Happy Halloween

My usual tradition is to buy my pumpkin on Halloween day. I pick one of the sad left-over, reject pumpkins and give it a home.
Today is too full and I won't be able to follow in my tradition. Alas...
Although, last night, Chloe and I carved pumpkins and roasted the seeds. All is well.

On to matters of the heart...
I pulled this sentence from a friend's email.

Is the answer so simple that we avoid it at all costs?

Sorry Elizabeth

Last Halloween I made these. In my huge collection of old family photos, I found this particular photo of a rather puffy, stodgy old woman. She was perfect for altering, so I photocopied her and began playing.

Earlier this month at the bookstore, I was whizzing down the biography isle when something caught my eye. There was a new book...a photo...something familiar. After flipping through the pages, I found the exact photo that I own.

As it turns out, I own a photo of a significant woman in American history! It is because of her ground work I can vote! And I have been desecrating her in my altered art?!

Oops.

Elizabeth Cady Stanton, I am sorry.

Quiet Love

I have not drawn anything for a week and a half.
Today when I sat down, this tiny line drawing is all that came out: no color and no detail. And after months of drawing only with my left hand, my right hand wanted its turn again.

Love.
Quiet love.
The kind I wear under my skin.
It has nothing to say, but it keeps me warm.

Bundt Cakes & Sorrow

What needs to be said in the quiet, lonely hour
plodding through
this fully empty sorrow
applause will never come

What needs to be done with your stifled love
testing every ounce
twisting and projecting
ignoring me until we are both sadly alone

What needs to be done with my soul in your absence
deep in the moment
minutia collapses upon itself
expanding
the love you left me reveals

so much love to give
so much love to miss
it is time I took you off my wall

Artwork - paper collage.
I created this last night. Other ingredients included a friend, laughter, lasagna and a wee bit of vodka.

A Quiet Day

Some days there are no words.
So, I share my all-time favorite photo of my dad from 1979.
I also share my favorite Emily Dickinson poem.
Love.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain:
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.