February 1, 2003 Issue
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"Star light.
Star bright.
First star I see tonight.
I wish I may.
I wish I might.
Have the wish I wish tonight."
When you were a child, did you speak this rhyme
as the first star twinkled in the waning light of a summer evening?
Did your wish come true? Mine did. (Although not always in
the way I was expecting!)
My first wish, as far back as I can remember,
was for a pair of roller skates. Every night as regular as "clock
work" I would express that desire in the form of a very sincere wish.
I don't recall how long it took (for a child it was forever!) before my
dream came true. One Christmas, under the tree, THERE was a pair
of roller skates. They were old and well used, but my wish had come true.
Next I wished for a horse. The
day came when my Dad came home with a horse to help with the farm work.
It was a work horse that would not abide being ridden by a wriggly, anxious
young girl. (He would walk in a circle and return to the farmyard
gate, no matter how I tried to motivate him.)
With that kind of a track record, you would
suppose that I would give up "wishing on a star". Call me hopelessly
romantic, but I still tried. My next wish, as a teenager planning
a future, I wished to become a movie star. Night after starry night,
"I wish I were a movie star." My third wish came "true" in an unusual
way. I became an extra in the movie "The Greatest Story Ever Told".
I was so far away from any semblence of a camera, I might as well have
been a flea on a camel..
Now, you may think that I would give up this
endeavor (Remember that hopeless romantic?). I cannot
resist the first sparkling star of the evening "Star light.
Star bright.".............
Next Issue: Cat Tales.
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The Ocean Calls
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By now, you know that
I love to paint the ocean. My studio holds several canvases in various
stages of completion. There is a sunset sea unfolding; a rendering
of the ocean in the moonlight, three-quarters completed; several
versions of the misty rain; and in the planning stages, bright beautiful
sunny days with aqua translucencies topping rolling breakers. Having
so many pieces to work on satisfies the yearning to be walking on the beach
with the roar of the surf in my ears.
Well, I am satisfied for only a short while.
Soon I will be packing a picnic lunch, loading camera and sketch pad into
the back of the Suburban and heading West. Within an hour and a half
I will again be there, observing the mistress as she beats relentlessly
aganst her limitations; the shorebirds wailing their plaintive cries; the
rain slanting across the horizon, driven by the persistent Southwesterly
wind.
"the shorebirds wailing their
plaintive cries;"
I am enamored of the sea in all her moods.
I have sat at the edge of the water and watched as a gray foggy captor
held the mistress subjugated in elusive silvery-white bonds, to release
her only when sunlight burned its way through the overcast sky. I
have thrilled to the thundering breakers crashing upon volcanic rocks that
jut out into the surf in majestic defiance of the never-ending onslaught
from lace edged deep green water. On some very special afternoons
the brilliance of the diamond cast glitter scattered by the hovering sun,
lingers in my memory long after the last balmy breeze settles upon the
murmuring ripples. Other occasions present the ocean's surface nearly as
calm as any inland lake. Billowing white clouds refelect upon
the water as far as you can see. A huge ocean going vessel seems
a speck on the horizon. |
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One of my favorite
times to stroll the shoreline is during a misty rain that drifts gently
across the scene, refreshing my senses, yet not penetrating enough to get
me wet. These are the times for pondering the problems that now seem so
easy to solve. There is time to watch the rollers push toward the
beach and dissolve into the sand, edging the dark wetness with a collar
of glistening foam. I contemplate the gliding seagulls as they skim
the peaks of the waves.
All these intimate moments add up to a painting
forming in my thoughts. As I watch the unfolding of the beauty before
me, in my mind I am already spreading oil paint onto a stark white
canvas. Here a line, there a splash of color. In the sky will
be a gathering of gulls. There will be a group of dark rocks
on the left, a headland to the right.... And so the musing takes form.
"There will be a group of dark
rocks on the left, a headland to the right"
The ocean calls me. Since I was a child
the lure of the sea has been beckoning me. I am not the only one.
Around the world men and women "go down to the sea in ships". Coastal
real estate is in high demand (and high in price). It appeals to
all the senses.
See the magnificence that is the ocean.
Taste the salt air. Smell the dampness of the earth. Touch
the roughness of the rocks. Hear the ocean call.
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