Little Red Riding Hood

The gift of photography (and the good camera) is in the hands of my mother. So I occasionally prevail upon her to take pictures of my children (a task she willingly endures). To mark Saoirse's first year of life I wanted to captured her red hair, and the fairy tale character of Red Riding Hood seemed to be a perfect subject. So I hand-sewed every detail of her flowing cape, made a batch of ginger cookies, and sent her to Nana's house (my mother-in-law's darling English style cottage in the woods.) Here are a few of my favorite shots from the day.

 

 

 

 

Zechariah 4:6

For All Fathers and Sons

                                

Be more than his dad,
Be a chum to the lad;
Be a part of his life
Every hour of the day;
Find time to talk with him
Take time to walk with him,
Share in his studies
And share in his play;
Take him to places,
To ball games and races,
Teach him the things
That you want him to know;
Don't live apart from him,
Don't keep you heart from him
Be his best comrade,
He's needing you so!

Never neglect him,
Though young, still respect him,
Hear his opinions
With patience and pride;
Show him his error,
But be not a terror,
Grim-visaged and fearful,
When he's at your side.

Know what his thoughts are
Know what his sports are,
Know all his playmates,
It's easy to learn to;
Be such a father
That when troubles gather
You'll be the first one
For counsel, he'll turn to.

With courage, and fire him
You can inspire him                          
Hot with ambition
For deeds that are good;
He'll not betray you
Nor illy repay you,
I you have taught him
The things that you should.
Father and son
Must in all things be one --
Partners in trouble
And comrades in joy.
More than a dad
Was the best pal you had;
Be such a chum
As you knew, to your boy.

~Edgar A. Guest

Edgar Guest is to poetry what Norman Rockwell is to art. Simple rhymes and rhythms that capture the miracle of everyday life; the joys, the struggles, the simple truths. This poem is equally encouraging to me as a mother to my son as it was to my husband.

I Cannot Draw...

Lord Frederick Leighton (1830-1896)
Biondina
Oil on canvas, 1879
41.3 x 52.1 cm (16.26" x 20.51")
Hamburger Kunsthalle (Hamburg, Germany)

There are many mediums which are considered "Art," but usually the word applies to a picture captured by paint. I cannot draw, never could. I come from a family full of artists. In my house there is an oil painting from my grandpa, my sister did a beautiful pencil portrait of Roman and myself, my mother is skilled at paper crafts, and my father did some graphic design. Me, I am lucky if I can make a tree recognizable to a 5-year-old! Yet I have such a great admiration for the skill and talent of the artists in my family. How can they take what is seen or imagined and capture it with a few strokes of their hand?! It is such an amazing gift! If any of my children are so blessed I look forward to seeing how they capture the beauty of the world around them.

It is odd what strikes our fancy when we are young! The painting above is one I loved to stare at when I was little. I wanted to be just like that girl, she seemed so sweet and pleasant, and so comfortable with herself. I had not seen it in long time, and then it came up on Pinterest recently. I wonder who she was and what her life was like to give her such a serene countenance. It is as if the painter found her in the middle of a pleasant daydream. It is intriguing to catch people in such moments...How would you look in such a moment?

My Favorite Book

Okay, I have a lot of favorite books, but there are different kinds of favorites. There is one book that always seems new every time I read it. 'The Blue Castle' by Lucy Maud Montgomery of 'Anne of Green Gables' fame, never becomes boring to me.



When the heroine finds her man the tale goes:

'She was no longer unimportant, little old maid Valancy Stirling. She was a woman, full of love and therefore rich and significant - justified to herself. Life was no longer empty and futile, and death could cheat her of nothing. Love had cast out her last fear.

Love! What a searing, torturing, intolerably sweet thing it was - this possession of body, soul, and mind! With something at its core as fine and remote and purely spiritual as the tiny blue spark in the heart of the unbreakable diamond. No dream had ever been like this. She was no longer solitary. She was one of a vast sisterhood - all the women who had ever loved in the world.'

An Extra Gift

I found the thoughts on Simple Mom to be really stimulating this morning. I will go forward with a renewed vision of my own way of being an artist. Check out this post : We are all artists

From my little son