June already! How did that happen. It seems time is even more illusive than one can imagine.
Every June I think of my mother. And this year it is no different. Of course, people keep dying of cancer. And these days, it's the grief of Covid-19. The fear of mutations. The uncertainty of life is enough. Why would you want to gamble with a virus there is a vaccine for? I don't understand. But, Fear is not logical. The mind if full of trickery.
So, as I watch an Acorn woodpecker and a dove at the bird feeder, I will focus on the beauty. My quest, is to allow a sense of beauty, wonder and playfullness to come through in my paintings. A sense of honesty to the viewer. I am inspired today by the works of Mary Oliver. She writes,
"How many mysteries have you see in your life?
How many roses in early summer?
And what do you say to the Wonder of time and the wild fields?
And to joy? And to grief's shock and torpor?
What of oxygen? And thirst?
And the hawks willingness to fall.
My image today was taken from my journal, in June 2004, when my mother recieved the news of her cancer. Eyes to heaven, I turned to the desert night. Bats dance in the darkening. The last fingertips of light brushing the purpled peaks smooth. It is so hard to know what to do when faced with my mother's denouement. Even words of compassion are not comforting. Perhaps silence and touch are all that works. The torpor too great to overcome. And so, it seems, this June is perhaps less anguished than last year. The pandemic less persistent, though no less grievious. My energy is greater this year, working on my garden, planting more flowers, dahlia's, sunflowers, eggplant, asperagus, peppers, melons. Even blueberries, though I'm not sure the bear will allow such things. I think how my mother loved her gardens, and how she would love mine. How she loved hummingbirds, deer, and feeding the quail. I miss her so much at times. That ache never goes away, a daughter's ache for her mother. And how I appreciate her bravery and beauty more as each year passes.
Rain always makes me a little melancholy. But now, (thanks to antidepressents), I'm no longer crushed by it. Now, Wonder is able to push it aside.
And loook, four deer are grazing at the perimeter of the garden, just outside the fence. The scrubjays and their wiley ways. The long perfect loveliness of the day. The hummingbird at the long red flowers of the yucca. I think it's time to paint now, and then take a walk to the pine tree with the red tail hawks nest in it. Observe the two baby hawks. It'll take my breath away. It always does.