A Fairy Tale from The Glen | A Story of Loneliness, Magic & Springtime Hope

CLOUD 9

CLOUD 9 - WIP

Pudding Cake Cove: a place of my dreams.
When I paint, I most often find myself on cloud 9. Usually, while my husband cooks, I paint."Where's your mind, Anna"? When he continues talking, I often reply with the phrase, "I'm on cloud 9", having no clue what he said following his inquiry.
Painting allows me to create the places I dream of. The sea is one place I love and love to paint. I suppose it is because I was born by the sea. One can never forget their first home.
I'm not sure what to call my art style. I guess it is naive, along with the style of Maud Lewis.


So, here is my current happy place.

- "Cloud 9" 2024 WIP acrylic on oval canvas 20 x 14

Maybe add a Seastar on the beach and lighten the sea cave entrance.

Oh, of course listening to CLOUD 9 BY GEORGE HARRISON 

The Lord is my Shepherd

I painted this pastoral seascape with sheep because I always had a secret wish as a young girl to be a Shepherdess and live in the countryside surrounded by nature.

" The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever."

"A Psalm of David. A 3000 year-old -POEM PRAYER I love so very much. 

What does it mean that the Lord is my Shepherd 

( Psalm 23) ?

STORMY WEATHER

I love, love, love the rain. The " pitterin', patterin', beatin', spatterin' " sound of rain against my window comforts me.


And when I watch a spooky, scary, ghostly movie, stormy weather makes the perfect companion.








STORMY WEATHER ~ 2024 ACRYLIC ON ARTIST'S CONK






STORMY WEATHER ~ ETHEL WATERS 1933





Stormy Weather


Don't know whyThere's no sun up in the sky Stormy weather Since my man and I ain't together Keeps rainin' all the time Life is bare Gloom and misery everywhere Stormy weather Just can't get my poor self together I'm weary all the time, the time So weary all the time When he went away, the blues walked in and met me If he stays away, old rocking chair will get me All I do is pray the Lord above will let me Walk in the sun once more Can't go on All I have in life is gone Stormy weather Since my man and I ain't together Keeps rainin' all the time Keeps rainin' all the time I walk around, heavy-hearted and sad Night comes around, I'm still feelin' bad Rain pourin' down, blindin' every hope I had This pitterin', patterin', beatin' and spatterin' drives me mad Love, love, love, love This misery is just too much for me Can't go on Everything I had is gone Stormy weather Since my man and I ain't together Keeps rainin' all the time Keeps rainin' all the time

AH, NOTHING IS TOO LATE! — WIP OF SEASCAPE

Wip of Seascape -

' JULY 5TH, 1868: Today I have completed sixty-four Springtimes...and now here I am, a very old woman, embarked on my-sixty-fifth year. By one of those strange oddities in my destiny, I am now in much better health, much stronger, much more active, than I ever was in my youth... I am troubled by no hankering after the days my youth: I am no longer ambitious for fame: I desire no money except in so far as I should like to be able to leave something to my children and grandchildren...This astonishing old age... has brought me neither infirmity nor lowered vitality.

Can I still make myself useful? That one may legitimately ask, and I think that I can answer 'yes'. I feel that I may be useful in a more personal, more direct way than ever before. I have, though how I do not know, acquired much wisdom. I am better equipped to bring up children... It is quite wrong to think of old age as a downward slope. One climbs higher and higher with the advancing years, and that, too, with surprising strides. How good life is when all that one loves is as warm with life! '

Letter from George Sand to a friend

George Sand

I have completed sixty- six Springtimes... and now here I am, embarked on my sixty-seventh year. Although far from great health like George Sand ... I desire no fame only maybe more hair : ) and enough money to move into the country or a larger older home and have that to leave behind to my children. Age has given me much wisdom and lessons learned. It's never too late - I Love painting ♥️, creating, learning. 

MUSIC 

Mariage D'amour by Paul de Senneville

It is too late! Ah, nothing is too late—

Cato learned Greek at eighty; Sophocles 
Wrote his grand “Oedipus,” and Simonides
Bore off the prize of verse from his compeers
When each had numbered more than fourscore years;
And Theophrastus, at fourscore and ten,
Had begun his “Characters of Men.”
Chaucer, at Woodstock, with his nightingales,
At sixty wrote the “Canterbury Tales.”
Goethe, at Weimar, toiling to the last,
Completed “Faust” when eighty years were past.
What then? Shall we sit idly down and say,
“The night has come; it is no longer day”?
For age is opportunity no less
Than youth itself, though in another dress.
And as the evening twilight fades away,
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
It is never too late to start doing what is right.
Never.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

'Ah! What pleasant visions haunt me As I gaze upon the sea!' - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I'm haunted and bewitched by the beautiful celestial image I witnessed with my family on April 8th, 2024, of the solar eclipse. I find myself painting white suns these days. Even after bringing an unwanted hitchhiker home from the event, the tick : ) He, as well, was curious and wanted to see. I suppose he had an excellent place to watch from : )

The cliff and water need more work. Maybe add something else to the painting as well.

WIP ACRYLIC PAINTING 10 X 8 CANVAS

April Snow

April Snow

April Snow  6 x 6 Acrylic Anna 2024

April snow turned spring into a wintry scene. 
Winter - just catching up with some lost time.

🎵 A BEAUTIFUL MUSICAL COVER OF YANNI  BY WHITE KNIGHT INSTRUMENTAL 

NIGHT DREAM SERIES ~ HEART'S DESIRE ~ A WOOD OF MY OWN

There is nothing wrong with dreaming a wish your heart makes. 

My heart's desire ~ own a woodland.

Heart's Desire ~ A Wood of My Own ~ Anna 2024

Inspired by the book I was reading, 'The Hidden Life of Trees', and my dreamscape, I wanted to paint another woodland. 

I began the painting with tall trees and a path. A hidden spring rushed from behind the tall branchless trees down to a velvet green meadow where violets secretly were beginning to bloom in early March. Hearts followed me with every brush stroke, popping up in the most unexpected places. Even when I took my blood sugar this morning, one flowed out of my finger in a heart. And the angel #4, well, that too magically appeared only I extended the cross line.

Illuminated by a starry night sky, the woods show their secret hearts in Spring.

LOVELY ARE THE WOODS IN SPRING ~ THE HIDEOUT

LOVELY ARE THE WOODS IN SPRING ~ THE HIDEOUT
One month is past, another is begun,
Since merry bells rang out the dying year,
And buds of rarest green began to peer,
As if impatient for a warmer sun;
And though the distant hills are bleak and dun,
The virgin snowdrop, like a lambent fire,
Pierces the cold earth with it's green-streaked spire
And in dark woods, the wandering little one
May find a primrose. Hartley Coleridge
I believe I'm done.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There Be Ghosts

There are no ghosts to see, just a feeling of loneliness in the stillness of the woods. The faint chirp of a single bird echoes in the lonely grove.
First coat of paint. I shall take my time with this painting.
I love watching Columbo and Perry Mason while I paint. There is something magical about my old favorites; they help me focus on my work. 

WIP 20 X 14 OVAL STRETCHED CANVAS

Vintage Wood

“If you have never had a garden you cannot understand, and if you have had a garden you will know that it would take a whole book to describe all that came to pass there.”
We saw a deer yesterday; I think she brought us good luck
Poor thing couldn't find a way out of the maze. I sure hope she found a way to her home.

I miss the trees, the birds, and the wildlife. 

WIP 20 X 14 OVAL

 

“Perhaps it is the key to the garden!” 

― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

FLORENCE BLUME THE GHOST , BAT AND MAGGIE, OSGOODE AND PUDDING

"I look around me, and, lo! On every visage, a black veil! Pleasant is a rainy winter's day, within doors! The best study for such a day, or the best amusement,---call it which you will,--- is a book... "

TWICE TOLD TALES

FLORENCE BLUME THE GHOST

A night enjoying Perry Mason and studying my painting

The pitter-pattering of the rain on the window pane had made Florence fall asleep. It only had been a minute, although it felt like hours to Florence.
Waking in a clouded daze, he found all four cats still in the Spirit room. Osgoode was climbing up his lap while Pudding snuggled under his chin. They had come for a sleepover with Bat and Maggie. Florence had promised them some spooky stories before bedtime. Unfortunately, the little kittens had given Florence such a workout he fell asleep during Perry Mason in The Case of The Wary Wildcatter" and missed the ending. Now Florence was awake, he couldn't wait to read them the stories. Bedtime would follow and Florence could catch the ending he missed.

CLOUDY DAZE 2023

ANNABELLE AND M 🖤

Annabelle and M OUR ETSY SHOP

VISITING THE ANCESTORS

 Florence and Bat went on a little trip to Genova, Italy, to visit Florence's family at Cimitero di Staglieno: one of the most beautiful cemeteries in the world. 

When I was little, my aunt Virgina brought me to a beautiful garden. I remember the air being hot, dry, and infused with the smell of pine. We wandered through a maze of mysterious sculptured figures and monuments so elaborate in intricate detail, so life-like, I was sure the people were alive under the dusty marble facades. We were visiting our ancestors. The garden was a cemetery, and it was gorgeous. Ghosts of the past are here in their final resting place. And what a beautiful place to be in death. Cimitero Monumental di Staglieno; haunting and so beautiful. I was never to forget it. 

Below is an excerpt of what the American writer Mark Twain said after visiting Staglieno :

 “Our last sight was the cemetery (a burial place intended to accommodate 60,000 bodies), and we shall continue to remember it after we shall have forgotten the palaces. It is a vast marble colonnaded corridor extending around a great unoccupied square of ground; its broad floor is marble, and on every slab is an inscription - for every slab covers a corpse. On either side, as one walks down the middle of the passage, are monuments, tombs, and sculptured figures that are exquisitely wrought and are full of grace and beauty. They are new and snowy; every outline is perfect, every feature guiltless of mutilation, flaw, or blemish; and therefore, to us these far-reaching ranks of bewitching forms are a hundred fold more lovely than the damaged and dingy statuary they have saved from the wreck of ancient art and set up in the galleries of Paris for the worship of the world." 

"Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see." 

GENOA: Stunning sculptures 🏛️, Monumental Cemetery (Cimitero Monumentale di Staglieno)

@batandmaggie @hauntedwalk @rideau_walkingtours @harpercollinsch@ottawabloggers #art #artgallery#ghost #bookstagram #book #booklover #catart #story #instagram #instagood#instadaily #insta #cimiteromonumentale#cimitero#cemetery #halloween #grave #beautiful #haunting

SWEPT AWAY TO ANOTHER WORLD - IS THERE LIFE ON MARS?

Florence and Bat went to the seaside for the day.


FLORENCE : The crashing waves on a hot summer's day playfully mix with the crescendos of Life on Mars that's playing inside my head. Dreaming under a shy sun, we have been swept away: to another world. Is there life on Mars?


WIP Inspired by David Bowie and Edward Gorey

★ LEFT SIDE OF PAINTING IN THE SAND SPELLS BOWIE ★

LIFE ON MARS


It's a God-awful small affairTo the girl with the mousy hair
But her mummy is yelling, "No"
And her daddy has told her to go
But her friend is nowhere to be seen
Now she walks through her sunken dream
To the seat with the clearest view
And she's hooked to the silver screen
But the film is a saddening bore
For she's lived it ten times or more
She could spit in the eyes of fools
As they ask her to focus on
Sailors fighting in the dance hall
Oh man, look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man, wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show
Is there life on Mars?



It's on America's tortured brow
That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow
Now the workers have struck for fame
'Cause Lennon's on sale again
See the mice in their million hordes
From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads
Rule Britannia is out of bounds
To my mother, my dog, and clowns

But the film is a saddening bore
'Cause I wrote it ten times or more
It's about to be writ again
As I ask you to focus on



Sailors fighting in the dance hall
Oh man, look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man, wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show
Is there life on Mars?


- DAVID BOWIE **** "HE IS NOT DEAD HE IS LIVING ON MARS" @niallooo

 

ANOTHER GHOST OF A CAT - GENTLEMAN X 👀🐾🐾🐾🐾🖤

ANOTHER GHOST OF A CAT - GENTLEMAN X 👀🐾🐾🐾🐾🖤

He felt someone's eyes on his face. He looked up, across the room, on the top of the picture shelf; the portrait of a gentleman cat in a smoking jacket, wearing an Ascot around his neck, looked back at him. Immediately, Florence didn't waste time and headed straight for the cat. Another painting for his collection he wanted: that's what an art collector does and doesn't worry about where it will hang. When a cat dressed in human clothing, especially when wearing an ascot, becomes available, you don't let it escape you, very rare indeed! It's what you call Anthropomorphism, animals wearing people's clothes, and in Victorian times, it was very much in fashion. Florence grabbed the painting and checked the artist's mark: as he'd suspected, a Neuville, a Mitsou Neuville.

The gentleman cat had no name, for now. There was something mysterious and captivating about the tabby cat with the pronounced M on its forehead, and the more Florence looked at him, the more he couldn't look away. It's his eyes he thought. They want to speak to me. 







Another little share from the book - FLORENCE BLUME👀🖤 




*ALL OUR VISITORS BRING HAPPINESS

SOME BY COMING AND OTHERS BY GOING *




"Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see." 




A mother/daughter Ghostly Adventure, writing together for the first time about their favorite subject, the supernatural.

♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ FLORENCE BLUME -MERRICKVILLE

© 2023

EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK - FLORENCE BLUME - 👀🖤

Florence didn't have a wife keeping count of his ever-growing collection of old things. However, it did come at a cost. He had successfully filled his house to the rafters, in the attic, in the basement, in the garage, and in the small cottage at the back of the property.

The other day, Florence found an old book at the thrift store someone had painted inside of.

One of the paintings was of a woman sitting with a cat on her lap: I wonder who she was, Florence uttered out loud, no one there to hear him.




Excerpt from the book - FLORENCE BLUME👀🖤




*ALL OUR VISITORS BRING HAPPINESS

SOME BY COMING AND OTHERS BY GOING *




"Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see." - Happy April 1st

And A Happy Caturday🐾🐾🐾🐾


A mother/daughter Ghostly Adventure, writing together for the first time about their favorite subject, the supernatural.

♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ © 2023

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ☘️

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ☘️

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ☘️

Sometimes, you have to believe in ghosts, fairies, and the luck of the Irish.

This little black pussy cat was rescued early this morning on Saint Patty's Day. Florence picked up the tiny creature who wasn't quite ready for upstairs with some help from the fairies. They lent Florence their Fairy's ladder made of Lily of the Valley. The fragrance was heavenly. Now, Florence had a new kitten to name.


Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ☘️


This is a very old Irish poem written by a monk in the 8th or 9th century.

"Pangur was a common name for cats at that place and time and the word “Ban” means white in Gaelic."




Pangur Ban - THE IRISH CAT POEM (vulpeslibris.wordpress.com)

I and Pangur Ban, my cat,

'Tis a like task we are at;

Hunting mice is his delight,

Hunting words I sit all night.




Better far than praise of men

'Tis to sit with book and pen;

Pangur bears me no ill will;

He, too, plies his simple skill.




'Tis a merry thing to see

At our task how glad are we,

When at home we sit and find

Entertainment to our mind.




Oftentimes a mouse will stray

Into the hero Pangur's way;

Oftentimes my keen thought set

Takes a meaning in its net.




'Gainst the wall he sets his eye

Full and fierce and sharp and sly;

'Gainst the wall of knowledge I

All my little wisdom try.




When a mouse darts from its den.

O how glad is Pangur then!

O what gladness do I prove

When I solve the doubts I love!




So in peace our tasks we ply,

Pangur Ban, my cat and I;

In our arts we find our bliss,

I have mine, and he has his.




Practice every day has made

Pangur perfect in his trade ;

I get wisdom day and night,

Turning Darkness into light.'




Translation by Robin Flowers

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ☘️

“A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.”E.B.WHITE - WRITING A GHOST STORY

WRITING A GHOST STORY 👀

I am a romantic for ghost stories. 

Spooky, mysterious, and entertaining spooks on tv always trap me for an hour or two in telling their scary tales. I believe many people believe in ghosts. I never was one to keep a bucket list, although I do have a few things on a list I would like to achieve before that time; writing a ghost story is one. I wish I could write, and I wish I could paint, I wish I could play the piano. Unfortunately, I do none of those things well. My writing is atrocious. If not for Grammarly and my daughter, I would be lost. Still, I have the desire to write a spooky story. A couple of quotes by E.B. White, one of my favorite authors, inspire me to keep writing. “I admire anybody who has the guts to write anything at all.” And ... “A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.” ― E.B. White. So true. M, my daughter, is my ghostwriter. We are collaborating on this ghostly tale. I recently watched Eugene Levy's, 'The Reluctant Traveler. He met up with a gondolier in Venice and talked about working with their kids. Mr.Levy mentioned how much he had enjoyed working with his son Daniel for seven years. So now, mother and daughter are working together on a ghost book. Today is my birthday; I turn 66. I was born on March 10th, 1957, a wonderful year. And the year I die, well, hopefully, be just as wonderful. No matter how difficult, I want to reach my goal; write the ghost book with my daughter. In the end, I leave behind an artistic legacy for my children. When one has a will, there is always a way. ♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ © 2023 @batandmaggie

MAGGIE

BAT

STORMY, STORMY, STORMY WEATHER

A perfect stormy night for a good sleep, the old ghost thought.

It poured and rained, such a sweet sleep filled with dreams of his earthly life and memories. Stormy, stormy, stormy weather was his favorite weather.

And then, the sounds of the thundering storm were interrupted by the breaking of glass. Ghost got out of bed and went downstairs to investigate who had disturbed his sleep: a baby owl; perched on the broken window pane. Maggie and Bat were wondering why he was there.







The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.




My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.




Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A mother/daughter Ghostly Adventure, writing together for the first time about their favorite subject, the supernatural. ♥️ Annabelle & M ♥️ © 2023 @batandmaggie (Daughter's instagram account)