"Beauty the Brave"

Beauty The Brave - 2017  

Walk Into This Picture.

On this Memorial Day in 2017.  I feel deeply for those we have lost and those who are still fighting for our freedoms.  My words are not adequate to express my gratitude for this privileged life I lead.

So I will do want feels right for me - share a poem of beauty by Mary Oliver.  Imagine each flower holding the life and love of someone who has passed.

Enjoy this moment of mindfulness.

"Peonies: A Poem By Mary Oliver

"This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers
and they open —
pools of lace,
white and pink —
and all day the black ants climb over them,
boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away
to their dark, underground cities —
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,
the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding
all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again —
beauty the brave, the exemplary,
blazing open.

Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?"

from New And Selected Poems by Mary Oliver"

Limited edition reproduction available at

https://fineartamerica.com/featured/peonies-beauty-the-brave-wendy-blomseth.html

Love In Light

"Love in Light" Still Life, #9221

You Are In Every Portrait

Self Portrait  #9136,  2016

Some say every portrait is a self portrait of the photographer.  In the case, it is the truth.

Saturday morning I went to the Mpls. Farmers Market with Karl's daughter, Carla.  She had to buy some Minnesota cheese curds to take back to her co-workers back in Colorado.  I had a small inkling that maybe, just maybe I'd buy some flowers if something called to me. My birthday is coming up and I could make an early still life that was autobiograpical.

I walked through the market and did a comparison shop of what flowers were available at the best price.  From the onset the purples called to me and I knew that the yellow lilies would be the perfect contrasting color.

Got home and double checked that the green background was still up and usable for today's still life. I did however pull the fabric more taut to minimize the striped lighting pattern this time.  Then assembled the following elements:

Poetry books, always Mary Oliver and my new collection by Wendell Berry
Cameras:  tiny crystal Swarovski camera and gold plated miniature camera
Wine glasses: three glasses that represent Karl, his daughter Carla and me with a nice white wine
Glass paperweight which displays a picture of me from 2nd or 3rd grade in my school uniform
Fabric to add color and texture

It could have contained more elements but I've learned that less is more.

Repetitive elements that almost always appear in my still life portraits are
natural light
poetry books
living flowers
beautiful vase
beverage vessels

To my mind they are all representations of love.

"The peonies are getting ready to break my heart"

Wild and Perfect Peonies, May 2016

 Peonies: A Poem By Mary Oliver

"This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers
and they open —
pools of lace,
white and pink —
and all day the black ants climb over them,
boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away
to their dark, underground cities —
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,
the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding
all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again —
beauty the brave, the exemplary,
blazing open.

Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?"

from New And Selected Poems by Mary Oliver

Being With "Morning Poem," by Mary Oliver

I was just reading aloud the  Mary Oliver poem "Morning Poem" to my husband, Karl.  It made me realize that I misspoke recently when I said I didn't like this book as well as later books. In reality, I just had not taken the time to feel it, read it, appreciate it and "be with it." I believe there is a life lesson here that I get to think more about and be with longer.

7:20a.m. Morning, Birch Lake, Minnesota

Morning Poem

Every morning

the world

is created.

Under the orange

sticks of the sun

the heaped

ashes of the night

turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches ---

and the ponds appear

like black cloth

on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.

If it is your nature

to be happy

you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination

alighting everywhere.

And if your spirit

carries within it

the thorn

that is heavier than lead ---

if it's all you can do

to keep on trudging ---

there is still

somewhere deep within you

a beast shouting that the earth

is exactly what it wanted ---

each pond with its blazing lilies

is a prayer heard and answered

lavishly,

every morning,

whether or not

you have ever dared to be happy,

whether or not

you have ever dared to pray.

                      Mary Oliver

                      New and Selected Poems, Vol. One, 1992

Backyard Birds with Mary Oliver poem

Poem by Mary Oliver:

“How I go to the woods

Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
unsuitable.

I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.

Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.

If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
you very much.”
― Mary Oliver