Friday, July 6, 2018

Oh Robin.

 I had been watching this little fellow for 2 days and finally saw his mom feeding him. I cried with relief (yes, I really did) because I was fearful he didn't have his parents anymore (we have all kinds of bird-eaters here).
So I prayed for this beautiful little bird.

It meant a lot to me that I saw his mom feeding him.
 And later, I saw him on a branch sitting beside his mom-her so big and protective, him-tiny and needing her so much.
 I was also very glad that he was finally afraid of me. When I first started watching him, I got within 2 feet from him and could have gotten closer, but I knew it was not good to do that. Of course I did not touch him. I raised a baby robin so I knew just how difficult it was. After all, I'm not a bird. And I got very emotionally attached to that bird. I was helped all the way by a wildlife rehabber. I remember one frantic phone call to her-"This bird won't leave! He won't fly off on his own!" I cried. "Yes he will."
He did.
I miss him still, and that was 15 years ago.
 So I got some good photos of this beautiful young robin just days ago. And I wanted to share them with you. Please Pin, save, print, make cards, paint from the photos, do whatever.
 "Here's lookin' at you, kid..."

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

painting radishes.

Straw, Radishes and Fork, ©2018, Debra Smith, acrylic on stretched canvas, 20"x16"
Quick, not very good photo of my most recent painting.
I was very proud of the radishes I grew this year.
They were delish!

Monday, July 2, 2018

Be careful what you click on.

©2018 Debra Smith, acrylic
This is a painting I did last winter. I just picked it out at random for this post-no reason. Just a warning: Don't click on links if you look at your 'stats' on Blogger, and see odd or new entry pages listed. There are some disgusting  (no other way to put it) sites that only want you to click on them and you won't like what you see.
The world is not a safe place any more.

Not like it seemed to be when I was a kid, and used to hang out in my grandpa's barn...

Friday, June 15, 2018

Blue Jay, ©2018 Debra Smith, acrylic on cradled basswood
Pretty wacky.
Must be the strawberry Twizzlers....

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

The Lion Story

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?
No.

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.
BUT...
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.