The Dreaded Violin

The painting on the left gave me more problems than almost anything I've ever worked on (this was a couple of years ago). It was a headache from day one. Right after I gessoed the piece of masonite in preparation for painting, it warped and so, to straighten it out, I had to gesso the back. Then I really didn't get the surface very smooth so I had to sand it, apply more coats of gesso and sand it one more time. About midway through the painting, the whole thing warped - again. And did I mention the drawing? I had trouble lining up the neck of the violin with the bridge and that bottom thing that I can't remember the name of. The tail piece maybe?

Painting the feather was the fun part. Painting the musical notes was the most challenging. My art instructor, Robert, told me I shouldn't paint the notes in detail but, rather, suggest them so that somebody looking at the painting for the first time might say, "Oh, yes, musical notes."

By the time I'd finished painting the entire set up, I couldn't stand to look at it anymore. So, I stashed it in the back of my closet facing the wall. For a long time. A year or so later I took it out and looked at it. Hey, it wasn't that bad. I touched up a few spots, gave it a coat of varnish and had it framed. Now it's hanging on my wall.

I guess writing and painting have more in common than I once thought. They both require self-discipline, the willingness to see a project through to the end and lots of work on the rough spots.

Ramblings

Some people are compelled to do things and go places nearly every waking moment of their lives - climb Mount McKinley, tour South America, raft the Colorado River. We have an acquaintance who felt compelled to run a marathon on each continent - even Antarctica. His scariest marathon, he said, was the one he ran in Africa. Armed guards were posted along the route to protect the runners from any wild animals that might decide to have them for lunch.

My eldest son, Derek, is getting ready to hike the Appalachian Trail. Next weekend, my husband will drive him down to Georgia where he will begin his long trek northward along the spiny back of the Appalachian Mountains to Maine - more than 2,100 miles! As a mother, I worry. Will he have enough to eat? Will he get hurt? Will he tangle with any bears? I can't let myself think about everything that might go wrong, else I will drive myself crazy. Yes, I wish I could protect my sons from every danger they encounter but, at the same time, I know those struggles make them stronger people, better equipped to deal with the bigger obstacles life hurls in their path

Every two weeks, Derek will be writing an article about his observations and adventures for Sayville's local newspaper, The Suffolk County News. He just had his first article published. It focused on the the history of the AT and his personal goals and expectations. I must say, he did a nice job! My sister, Vicky, has a degree in journalism and my dad worked as a reporter for The Manchester Guardian in England when he was young . Perhaps Derek, too, has the writing bug. At any rate, onward and upward. I'll keep an update on his long walk over the following months.

Dreams of Flying

When I was a kid, I dreamed of sprouting wings and flying. It wasn't until I was thirteen that I finally set foot on an airplane for the first time. As the plane carried me into the sky, my skin tingled with the thrill of being airborne. From high above, I could see the curvature of the earth, the fields spread out below me like a patchwork quilt, the space above the clouds where I sometimes imagined angels dwelled. Flying was as close to an out of body experience I ever imagined I'd have without dying.

Last week we went to Utah to ski - to Alta, Deer Valley and Park City. As I set my skis down in a foot of fresh powder and began my descent down the mountain, once again I experienced that thrilling tingle of my first airplane ride. The snow was a blinding white, the trail a steep vista of moguls. Scared? Yes! But the wind was in my face, the landscape was breathtaking and once again I was flying.