Fiery Cheetah

I love fireworks.  This year I used a different setting specific to fireworks and the result was some amazing photography.

As you know I often see things in clouds and nature.  This time I saw something in the fireworks.  At first I thought it might be a dragon--but as I worked with the original, it turned into a cheetah.

Above you see my original photograph. Do you see the cheetah?  If truth be known, it really could be a  dragon.  In time, I am sure there will be a wee dragon born from this same fiery photograph.

Have a lovely weekend friends!

The Branch

October 2007, I nearly died.

I contracted a "flesh eating" staph infection in my foot. For three days my doctors were not sure I would make it. I later learned there was a 73 % chance that I would not. If my family had not insisted I go back to emergency when I did, I would have lost my foot, my life--or both.

I knew something was terribly wrong. Though no one had said so I knew I could die. Lying in the hospital bed, not knowing what the future held, I prayed that God would spare my life. I promised Him I would use my artwork to bring joy to people's hearts. I asked Him for a new way of "seeing."

Four months later (still using my cane), in an obscure park in Stevenson, Washington, I shot this photo in a thicket along the edges of the great Columbia River. When I first saw the naturally altered branch in it's lovely setting against those moss-covered boulders, I could not believe my eyes. What you see here is exactly what I saw--only I added two little sparkles to emphasize The Branch.

Since then, I've found even more amazing photos in nature. Perhaps to say that God has given me a special gift of "seeing," is presumptuous, but there seems to be no other explanation.

I am grateful for my life, for the ability to walk unhindered--for the joy of "seeing" hidden pictures in nature. My life will never be the same.

Icy Lace

The cold beauty of our first winter snow is especially lovely as you see it here--captured in the icy lace of the curly willow trees near our home.

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A few hours after I shot this photo, the silver thaw began in earnest, covering everything with nearly an inch of ice.

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We heard burdened trees and branches breaking, popping and crashing all around us. One big oak tree lost a huge limb, which fell onto a nearby home, crushing down through the roof into the room below. Thank God no one was hurt.

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I had a bad fall myself. I accidentally stepped onto an invisible patch of ice on the cement steps of our front porch. I have been very sore since I fell, but that doesn't matter as much as the fact that my beloved camera broke. I would appreciate your prayers. It is silly, but when the camera broke, I felt like I had lost a part of myself.

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Next week, I will see how much it will cost to either fix or replace my camera. Though truthfully, right now we cannot afford to do either.

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However, though I grieve over the loss of my camera, I am also grateful for the wonderful photos I was able to shoot before I broke it. I haven't looked at all of the pictures I took yet. In fact, the photo you see here is one of the first I've seen--I am so excited to discover what other imaginative images I was able to catch.

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The truth is, if one looks hard enough, even when bad things happen, there is always something for which to be thankful.

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Happy New Year, and God bless you dear friends.

My Paintbrush--Dance of Brush and Page

I love the feel of the worn smoothness of my beloved paintbrush. I balance its span in my fingers--Ah, fits perfectly. I slide one side of feathery brush ends into red acrylic, the other into blue. What picture will be born from my thoughts?

It is a mystery for now.
I begin with small hushed strokes. The paint sweetens my empty canvas with color. Red and blue sweep into soft purple.

Rinse, swirling colors into water. Clean brush snaps into yellow and green. Small motions, growing larger with the painting's message. Then delicate spatters of pink and white spit from my brush onto the canvas.

Swish swirl, then there is brown. Dashes of red ferment the mix. Long thin brush, tiny lines form details and outlines. Harsh fissured faces warm with smiles, emerge from trunks of trees splendid with purple, blue and rose blossoms...

Tis a springtime forest, peopled with trees.