So much!
I will keep
Broken
Things.
I will keep
You:
Pilgrim
Of
Sorrow.
I will keep
Myself.
Alice Walker
December 16th, 2012
A Light in the Darkness
An eerie darkness, leaves a
footprint behind, as the thud, thud
of walking grows louder…
it is amplified
as my heart ponders:
the gust of wind, that blows, blows…
and hear the
wail of the wind leaving behind
…the unspoken word of:
a light in the darkness.
Birds outside, fly into vast
amounts of freedom,
in between the wails of the wind.
Envy etched on my eye,
as animals of all sorts, tenderly
caress the unspoken word of:
a light in the darkness –
a faint glimmer of candle light
creeps in the crack of the curtain;
and whispers from the unspecified man:
“all will be fine”
he says.
A hope no longer as broken clay,
but clay smoothly put into place –
as the unspecified man
slowly glues broken clay together
in a mundane artwork
slowly awakening
a broken heart.
Celine Bergh
December 8th, 2012
December 2nd, 2012
Song for Autumn
In the deep fall
don’t you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think
of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.
Mary Oliver