Twelve Months of Flowers

If only it were true. Unless you count holly berries, there’s really not much in the way of floral color in northeast winter months.

But “Twelve Months of Flowers” can be had via art prints, from the series published 1n 1730 by renowned British horticulturist and author Robert Furber. Mr. Furber’s name is highly attributed to these exquisite prints, and while I’m grateful that he had the insight, substantial research and knowledge (and, no doubt, the funds) to produce the collection, I’m mostly interested in the artistry.

We had two of these prints hanging in our dining room during my growing-up years – one May, one November, the months of my parent’s birthdays. Admired by all, they adorned a modest space with a rich, subtle elegance, (and now that I think of it, may have had an influence on my own interest in drawing things botanical) ~ but in all those years, while we probably did, I don’t remember talking about the artist. Regardless, for some reason they lodged in my mind’s eye today ~ perhaps an unconscious nod to my parent’s wedding anniversary? ~ so I went looking.

First of all, they are hand-colored engravings, produced by English engraver Henry Fletcher from paintings of Flemish-born artist Pieter Casteels . (They also produced an equally stunning second series, Twelve Months of Fruits.) Each work is a glorious detail of plants in seasonal bloom, with each plant numbered, and, at the time, a list of the corresponding names. More than 400 plant species were featured. This was no small project.

And so a few centuries later, I thank them ~ all three of them: Furber, Fletcher and Casteels ~ for their fine, luscious collaboration of study, talent and skill. They are so beautiful, I might even venture to call them a labor of love. But that’s what art is.

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Storytelling and Why We Create

Why do we paint? Or write, or play an instrument or dance? Because we have to. Because if we don’t, we’ll become cranky and irritable. We’ll be rotten company not only for others but ourselves.

Some say it’s because they have a message or a moral or a special meaning to it, but I say it’s instinct. There’s a story that needs telling, and we happen to be the vessels. It’s gut. It’s primal. Like eating or sleeping or hugging. You just gotta do it. It’s for survival of the spirit.

So this is for all who answer that call. The poets, novelists, essayists, and scriptwriters; for the orators, artists and musicians; for all who move our hearts and elevate our minds, take us to new worlds, teach us new ways of thought, bring us tears, laughter, wisdom and peace with the richness of their expression, the telling of stories ~ blessed are the storytellers.  Please, keep doing what you’re doing. ~ Patricia

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Have Broom, Will Fly

I’ve been thinking “I need to make a Halloween post on my blog”, like I’ve done every year (whether it’s cancelled or not!). I usually gather up some of the coolest pumpkin carvings I can find and make a nice spread here. Write something clever to go with it. But instead, I’ve been immersed in the far spookier world of finishing my next book ~ which I’m happy to say is progressing well, but it’s quite time consuming, and then there’s client work, and there’s life. All that.

So rather than my pumpkin fare, I’m taking a “loftier”, more spiritual approach …. and hoping you all conjure up a very happy, magical, appropriately creepy and preferably hot-chocolate-filled All Hallow’s Eve, with blessings all around.

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The Humble Pumpkin

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My daughter went to a local farm and came home with a little tiny pumpkin. (This is what happens when one is spending one’s own hard-earned money ~ the great big pumpkin is no longer so important!) Of course it’s terribly cute, the way small things are. And it brought to mind a vision of the sprawling pumpkin patch… nature’s bounty, plump and happy, and I thought  – not for the first time but maybe the thousandth, which (to me) makes it even more intriguing – what a wonder it is, this mystery called life. What a wonder! ~ this indestructible power of creativity. Born each day in all things, all creatures, each and every one of us; every season, ever-present, renewing, recycling, rebellious against all odds.

And there it is, this little pumpkin – one of millions of simple, round, mostly orange and sometimes amusing members of the fruit family (a berry, in fact – who knew?!), triggering thoughts of grandeur! Silly ~ maybe so, but I allow my mind its folly, and see them rambling lazily in autumn fields, these brightly colored smile-bringers, sculptures in waiting,  deceptive hosts to uncountable swarms of life-giving seeds and hundreds of lip-smacking pies, and for a moment my thoughts free-fall in wonder at this stuff of life. Because it is, really, pretty darn amazing.
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Rituals

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Yesterday was a perfect east coast Indian summer kind of day. Bright, warm sun, the slightest soft breeze, the crisp scent of Autumn in the air, colors poised to burst. I couldn’t let it pass without being IN it for a while, so I found a way to bask and be productive at the same time (which is pretty much ideal in my book).

How it went was that one of my projects required some simple watercolor work, so – lightbulb moment! – I gathered my wares and took them outside. And while I was setting up my mini-outdoor studio, I quietly reveled in what I recognized as a ritual.  A lovely order of steps taken, each part of the process, each one savored. In this case, the table moved and cleared of leaves, chair set in the right light, paints out of their box – all their lovely tones smiling up at me –  paper and water placed just so, brushes laid out, noticing how the sun made them sparkle.

This was my ritual; small and sweet. Because, of course, rituals aren’t defined by scale. There are the very grand ceremonial occasions of kings and queens and pope-doms; there are sacred rituals under the full moon. But there are ordinary, every day rituals too ~ rituals that are simply an appreciative way of doing things. Acts that allow space for both gratitude of the moment and your own participation in the creative process. That cause time to pass more gracefully, for things to unfold rather than hurriedly dumped. There’s a time for that too – the quick pulling together, plopping down, instant shifting. And I could have easily done that with my paints yesterday – the end result was relatively simple, and wouldn’t take long. But it felt so much better than rushing to get the job done.

When making the (truly) small, conscious effort to be part of each step, there’s this wonderful sense of being present, being aware of the interplay of yourself and the elements and this sort of fabric you’re weaving with your actions, thoughts and intentions.

In our go-go-go world, we don’t always stop for ritual; we forget. We do one thing and move on. Done. Crossed off the list. On to the next. But it can be so very simple to include a touch of ceremony, and can make whatever task or event or experience more rich and more enjoyable. Preparing a meal. Setting the table. Folding towels. (I know, I might be stretching it a little, and sure, there are some chores you just want to get through ~ but it’s true in more cases than not.) Rather than just blindly “doing”, bring the senses into it. Breathe between steps. Make it a pleasure. Add a flourish of ritual. :  )

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Three Friends, Three Books

It just so happens that I am fortunate enough to have some gifted friends. And three of those friends recently published their own first books ~ which, also,  just so happen to be quite good. So I thought I’d give them a shout out, because I’m both proud of their work and proud to know them. (If any of you are then inclined to read their books, all the better for everyone involved!)

Paul Huckelberry / An Accidental Book

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I didn’t know Paul until he followed up on a referral to use both my graphic design and editing services ~ which he (very wisely :  ) ) decided to invest in. So, yes, I am particularly biased in my review of this book, but I do know the book intimately ~ line by line, in fact, and cover design, too ~ and my assessment is honest. (Those who know me or my work, know that I can be a demanding critic, aiming for the best possible result with the highest quality representation.) And with that I’ll say that Paul is a writer who’d been masquerading as a well-resepcted engineer for many years ~ and write well he does in this lively collection of life stories ranging from love to politics, religion, greed, food on the table, self-worth, and generally a whole lot of things that seem to matter in this life we live. Without prescribing or preaching, he shares, and through that, gems of wisdom shine.

Alice / Wonderland’s Teatray, Musings and a Few Unchallengeable Truths

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Over the past year, I have come to know and absolutely delight in this deep-thinking, witty, well-lived and wonderfully wise soul  ~ and her first book is all of that as well.  It’s a short, hauntingly real and beautifully composed sharing of life lessons learned, in ways that question, soothe, uplift and scratch at the very core of our spirit. She digs deep effortlessly and comes out on the other side brighter and wiser, refreshingly touching the reader’s life in the process.

Heather McCloskey Beck / Take the Leap

taketheleapI’m pretty sure Heather and I have known each other in many lifetimes, as there was an almost instant “recognition” of one another across the miles, well before we met in person. We also share an uncannily similar approach to life, as well as a passion for art, creativity, peace and doing what you love ~ the latter of which, Heather is on a mission to help infuse into as many souls as possible  So, when reading this lovely, thoughtful book, I nodded my head a lot, and found myself silently cheering her on, as well as cheering on all those who will undoubtedly be uplifted and motivated by her beautiful, compelling brand of inspiration.

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A Plethora of P’s / #47: Perfection

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

A grand old oak. Moonlight on a tranquil sea. The timed-just-right one-liner. A child’s first alphabet. These are perfection.

And you (yes ~ you) are perfection. In all your realness, your uniquely you-ness, just the way nature made you, flaws and all. It’s not measured by the length of your legs, the width of your belly, or whether you might not be so good at baseball or science.

Unless you’re a jet engine, perfection is as nature made you. And nothing is more perfect, nothing so magnificently intricate and complex that runs more efficiently nor encompasses more bounty, grace, grandeur and passion than nature.

An exquisite rose reminds us of the world’s beauty; its thorns remind us that there is always a purpose beyond what meets the eye. An ugly plant may not elicit oohs and ahhs, but it might perhaps hold a cure for cancer.

We’re all part of nature’s fabric. We all have beauty, we all have thorns. We all have gifts, and reason to be here. Each and every one of us. Flawed, and marvelously, perfectly ourselves.

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52 Weeks of Peace [squared]: Week #84

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Peace is considered a quiet thing, like a particularly beautiful sunset – but it can also be loud, like a chorus boldly singing to high heaven. Peace can be a meditative, sit-on-the-mountaintop feeling, or the heady, centering rush that follows a 3-mile run. Peace can be a sleeping cat, curled up in a sunny spot. Peace can be the joyful peels of a child’s laughter. Peace can be a bubbling creek, a cup of tea, the mending of a friendship – or the letting go. It can be found in a kind word, a job well done, a stranger’s smile. Peace graces a spring garden and kicks up its heels in a snowstorm or a boisterous, pounding waterfall. Peace doesn’t fight; it calms and exhilarates. Peace is freedom from pain, worry and doubt. Peace reaches over and takes your hand; it delights your heart, and it feels right from your head to your toes. Find it. Create it. Share it. This is my wish.  ~ Patricia Saxton

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The above is an excerpt from the original “52 Weeks of Peace” postcard book, available at Amazon.

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Dare to Dream: Week #36 / 52 Weeks of Peace

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Week #36: 52 Weeks of Peace / “Starry Night” / © Patricia Saxton

Dare to dream upon the stars ~

Dare to dream of peace,

Beaming

From life’s grandest stage ~

Unrestrained,

Where thousands

fold to millions ~

Shining. Alighting. Dancing,

Through an endless velvet sky.

Floating in layers

of patterns on patterns,

Shades of bright white

Shimmering

In the blackened pool

Of an upside down sea.

Eternity’s dream catcher ~

Twinkling,

Winking,

Silver-rimmed storytellers ~

Architects of heaven ~

A symphony of light

Plucked from the night

For all time.

Beacons,

Guides,

Galactic jewels,

Wished upon

and worshipped,

Where secrets

are surrendered

And wonders breathe ~

Bright,

Inconceivable and constant.

©  P. Saxton
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