|The Day the Sailboats Were Red, © 2018, Debra Smith acrylic on canvas|
Wednesday, June 20, 2018
Friday, June 15, 2018
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
|Not a very good painting-but here he is...|
No, Lion is gone. It's been a year.
His story starts without him.
I was walking along my road one cold spring morning and I heard a pitiful little mewing coming from the ditch.
Of course it was a kitten, but I had to really search to find it.
And there, huddled against some tall grass, shivering and tiny, was a black kitten. Big eyed, it looked to me for help. I picked it up and held it to my chest-it was cold and started purring much louder than I'd ever heard a cat purr. It was a black furry motor-I think purring to try to warm up as well as in thankfulness for a warm body and warm hands.
I was in love with that little fur ball.
It was like being hit in the heart with a blast of something wonderful. That little guy needed me and loved me instantly.
So, back home I made a little nest for it and tried to find out if it belonged to anyone. No, it didn't.
I wanted it.
But there was a problem. Our beloved daughter-in-law was severely allergic to cats. So I called my son, to see if it was possible for us to keep the cat-could medicine work for the allergy?
And that's when I found out what sacrifice for love was about personally. Oh yeah, I'd given money for stuff, given my time for stuff, made meals when I was dead tired, did lots of sacrificing (so I thought.)
This was different.
I loved that little black kitten. I rescued him. He loved me. He needed me too.
But I also loved my daughter-in-law.
Tearfully I made the choice after calling everyone I knew who had cats, "Want a sweet little kitten?" and asking at our church.
Luckily, we have a no kill shelter, so we took the little black kitten. Truthfully, I don't think he got adopted because the lady who helped us with the paperwork fell in love with the little black furball, and I think he went home with her.
Heartbreak. I missed the purring, the total trust.
Who would show up unexpectedly in our yard the very next day but this sortof beatup looking orange cat? Feral for sure. I asked neighbors-one said he had ended up in their haveaheart trap. But he ended up in our yard, just for me.
I fed him from a window at first.
He mostly hated me and didn't mind showing me how much he hated me.
I never could get closer than about 2 feet.
He was a warrior but he never let me see him kill my wild birds. He was a good hunter, but came for food and tolerated me begrudgingly.
It was about this time last year that I had my last look at him.
I love this story in my life because I feel that God was watching. He knew I loved that little black kitten, and He knew what it cost me to give it up for love of my daughter in law.
And He gave me Lion. For a while.
Monday, June 11, 2018
Friday, June 8, 2018
My husband and I were walking around our yard and found this mushroom city. I'm pretending the big thing on the right is where all the little critters that live in the mushroom city go for vacation.
We have rabbits of all sizes and nationalities living with us. So far they have all understood a FENCE.
My lettuce is so good!
More salvias to plant! I have become addicted to them. Lowe's has the best ones in my area. They were covered with bumblebees when I was shopping. Rabbits do not like them.
Just plain worn out from gardening!
Two new books I'm reading. I'm really not much of a doodler, but this book is very creative and has wonderful art in it. The "Drawing in Black and White" book is also very beautiful.
Two paint-doodles I did recently.
have a lovely weekend!
Sunday, June 3, 2018
A few months ago I did a lot of painting. This is one of the paintings that I love.
We live next to some goats. For a long time, they were our only neighbors. Their people were tending them many times a day, but lived a few miles away. Now the people have a beautiful house behind the goat barn.
But before the people lived there-the goats did, with chickens, ducks, pea hens, watch dogs, a few cats tossed in.
I walk past this wonderful farm every morning.
And the goats watch me.
I painted a numbered series, which were not at all related to one another except for being numbered. Somehow, the numbers seemed important to me.
I hope to reproduce these little paintings someday, but for now I'd just like to show them to you.
It doesn't seem right to plaster my name across a painting.
So let me tell you how close my art is to me.
I take it very personally. When I hear of people's art being stolen and copied-it's a personal violation-you have been robbed of something inside you that is so very dear to your heart. And the robber doesn't care at all.
I won't bother to write about this again, I'm only hoping I will not be a victim.
Please, don't save others' pictures or photos of their art-even if it's just on your own computer.