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| Addison County Field Days |
A summer creamie brightens the sunshine.
Link love and compassion to your life
Suicide Prevention 988
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| A: Abstract watercolor, free-hand in progress |
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| B: Abstract Watercolor stage 1 |
In A above, I’m drawing, same abstract style only by free-hand. The vibe is playful, casual, more fluid in the stories it presents.
In B above, I drew using straight edged tools. The main circles are the inside edge of my blue oainter’s tape. The squiggly and small lines are free-hand. The vibe commands, directs, entertains.
The second floor back room is quiet, posing well worn years that don't care if the lights are on at night. Ribbon and floral printed curtains stare inwards as if to break any expectation there is a lovely view beyond the window. Out there in the wild terre verte vines and mossy branches, creatures fly, rest and hide. On the other side, the front steps creak and yawn from the many buyers wanting a deal.
The house knows and holds its value. It is an alpha house, sturdy, spacious, serene in the middle of a hundred and forty-three acres wooded and seven in pasture. The four seasons of New England have tempered the structure to take on more than the warm hearts of those stepping within. Cold hearts live here as naturally as the wild thorny roses growing by the back door.
The story is about a group of friends that formed during the covid pandemic who learned they have the same hobby, searching online real estate. They create a challenge to find the house one of them wants to buy in New England. They attend showings of the places they agree might be the one. They do find a house they all like. As it happens, that house does more than end their game.
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In the summer of 1952, I had an Ephinay while on the stairs at the doorway to Nathaniel Hawthorne's cupola writing room, that I want to be a writer. After high school graduation, I wanted to go to secretarial school in New York City. I wanted an anchor skill where I could get a job. I wanted to mature, learn about life to be a good writer. Weakness, being abused, and life took me in another direction.
Years later talking to my best friend in high school, relating what happened to us since we last had contact, her comment still rings in my soul. She said, "But I thought you wanted to be a writer?"
Over the years since then, I've had people tell me I write well. A few of them were surprised by my writing. There has also been people who have discouraged me. At a low point in my life a woman told me there is a museum for unpublished novels, as if that is the only place any novel I write will ever belong. I think she was trying to comfort me. In reality, she and the others that tell me no, mean well as they might, are cruel.
I write all the time. I don't finish many or have anything publication ready. I just keep on writing.
Here we go with the first part of my summer abstract in ink and watercolor.
All lines are from my imagination and how I feel about their relationship. I create the image using a compass, straight edge, triangles, objects as well as free hand drawing. The first stage is in pencil or waterproof pen. In the next stage, I apply ink with various lettering pen nibs.
Between every stage, I rest the image as I question if the drawing is going where I want it to. This stage is very important because if a drawing like this is rushed, then it can be a quick disaster.
Already I know there are 3 things in the drawing that bother me. All three are small shapes that are part of the story. However, until I decide on colors, they might not remain as is.
There is no enigmatic smile on our faces or in our hearts.
How we carry our condition along through the year may be similar to some but not to others.
Based on my life's journey with depression, all I write about here is based on that first-hand experience.
Everyone, I believe, goes through stages as they age and participate in different events, birth, jobs, adventures, moving education and such. Our personalities develop and sometimes, there are hiccups in that process.
Depression, for me, is what causes my being me hiccups. At present, the type of depression episode I've been coping with for over a year is not the same as in the past. I think of it as a depression meh episode.
I used to notice symptoms and deal with them as they arise. This time, while able to laugh, enjoy, have clarity, most of what I felt connected to has disconnected. It is there. I know about it. I remember it. It is all a pile of meh to me now. Weird.
The most significant part of my meh episode is that there is no constant wallowing in sadness, melancholy, dreads or paranoia.
At this stage, I feel, reading about depression that others experience is a good idea because it might help me understand better what is going on. Maybe being at the end stage of my life is impacting me stronger than I anticipated. I have been clearing out stuff lately. That release of the past might have freed up space in my mind to explore this part of my life journey.
Do you have books on depression to recommend?
Clearing out folders, changing passwords, and sorting photos was a monthly event for me that took hours, sometimes days. Files and photos, I feel, no longer require monthly sorting. Maintaining good password health, however, is always a priority.
In the early days of Ebay when, I believe, a lot of people were getting online, a unique password for each website one registered with was popular with some people. (Moi) A one password for all probably isn't a good security system. Writing down passwords in a tabbed address book is an easy way to keep track of that important information.
Some tips I use for passwords: