I have my own October 🍂 ritual paying homage to the beautiful show the trees put on- one pic a day of the most beautiful leaf I see on my walk or run-it reminds me to “let go”.
Filling the well. Sometimes it is hard to do. I think that is one of the reasons I love working in the illustrated journal. I want to fill that page with images so I find I’m much more present in the moment, looking and listening for things to draw. It feels like a gift to myself.
You asked about a Little Debbie memory and it took me right back to when I was little and we’d come to the states to visit my grandmother. She always had a box of Yodels for me. They were my favorite.
Conundrum! Calliope. As always your writing fills my soul, its like having you sit beside me and tell tales of your week. Is the Little Red Hen a fairy tale? Not sure but I like it. I live rurally in New Zealand and the last bird I saw was our lanky native Pukeko. I love seeing there wee black fluffball chicks and Pukekos always bring back memories of summer on the farm. P S i loved your Zither notes. I love to put random things like that in my travellers notebooks. I cant let an opportunity go to learn something new when the spark catches me
Ding dongs from my childhood. Zebra cakes I associate with my second oldest child and the year we worked in the same store. I saw the same vulture twice yesterday; first when I took my second oldest to the airport (after a visit) and second when I returned home. No plans for October for the first time in awhile, probably because this is the first October since the second oldest moved out and we often did challenges together. Either poetry or sketches, not always the same thing, but sharing and being accountable. So I think this time around I’ll just go with the flow, doing whatever strikes my fancy. Though as I type that I feel the urge to start out with a series of harvest/Halloween sketches... Guess I’ll just have to see what appears on the page, ha ha.
Can’t say I have a favorite fairytale as I love reading all of them. I even attempted to illustrate some once.
I am enjoying reading your writing and it is interesting to "hear" the words in your voice as if I’m listening to a podcast. It makes me wish I could hear some of my favorite authors read their works.
I don’t remember my first Zingers experience, but I do have some youthful memories during the height of my addiction to those sugary snacks. Let’s see, there were raspberry Zingers, and my favorite “yellow-frosting” Zingers (which I do occasionally find on one of the end isles at the Rite Aid). Outside of the Zingers realm, however, there were apple or cherry moon pies, mini donuts sprinkled with coconut (the powdery white ones would do in a pinch), and Jack-in-the-Box hot apple pies.
When I was perhaps 11 or 12 years old, a friend and I would ride our 10-speeds to the local shopping mall some Saturday mornings when our parents just wanted us out of the house. I don’t know why we went to the mall; we never had much money to spend. But we always had a few spare quarters each, and on the way we would stop at the “day-old-bread” store to pickup supplies. Remember those? I guess they’re still around. Hostess had these outlet stores which sold baked goods rapidly approaching their “Sell By” dates. I don’t remember prices in the early 70s, but they were so low that for a dollar I could buy a half-pint of milk and enough sugary junk food to send three grown men into comas. They even had a “Daily Special” bargain isle where they placed items that were literally within hours of expiration. I always checked there first.
We stuffed our pockets full of those artery-clogging cholesterol bombs then headed for the mall where we walked around for hours visiting all the stores, checking out stuff we couldn’t afford. I wonder where we got all that energy from? I remember my friend was the worst bicycle rider I knew. It annoyed me to no end that he could never keep a straight line. It wouldn’t have been so bad had he rode ahead of or behind me, but he always wanted to ride side-by-side so we could chat. Many times he nearly took me out, randomly steering into my path or entangling his pedals with mine.
In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t just him. I don’t know how long it takes for the liver to process the 100-plus grams of sugar we must have consumed on those Saturday mornings, but I’d say it was a safe bet we were both spinning under the influence.
My favorite childhood fairytale was (and is) Sleeping Beauty. I have identified strongly both with the princess Aurora and Maleficent. In my life’s journey I am still waiting to wake from sleep, and I have the power to do so. It’s the Maleficent part of me that can awaken me from my slumber, not a prince. I am newly turned 69 so hoping I won’t always be in the somnambulant state.
CHRYSALIS kind of goes along with Sleeping Beauty. In a state of waiting to become.
CTHONIC darkness of the underworld, which also relates to one of my favorite Greek myths involving Persephone
When we grandkids were over at our grandparents’ house, we could have almost as many snacks as we wanted. But we had to ask if we could have the Little Debbie cakes---Granny had to have enough to last the week for Grandaddy’s lunch. He had one of those gray metal lunchboxes in the 1970s that he carried to work as a welder. Grandaddy’s favorites were the Star Crunch and Nutty Bars (which switched to Nutty Buddy in 2016). I still buy them for my lunchbox.
I saw a Blue Jay this morning pecking at a tree branch while I was waiting on my husband to get in the car. A squirrel was shaking its tail at the Blue Jay from the roof of the house next door before that streak of blue flew across the yard.
I always liked Little Red Riding Hood. I think about how there are so many different endings to that one, maybe something new might happen if I hear it again.
A cabin in the cold is the start of my most recent dulcimer story. My mom used to play the autoharp, I find the the sound of a zither entrancing. Last spring we had a vicious cold snap the weekend we were ready to visit the “living history” presentation at a historic property here in Alabama. We bundled up and faced the freezing wind to watch people use ploughhorses and shear sheep out in the cold. Imagine my delight when we heard the historic homestead was open and warm due to the staff cooking fried bread on the cast iron stove. We trundled in and the house was not only snug and warm, but the living room was full of a group of eight or so folks playing dulcimers all in tandem. It was transportive. It felt like a moment out of time and space- hearing the music, being in that old house looking out the old window onto the old property.
All I have for you this time is a northern flicker and a chewy cookie, preferably oatmeal raisin.
Thanks for your beautiful post. I’ve been secretly ashamed of the repetitiveness of my illustrate your week pages: a book I’m reading, something I saw in the garden, etc. I appreciated your discussion of this topic, and your encouragement to add in things that aren’t necessary literal pieces of our week.
Like you, I grew up with zero as 0̸ and Z as Ƶ to differentiate as well as seven as 7̶ and I still like to do that! Collage and cobalt. This month I'm doing my abstract version of inktober, ink on w/c paper. Hope your Inktober project is magical and a good change of pace!
I don’t have a Little Debbie memory...when I was little I wasn’t allowed to have anything with sugar in it, especially a store bought treat like a Little Debbie snack! But I remember my grandmother’s next door neighbor, Fran, secretly giving me Oreo cookies over the white fence between their houses. It was a delight!! I can remember that flavor like yesterday...standing there in the summertime air, that neighborhood filled with cozy little houses, the scent of fresh cut grass as lawnmowers whirred in the background along with the sounds of kids on big wheels zooming around the pavement and the tinkling of those little plastic beads kids put on their bike spokes... Culpable Cookie. 😆 Thanks for all the inspiring drawing ideas!
I have my own October 🍂 ritual paying homage to the beautiful show the trees put on- one pic a day of the most beautiful leaf I see on my walk or run-it reminds me to “let go”.
Filling the well. Sometimes it is hard to do. I think that is one of the reasons I love working in the illustrated journal. I want to fill that page with images so I find I’m much more present in the moment, looking and listening for things to draw. It feels like a gift to myself.
You asked about a Little Debbie memory and it took me right back to when I was little and we’d come to the states to visit my grandmother. She always had a box of Yodels for me. They were my favorite.
I think I’ll add that to my journal this week.😀
Conundrum! Calliope. As always your writing fills my soul, its like having you sit beside me and tell tales of your week. Is the Little Red Hen a fairy tale? Not sure but I like it. I live rurally in New Zealand and the last bird I saw was our lanky native Pukeko. I love seeing there wee black fluffball chicks and Pukekos always bring back memories of summer on the farm. P S i loved your Zither notes. I love to put random things like that in my travellers notebooks. I cant let an opportunity go to learn something new when the spark catches me
Ding dongs from my childhood. Zebra cakes I associate with my second oldest child and the year we worked in the same store. I saw the same vulture twice yesterday; first when I took my second oldest to the airport (after a visit) and second when I returned home. No plans for October for the first time in awhile, probably because this is the first October since the second oldest moved out and we often did challenges together. Either poetry or sketches, not always the same thing, but sharing and being accountable. So I think this time around I’ll just go with the flow, doing whatever strikes my fancy. Though as I type that I feel the urge to start out with a series of harvest/Halloween sketches... Guess I’ll just have to see what appears on the page, ha ha.
Can’t say I have a favorite fairytale as I love reading all of them. I even attempted to illustrate some once.
I am enjoying reading your writing and it is interesting to "hear" the words in your voice as if I’m listening to a podcast. It makes me wish I could hear some of my favorite authors read their works.
Cacophony, chitter.
I don’t remember my first Zingers experience, but I do have some youthful memories during the height of my addiction to those sugary snacks. Let’s see, there were raspberry Zingers, and my favorite “yellow-frosting” Zingers (which I do occasionally find on one of the end isles at the Rite Aid). Outside of the Zingers realm, however, there were apple or cherry moon pies, mini donuts sprinkled with coconut (the powdery white ones would do in a pinch), and Jack-in-the-Box hot apple pies.
When I was perhaps 11 or 12 years old, a friend and I would ride our 10-speeds to the local shopping mall some Saturday mornings when our parents just wanted us out of the house. I don’t know why we went to the mall; we never had much money to spend. But we always had a few spare quarters each, and on the way we would stop at the “day-old-bread” store to pickup supplies. Remember those? I guess they’re still around. Hostess had these outlet stores which sold baked goods rapidly approaching their “Sell By” dates. I don’t remember prices in the early 70s, but they were so low that for a dollar I could buy a half-pint of milk and enough sugary junk food to send three grown men into comas. They even had a “Daily Special” bargain isle where they placed items that were literally within hours of expiration. I always checked there first.
We stuffed our pockets full of those artery-clogging cholesterol bombs then headed for the mall where we walked around for hours visiting all the stores, checking out stuff we couldn’t afford. I wonder where we got all that energy from? I remember my friend was the worst bicycle rider I knew. It annoyed me to no end that he could never keep a straight line. It wouldn’t have been so bad had he rode ahead of or behind me, but he always wanted to ride side-by-side so we could chat. Many times he nearly took me out, randomly steering into my path or entangling his pedals with mine.
In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t just him. I don’t know how long it takes for the liver to process the 100-plus grams of sugar we must have consumed on those Saturday mornings, but I’d say it was a safe bet we were both spinning under the influence.
I love reading your weekly missives. Thank you.
My favorite childhood fairytale was (and is) Sleeping Beauty. I have identified strongly both with the princess Aurora and Maleficent. In my life’s journey I am still waiting to wake from sleep, and I have the power to do so. It’s the Maleficent part of me that can awaken me from my slumber, not a prince. I am newly turned 69 so hoping I won’t always be in the somnambulant state.
CHRYSALIS kind of goes along with Sleeping Beauty. In a state of waiting to become.
CTHONIC darkness of the underworld, which also relates to one of my favorite Greek myths involving Persephone
The vulture looks on as
the curious child takes his first,
tentative bite of a zebra cake
resultant smile brighter than the glowing jack o'lantern
on the porch behind him.
Grab your wolf mask
and your three little pigs
run giggling through the neighborhood
full of witches with sugary treats.
Curio, chime
When we grandkids were over at our grandparents’ house, we could have almost as many snacks as we wanted. But we had to ask if we could have the Little Debbie cakes---Granny had to have enough to last the week for Grandaddy’s lunch. He had one of those gray metal lunchboxes in the 1970s that he carried to work as a welder. Grandaddy’s favorites were the Star Crunch and Nutty Bars (which switched to Nutty Buddy in 2016). I still buy them for my lunchbox.
I saw a Blue Jay this morning pecking at a tree branch while I was waiting on my husband to get in the car. A squirrel was shaking its tail at the Blue Jay from the roof of the house next door before that streak of blue flew across the yard.
I always liked Little Red Riding Hood. I think about how there are so many different endings to that one, maybe something new might happen if I hear it again.
A cabin in the cold is the start of my most recent dulcimer story. My mom used to play the autoharp, I find the the sound of a zither entrancing. Last spring we had a vicious cold snap the weekend we were ready to visit the “living history” presentation at a historic property here in Alabama. We bundled up and faced the freezing wind to watch people use ploughhorses and shear sheep out in the cold. Imagine my delight when we heard the historic homestead was open and warm due to the staff cooking fried bread on the cast iron stove. We trundled in and the house was not only snug and warm, but the living room was full of a group of eight or so folks playing dulcimers all in tandem. It was transportive. It felt like a moment out of time and space- hearing the music, being in that old house looking out the old window onto the old property.
All I have for you this time is a northern flicker and a chewy cookie, preferably oatmeal raisin.
Thanks for your beautiful post. I’ve been secretly ashamed of the repetitiveness of my illustrate your week pages: a book I’m reading, something I saw in the garden, etc. I appreciated your discussion of this topic, and your encouragement to add in things that aren’t necessary literal pieces of our week.
Like you, I grew up with zero as 0̸ and Z as Ƶ to differentiate as well as seven as 7̶ and I still like to do that! Collage and cobalt. This month I'm doing my abstract version of inktober, ink on w/c paper. Hope your Inktober project is magical and a good change of pace!
I don’t have a Little Debbie memory...when I was little I wasn’t allowed to have anything with sugar in it, especially a store bought treat like a Little Debbie snack! But I remember my grandmother’s next door neighbor, Fran, secretly giving me Oreo cookies over the white fence between their houses. It was a delight!! I can remember that flavor like yesterday...standing there in the summertime air, that neighborhood filled with cozy little houses, the scent of fresh cut grass as lawnmowers whirred in the background along with the sounds of kids on big wheels zooming around the pavement and the tinkling of those little plastic beads kids put on their bike spokes... Culpable Cookie. 😆 Thanks for all the inspiring drawing ideas!