The clementines still delight us - we have a few left.
January 2010 Archives
After a month without them - not sure why, but they either weren't in the stores, or did not look very good - we have clementines in the house again. Will the little crate last the weekend? Maybe.
Reached into a junk drawer to find something to draw - and my yellow tape measure was there. (And I'd been wondering where it was...)
A pair of favorite cotton socks were worn out in sole and heel. What to do? Cut the feet off with nail scissors... and... new wrist warmers. Same lovely soft fabric as the socks. The cut end curls, rather than frays. They scrunch on nicely. Great for winter evenings in an old house.
Out of lemons. Cooked with lime tonight. Flavors similar, but head off at a slight tangent.
Recharging and connecting things at the end of the day.
Every angle is slightly different - the little carved soap house has such spirit.
Drawn with a fountain pen, though.
Some snow on the ground here. The sun shines through branches, throwing shadows across the road.
Leaning against the cabin wall... we're spending a couple of nights in a state park - a midwinter escape from the city into the woods.
Or mountain? I had some proofreading to do tonight, so it all depends on the point of view.
Dark, and late, and a window across the street shows me the tree branches in front of it: patterns of shadow, patches of light.
Quiet house - people asleep or reading. When I draw with white china marker on white paper, the waxy white line is almost invisible until I paint over it. That loss of control adds surprise, challenge, delight, irritation, and shakes me out of my previous way of thinking.
Looking toward a short week, after the holiday.
Alstroemeria, bought in a bunch at the grocery store yesterday, to brighten the dining room on a gray weekend. Today it rained. We have colds. The flowers remind me to think of spring, and the lengthening hours of daylight.
To celebrate the long weekend, various members of the household are in different stages of acquiring, enduring, or recovering from the same cold.
Stuffed tiger (an old friend) on top of Webster's Third (another old friend, even though I know I'm supposed to prefer the Second) on top of one of the tall bookcases in our bedroom. I didn't notice all the variations on stripes and parallel lines in this view until I slowed down to draw it. Late night, end of the week, and I get to notice something new...
Woolen socks - knit for my daughter last year. She wears them as an extra layer at the end of the school day, or around the house for coziness.
Held peanuts earlier this evening. Now empty.
Not looped around my hand at this point, or being used to steady the framing. On the table, attached to the camera which would soon photograph the drawing.
One brush pen, painted with another.
Snack.
Dotted lines - snowy trees against the sky. Some clearing, some sun, still cold. Woke this morning to the sound of happy laughter in the next room. Not Kauai roosters, but a splendid way to leave sleep.
Snow holiday today... and I am not catching a cold after all, and the weekend is now here.
Solitary. Monumental. Unclaimed. On the coffee table when I was ready to draw, so there you see it - a red candy wrapper.
We've had snow all week, but still only a few inches on the ground. More is said to be coming tomorrow afternoon and evening and on into Friday, with another 2" - 8" accumulation. I think they over-predict, to keep people cautious. I'd love to be socked in with a blizzard (and a good book), but I'm not expecting that to happen.
Not at all like the ones we got in Hawai'i - but they'll do.
Night snow. Steadily it falls... I wonder about sleeping in, sipping hot chocolate, reading one of my new books, and then with a loud rattle, our furnace comes on, I shrug my sweater a little closer, and realize that a holiday tomorrow is unlikely. But the city will be beautiful in the morning.
If what you see is the top half of a glass, half-full, then the glass is actually three-quarters full. (Sometimes the reasons for optimism are not completely in view.)
Orange, heavy, sweet. As the snow comes down outside, this reminds me of warmth and sunlight.
The coolness of our house preserved a lemon on the countertop just as if I'd remembered to put it in the refrigerator before we went away. Sometimes small mistakes work as well as advance planning. Happy New Year!
