Panthers and mysteries

Once, a long time ago, Gods roamed the land.  They claimed the sky worlds and they stalked the Underworld.  The Sun, Moon, Morning Star and the Thunderers kept the stability and order while the creative, fertile, yet chaotic forces charged up from the Underworld from the Corn Mother and beings like the underwater panther.  We humans lived in a liminal place - the Middle world, full of beings in its own right: Hawk, the Horned Serpent, and the spirits of plants, trees, and rocks.

Of course, as a Pagan, I know this is still true.  Gods and spirits abound.   

I had a dream not long after I moved into this house.  I was walking on a high bank along a shallow creek on a bright sunny day.  I was fascinated by the water - it was so clear, I had no trouble seeing each and every rock on the bottom as if I held them in my hands.  Suddenly, I saw something moving beneath the water, a mountain lion.  I was seeing the top of its head and back, even though the water was only a few inches deep.   It stalked along the creek bottom until suddenly it launched itself straight up and right at me.  Its claws and teeth missed me by mere inches as I jerked backwards in surprise and it fell back into the creek bed.  This was no flesh and blood feline.  It was composed entirely of water.

The underwater panther is a figure from a group of peoples archeologists once called the South Eastern Ceremonial Complex.  They were also moundbuilders.  In some surviving stories from later peoples, it is said that a meeting with such a being will either heal you or kill you.  I'm not sure what that says about mine.  I only know that I had never heard about any such things before the dream.  The dream was so vivid and I could hear the sound of the water as it rippled through the bed as well the crash it made as when the cat fell back into the creek.  Was it just a dream?  I'm not so sure.  It is something I still ponder to this day. 

I had intended to write about some of the deities I work with today but sometimes, the muse has other ideas.  I asked myself if this fulfills the prompt for this week: "an opportunity for you to share with everyone those who guide, inspire and inform you."  I'm not entirely sure it does, not in the strict deity/divine way.  Still, sometimes it's the mystery of a thing that is the inspiration.  No one ever started out on a quest because they had all the answers.    

Things I do

I don't know why I am drawn to do this entry.  Check that, I guess I do.  I started blogging all those years ago because I needed an outlet that allowed me to open up and speak my mind.  It was a way to build confidence.  I find myself needing it again.  Despite appearances on Facebook, I feel I have been saying less and less.  At least, I feel I have been speaking with less...substance.  It's time to change that.  What better way to begin than to write about my Pagan experiences? 

In many ways, it seems to be too personal, too private to speak of my spirituality or my practice.  Plus, right now I don't have any one daily practice, although I do catch myself looking at a certain plaque I sculpted and just talking to the one it represents.  More often or not, I talk to Him almost as if He were a hennish best friend (as embarrassing as it is to admit that,) but it suits Him.  I do talk to Him more seriously at times but I can't stay serious for long.

I used to have a more witchy practice - the candles, the incense, the circles and spells.  I still enjoy many of those things.  I love how centering it is to sit and recite a rosary to the Star Goddess or to gaze into a candle's flame.  I still sometimes draw sigils and give offerings, whether it is in return for something done or just because I want to do so.  Lately, however, I have been going a more shamanic route. 

I took some classes in Core Shamanism many years ago from a student of Michael Harner but they fell apart when we couldn't keep a decent number of people in our drumming circle.  While I later read books like Harner's and Caitlin Matthews' Singing the Soul Back Home, the lessons I learned then didn't stick until all these years later.   

I won't do it every day but I try to journey at least once a week.  I love the feeling I get from riding the drumbeat through the worlds.  I love the exploration and the feeling of cooperation and connectedness I feel throughout (well, with the exception of that one flower.  It let me know in no uncertain terms what it thought of humans but I have to admit I liked its grumpy, cantankerous self.)   I also try to leave room afterward to let my experiences percolate through my brain.  I feel that to do it more often, especially without reflection and that percolation, is to risk becoming something of an Otherworlds Tourist, tripping through Worlds and not getting anything much of worth out of the experience.  I will not do that to my Gods and my allies.      

I have heard people ask and I have asked the question myself, "Are the things that happen during journeys real?"  My teacher's answer was that if you get something good out of it, does it matter if it's real or not?  I have to admit, it is a good answer.  Then again, there are the times I got some bit of information on a journey and it turned out to be right on target.  I also remember picking Michael Harner's book Cave and Cosmos and as I flipped through it, seeing a hand drawn map showing a place I had visited in my journeys and never mentioned to anyone.  There were other accounts of people having very similar experiences to mine.   

I think I have my answer on that score.  Something is certainly going on the 'is it real' front.   

Test, test, test

Let's see how this app works, shall we?  I like the idea of being able to blog from my phone. 

This May - Or May Not - Have Happened.

Here I am, walking through another endless antique mall as the folks look for yet another obscure piece of glassware.  At least it's one of the more interesting malls.  It's a little junky, which means I might have a shot at finding something really quirky and neat. 

I see an old, black rotary phone sitting all alone on a table a few booths ahead.  I have to admit to a bit of nostalgia when I see it.  We had a rotary wall phone when I was a kid - complete with the party line we could hardly ever use because of old Ms. Carr constantly gossiping to her friends.  I see this phone doesn't have the phone line that connected it to the wall jack.   

I walk closer to the phone, curious about the price.  Just as I reach for the tag, imagine my surprise when the thing rings.  Out of curosity, I can't resist answering it. 

"Hello?"

I hear a deep, ominious voice on the other end.  "You better watch your back." it says.  I'm so startled, I don't know what to say.
"I know what you've done.  Did you think you could commit such a blaphesmy and not be noticed?  You can't hide from me, much less the entire celestial army.  I will make damn sure you will burn in the deepest depths of hell for this travesty, Leonard Trapaski."


Are you kidding me?  I get a phantom phone call and it's a wrong number?  I finally find my voice and say, "Who?!"

There is a startled silence on the other end of the phone.  "Who is this?"

"Definitely not Leonard Trapaski," I say in my unmistakable for anything but feminine voice.

More startled silence. 

"Oh....um....uh...my bad.  I...um...have a...uh...haveaniceday."

I hear a click and then the silence of a dead phone.  I find myself looking at the handset, down the phone and back to the handset before I put it back into the cradle.  Maybe I'm not as interested in the old phone as I thought.  Of course, now I'm wondering why exactly Leonard Trapasky has an entire celestial army of angels after him. 

Perhaps I'll just let that one pass.  Who knows who - or what - will be calling next.

Drunken Chaos Reigns in Sumner County

Joannie Higgenbotham, Staff Writer

Firefighters and Emergency Rescue were called to a residence outside of Portland today.  What they found when they arrived was unexpected and put several of the respondents lives in danger, as well as the surrounding neighborhood.


T. Phineas Rex, of Portland, had been drinking when he fell off the table he had been using as a sundeck.  Mr. Rex fell two feet, injuring his left arm.  When Emergency rescue arrived, Mr. Rex was in a drunken rage, yelling "It's the extinction all over again, man!"  He then proceeded to lunge at EMTs and firefighters while claiming they were "out to get him."  During the melee, Mr. Rex snapped his teeth and swiped his tail at those present, knocking down one EMT and ripping the coat of a firefighter.

Mr. Rex then entered a neighbor's yard where he proceeded to climb onto a dog and ride it as it ran, frightened, around the neighborhood.  After several minutes, Mr. Rex fell off the dog and passed out in a nearby yard.             

One of Mr. Rex's neighbors, who would only identify herself as Azra, witnessed the episode.  All she would say about the incident was, "Been hitting the cider again, has he?" 

Mr. Rex is now resting at home.  No one was injured but charges of Public Intoxication and Endangerment are pending. 
     

30 Days (or so) meme: Why I am Pagan

Well, I figured it's high time I joined in the 30 Days meme.  That's me - join in after everyone else had done it and moved on.   Plus, it's hard for me to talk about my beliefs.  Faith is such a personal, private thing. 

So...I've got the headphones on and Voltaire's singing Oh Lord.  Let's rock this thing, shall we?      

Day 1 - Why Paganism?

Short answer?  It's one of the few faiths I explored that allowed me to be myself.  It also allows for the mystery of the world to be real, without excusing it as simply being an illusion. 

When I was a kid, we went a nearby Cumberland Presbyterian church.  Except for my grandmother, we weren't a very religious bunch.  Church was just Something You Did.  I remember Sunday School could be interesting - the older kids would start talking to the teacher about the latest horror movies they've seen or something they did during the week.  Surely, we worked through the lessons but I don't remember them.
               
I do remember some of the mystery of the church.  I remember at Easter when the "juice and crackers" were passed around.  The preacher would talk about how they were the body and blood of Jesus but whenever I saw them, they'd change back into crackers and grape juice.  I also remember constantly looking up at the sky because I had been told "God is watching you!"  It was like always being under the gaze of a third parent was way more stern than my mom or dad.  He'd send me away forever just because he didn't like something I did.
   
When I hear about seeing the world as a child would, this is what I think about.  Never did catch a glimpse of that guy that was always watching, either.

I started questioning things when I was about twelve.  My parents had divorced two years before and my dad was going to a Southern Baptist church.  I did. Not.  Like. It.  AT ALL.  There was no mystery.  No wonder.  Just a bunch of people who came to See and Be Seen.  Oh yeah, there was some guy standing up front talking about how we were all wrong too. 

This was also about the time I began walking the woods behind our house after school.  I couldn't wait to get home every day because I had a good three hours before my got home from work and I could go looking for a mystery.  I would have at least one cat journeying with me, usually more.  The trees were my friends.  I once followed the path of a turkey vulture flying overhead and found a spot I had never visited that was very sacred and magical.  The pawpaw tree growing through a pile of rocks was a faery mound.  Where did the water in the spring come from and were there caves in the bluffs at the top of the hill?  Where would they go if I found them?  What lived in the woods besides the cows and deer?  (I longed to catch a glimpse of Bigfoot but hoped I wouldn't too.)  The world was alive and full of joy.        

This is why I'm Pagan.  Now, not only the world but the universe is alive and full of joy.  The sky is full of bright, distant stars but it is part of the body of Her as well.  The sun is not simply a flaming ball of gas but it is also Ra on His Barque, protected by Set and Khnum as it travels through the Underworld at the end of the day.  At the same time, I sit vigil every Yule so the Sun will rise. 

Someone has to.  If the world forgets its stories, it forgets its reasons for being alive.  Life just becomes drudgery, a ceaseless routine of colorless chores.  I don't want that to happen on my watch, mister.                    

A little helpless...

Yesterday, upper Sumner County and parts of Allen and Simpson Counties in Kentucky were under the gun.  Tornado warnings lit up the map.  I was sitting with the kids when I heard those words no one ever wants to hear:  "The rotation is right over (the road I was on) so if you're in that area, you want to get to your safe area right now."

 I stood in the front door at the one point and said a small prayer: "Oh, Set.  Turn Your Eye away from here."  I had to wonder too if we had time to get to the neighbors - there was no way I wanted any of us to be a cliche.  "All those houses and that thing went straight for the trailer!"  Been there, done that.    

Once again, I found myself feeling a little helpless.   The oldest kid started getting scared and wanted the two of us to go hide from the storm.  Apparently, he felt his little brother could fend for himself (then again, he wasn't even fazed.  He put his shoes on and wanted outside to play before he got distracted by a video game.)  I've tried to help this kid deal with his fears in the past but it hasn't stuck.  I'm not even sure I know what I'm doing anyway plus they get such conflicting messages from their parents.
 
I know he's four years old.  I know he's not capable of understanding things like an adult would.  I also remember being terrified myself when a storm would blow up because of the tornado that blew away our trailer when I was four.  I would nearly wear the floors out where I would walk from window to window, trying to keep watch so the tornado wouldn't sneak up on me.  I wasn't able to deal with the fear until I was in my 20's and I would hate to see him having to do the same thing.  I would hate it even more if he stayed terrified for his entire life. 

A Dream Fragment

I am at home in Bethpage, in the living room. The room looks like it did in the late 70's/early 80's and it is well lighted. At least one lamp is on, casting a warm yellow glow around the area yet most of the room is lit by white, midday sunlight. I am watching an adaption of a Neil Gaiman book on TV and I am loving it. 

  My mom is here as well. We are watching one segment of the show and I get excited. I know they are about to show Dream but I start almost yelling, "Oh my god! Death! They're going to show Death!" Then there He is - Dream. Instead of the 'adult' Dream, they show a young one. 

During a commercial break, we talk about the show and she asks, "Have you ever seen him?" I know she means Neil. I say that yes, I have seen photos of him. She makes a face of disgust and implies that she did not like his looks. I say, "Oh yeah!" but I can't find the words to say exactly why I like him.

 The show comes back from break. Now I am a part of the story instead of an observer. One of the characters has to do some kind of ritual. One part is to wash something in hot water, which she does with no problem. Next, the ritual calls to bathe the something in cold water that has been carried in three baskets, a small red one and a medium white one and a large white one. None of them are not water tight in the least. I am the one who has to figure out how to do it. I am in a kitchen that exists both inside a building and outside. Against one wall is a steel sink with a wooden island across from it. I pull my copy of the book out of my pocket (I don't know the name of it but it is not an existing book in waking life) to see how it is done. I am trying to fill in a steel sink the baskets when I wake up.

Reboot v. 941547244AppleDeltaFish126458.3

Well, it's cloudy with a chance of rain today.  I'm assuming Set was successful in protecting Ra and His solar barque on the journey through the night.  We're all still here and the world isn't slowly being covered in ice...yet.  That rain may still prove otherwise, if it comes.  

I've been trying my best to get back into the blogging spirit for days.  It seems that if I'm not just sitting and staring at the screen, I'm way, way into TMI land.  While I'm sure the TMI has potential of  grabbing me ones of new readers, I've had entirely too much grief this past year and don't want or need any more.  It's been nearly too much to deal with as it is.   That's not to say that I won't have a fit of...something or another and the TMI will show its face anyway. 

"Anything worthwhile is dangerous." - Victor Anderson
The last twelve months have certainly proved that.  While it has been very tough - mentally, emotionally and spiritually - I have to say I wouldn't change it for the world.  I thought I knew what I was made of before.  Now I'm more sure.  Of course, this knowledge comes with a wish to go back several years in time  to those folks who gave me no end of grief and insisted I was an "Earth Mother"...and kick the everloving shit out of them for being right.  Hell, they needed kicking anyway.  They were jerks. 

Some of the lessons I've dealt with in this past year involved strength.  I found myself in a situation where I had to deal with bullying and verbal abuse while caring for a loved one.  I had never seen this side of the person, although I had certainly heard about it.  I was shocked when it reared its ugly head to me.  While I didn't exactly deal with it with grace and aplum, I did my best.  I do not put up with overgrown, obnoxious brats. 

Other lessons are harder to deal with.  They are hard because they deal with the heart.  Again, I have not dealt with them with grace and aplum...more with tears, incomprehension and depression.  Although  I have been engaged in the past and certainly cared for that person; I wasn't sure that I was really capable of love.  Well, I'm sure now.  I found someone that, after everything, I love more than anything but I can't give him the one thing he asked of me.  I can't just be a friend to him.  At least, not now.  Not after all those trips to the movies, to church and to the mountains.  Not after all that laughter and silly stuff we've shared.  Not after the conversations we've had while driving down the road - even the serious topics he couldn't believe I got him to talk about, like what heaven would be like and whether anyone other than Christians would go there.  I can't just be a friend after trying to be there for him when he got down after a friend's wedding or those rare times he talked about his dad's alzheimer's.  I can't be a friend after seeing how he got when they tried to screw him over a job he absolutely loved and his trying to decide whether to stay with it, find another job or possibly even striking out on his own with a repair shop.  I can't be a friend after knowing how much he wants kids and realizing, after all these years of being an avowed child free person, that yeah - kids with him would be great.

Don't get me wrong.  He isn't perfect.  He is bossy and can be fairly critical when things aren't done the way he would do them.  He is hardheaded and sometimes sees the world in terms of black and white.  Sometimes, he can't see what's right in front of him for things that are in the distance, be it in the past or the 'could be.'  There are a few things I'm not even going to mention for fear of the dear readers' fragile - or even not so fragile - stomachs.  No, he is far from perfect but perfection is overrated anyway...but at the moment, I guess it doesn't matter what I think. 

Well.

I guess I finally got something written, huh?  Even if it's a soliloquy on that guy (I hope it doesn't sound stalkerish!)  Now to keep the writing up for more than just one entry and get more sketches and paintings up here.

Have a good day, y'all and thank you for reading this far.  I'll leave you with a prayer from T. Thorn Coyle:

Holy Mother, in whom we live, move and have our being, from you all things emerge and unto you all things return...

Open our hearts this blessed day.  Touch our bodies and our minds.  Walk with us through the gates of power, in shadow and starlight, in fire meeting earth, in wind on the ocean and the sweet kiss of life. 

Blessed be our journey. 

A few things...

One thing learned:  no more playing with background color behind the text.  It comes through the feeds looking like a FOIA document.

Well, for good or ill, here are a few paintings...

6" x 9"
Oil on birch
This was a quick, end of day study.  He took over my chair while I was painting and I couldn't resist.  I'll probably go in and clean up that lower right corner sometime but otherwise, I like it. 

And here he is from the front: 

"Oh good god.  Another damn photo?"

I love my Japanese rabbit.  This is a study I'll finish as soon as I figure out how to do the copper bits on the brushes.  That is what's stumping me at the moment - I know I just need to sit down and draw them but I guess I decided to take the hard road and you know, not draw them. 
The shadows need something too - I'll tinker with them.  Maybe.

6" x 6" Oil on primed watercolor paper

I was thinking of those old Silver Stream campers when I began this one.  This is a possible entry for this year's tomato festival.  That is if I can get it to come together a little better.  It's better than it was - I completely redid it this morning.  I got entirely too fiddly and overworked the hell out of it.  So reboot. 

It has potential.  Somewhere in there. 

9" x 12"

Oil on birch

That's it for now, y'all.  Have a good one.

The Art Police

Neil Gaiman gave a great speech at the University of the Arts back in May.  In it, he talks about something I struggle with all the time, despite my brave declaration (rambling?) in the last post.

He said:
"The first problem of any kind of even limited success is the unshakable conviction that you are getting away with something, and that any moment now they will discover you. It’s Imposter Syndrome, something my wife Amanda christened the Fraud Police.

In my case, I was convinced that there would be a knock on the door, and a man with a clipboard (I don’t know why he carried a clipboard, in my head, but he did) would be there, to tell me it was all over, and they had caught up with me, and now I would have to go and get a real job, one that didn’t consist of making things up and writing them down, and reading books I wanted to read. And then I would go away quietly and get the kind of job where you don’t have to make things up any more."

Oh yes.  I know the Fraud Police well.  I call them the Art Police.  Sometimes, I see them as Men In Black - the weird, anachronistic ones rather than Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith.  I would be there, standing in front of the easel when they drive up in their 1940's but brand new looking sedan.  They would get out of the car and in their strange, robotic voices, tell me they were on to me and I would have to put down the brush and stop Right This Minute  because I was perpetuating a major fraud on the world and if I didn't, then Dire Things may happen.  I may even have to ask people if they want fries with that.

I'd like to say that I always know how to deal with the Art Police.  I don't.  Sometimes, yes, I can turn the imagery on its head and invite the MIBs to sit down and have some tea.  I can question every Dire Thing they threaten me with and they stutter and stammer.  But just as often, I still get caught in the trap and their lies about the Dire Things, especially when those Dire Things seem to happen when things are starting to go well.

Yes, it happens sometimes.

That's when I just have to remember - and sooner or later, I do - the Art Police don't have any power over me, unless I give it to them.  That goes for crazymakers and busybodies too.

Art isn't some elitist thing.  There is no "You must be this educated/talented/crazy" bar to stand next to in order to get on the ride.  All that is required is that you show up and do the work.  The ride takes care of itself.     

What I know

Now that I've got a decent, and more importantly - reliable, internet connection I don't have any excuse not to update these blogs, eh?  Art will be forthcoming, once I get used to the idea of being able to show off a bit again. 

In the meantime, I'm going back to the original premise of this blog.  I started blogging way back when there was still a Geocities and I thought it inconceivable to fill up a whole *2 MG* of disk space.  I did it as a way to gain a bit of self - confidence.  I need a bit of that again. 

I've also decided to be a little more out there in regards to my paganism.  I've always been a little reticent about talking about it, mainly because I haven't had the most consistent schooling.  I don't have any degrees or lineage in a tradition.  I certainly know I'm not the wisest person in the world.  You know what?  While I am always open to learning and growing, I not sure I care about all that anymore. 

I may not know all the correspondences of every herb or stone listed somewhere in a book.  I could care less about planetary hours or if the moon is void of course.  I do know better but I can't help thinking every time I hear that the moon has suddenly left its orbit and going to go crashing into the earth or something.  

What I do know is the moon and sun don't just go from East to West.  Over the course of a month or year, they trace a lemniscate in the sky - an infinity symbol.  I know there is a star that marks the seasons - it appears in a different "corner" of the moon - upper left, upper right, lower right and lower left. 

I know the cycles of life.  I see Her in them, from the fresh maidenhood of spring plants to the lush bounty of the mother in summer.  I see the coming of the crone in the fall and the faceless one in the clean, cold sleep of winter.  I see it repeat every year. 

I also see those cycles are also spirals.  Animals born, plants sprouted.  Mice and critters get eaten by the cats and the neighbor's cows and horses eat the plants.  The spiral moves onward and upward with those left behind.  New generations of animals born.  New seeds scattered.   Life moves on.

When it comes to magic, most times I use what is around me.  Five finger grass and yarrow are native plants here.  So is vervain, although I haven't found it yet.  Oak, hickory, cedar and black locust are abundant here.  I have a few herbs growing in the yard but mostly, I use what is wild. 

So, yeah, I suppose I am fairly ignorant when it comes to many forms of paganism.  I never claimed to be a wise person anyway but this is what works for me.   Apparently They are satisfied with it, as well.  I suppose that is all that matters.   

A gardener's tale...

I've been harvesting the seed from my arugula and purple kale plants.  I have to, especially after the last time.  I didn't know.  I just.  Didn't. Know.

I was looking forward to huge bowls of salad when I first planted them.  All those purple and green leaves.  Gourmands called them 'spicy,' but most folks I knew just said they were bitter.  My plans worked well - bowls and bowls of salads came out of my patch.  Arugula, kale, romaine.  Sweet lettuces too, to balance the bitterness: oak leaf, grand rapids, black seeded simpson.  I had them all. 

When the arugula bloomed, I daydreamed about even more salads.  Same with the kale.  The plants were prolific, putting out thousands of seed and dispersing them before I even realized they were ready.  Again, I didn't think much about it.  I just thought I'd find plants in strange places for the next few months. 

Then the people started disappearing all across northern Sumner County.  One or two at first then more.  It soon spread to southern Kentucky and beyond.  No one knew what to think about it.  The people were just...gone.   

Someone soon noticed there was arugula growing in every place a person had disappeared.  A few plants by a front door.  Several hidden beneath the weeds by a hiking trail.  Later, people noticed purple kale growing in some of those places as well. 

They had gotten smart.  They had gotten hungry.

The authorities got curious and dug up some of the plants.  It was horrible.  Bits of synthetic fibers, rubber soles from shoes and tiny bone fragments were found tangled within the roots.  No one knows to this day how they managed to dig the them up without becoming a part of the debris.  Especially now that we know how the plants fed themselves. 

You see, somehow what they were getting out of the ground wasn't enough anymore.  They needed more.  Somehow, both the arugula and kale developed facile roots.  They were certainly strong  enough to grab any passing animal, including humans, and drag them beneath the loose soil and feed on at their leisure.  It was no surprise when several horrified people in a local park caught them on film, on the move to their next feeding grounds.   

After that, the extermination program began.  The plants were attacked with extreme menace whenever they were found.  New plantings of arugula and kale were banned.  It was a hard fight and we almost lost.  Like I said, the arugula is very prolific.  The kale isn't far behind. 

So I've found some of the plants trying to hide in my garden.  I trapped them before they could feed on anything.  In my mind, turnabout is fair play and I'll eat as many of them as I can find...and keep them from spreading more seed throughout the county.

That's why I have to stay on top of harvest.       

Sketches and potential paintings...maybe.

This has been a month for getting images on paper that I've been struggling with for ages. The exceptions are the unicorns but even they came out better than they have in the past.

Click for a bigger image.


I remember the dream this faery appeared in, even though it was back in the '90's. She lived near a streambed and I, along with two others, had to repair it after it had been damaged. I never knew what happened to the streambed, just that she thought we had done it. I remember thinking I had to watch my p's and q's because she could actually kill us if we accidentally insulted her. We managed to fix the stream to her satisfaction. Thank the gods - even if she didn't kill us, I wouldn't want to be whacked with that stick.


This is another dream image that has stuck with me. I remember dreaming I was on an island when two unicorns came trotting out of the water. I love how the horn isn't in the usual place. Here, I just played with the idea of a mare and colt, especially how the colt's horn would be just starting to grow.


I'm going to have to refine this one for a painting, if only for myself. It's another idea I've played with for a few years and just couldn't get it to work.

I like the little one with her eyes shut tight. I imagine her sounding a little like Ike from South Park: "Oh no...." I also like the farmer just waving away, like flying through the air over an alien landscape is an everyday thing. He may even be yelling, "Hello! Nice night, isn't it?!"

A few goofy cartoons

As usual, click to embiggen


Hee - I should probably stay inside during the next few (twenty, thirty) storms...


I remember that day. It was the umteenth day in a row of near 100 degree heat and bazillion percent humidity. I was sitting at the table after switching out sketchbooks because it seemed my new one was soaking up half the humidity out of the air and my pencil felt like it was dragging through the damp pulp. It was the middle of the afternoon and I thought, "That's it. I have officially Had Enough."


I was listening to Science Friday and they were celebrating the 50th anniversaray of SETI, the Search for ExtraTerrestrial Intelligence. It's silly but it made me laugh to think of a little grey getting anxious over the SATs and trying to figure out what a train was, let alone when it will meet another one.
The strange thing about the smiley sketch...about twenty minutes after I doodled it, I looked up and saw a nearly identical one in the clouds over head!

Tomato Art Fest time again!

Good god, it's been over a month since I posted here?! Well, it has been a little busy...

I'll admit I had my doubts about entering the Fest this year, mainly because I couldn't seem to get anything off the ground. No ideas. Nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada. I finally went back to an old sketchbook to look at some ideas that didn't pan out before.

I had this idea three years ago and just couldn't get the village to fit into the tomato. I guess it just needed time to ripen (pardon the pun.) Here's the first version:

I actually liked this version but I just couldn't justify in my own head how the tomato would burst like that and still be on the vine. So I tried again, this time with the tomato on the ground:

This version made more sense in my head and so here the finished 8" X 10" painting. I'm happy to say it's sold!

I also did another series of Ode (they're all around 2" x 3") for the festival. As far as I know, all of them but the bald one and the pigtails have sold:

Bast's followers are at it again...

One of these days, I may just get slapped upside the head for these cartoons.

Daily Drawing - The place where I do most of my drawing

The daily drawing prompt was to draw the place where I do most of my drawing. I sit under a big cedar tree most of the time, except when it's really cold or raining. There are a few things I'm not happy with in this sketch - like Nathaniel's leg. I think it actually attaches a little differently to his body but of course, like all life models, he started moving whatever part I was focused on. I don't know how in the world he can sleep like that either.

Click on the graphic to embiggen.

Daily Drawing: Carnivorous plant

I've been on the Daily Drawing list for a long time now and I decided it was high time I started contributing to it.

One entry was for a carnivorous plant. I decided to go to one of my favorite books of all time for inspiration - Day of the Triffids. Here is my rendition of a triffid but I forgot to give it any leaves.

Poor little naked triffid.

Sketch: Giant Leopard Moth

I had a visitor the other day. This fella stuck around for hours. I figure it had just come out of the chrysalis and was drying its wings. According to enature.com, it is a Giant Leopard Moth - what wooly worms become when they grow up!