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Tag Archives: painter


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cornfield. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

in the way that dads are corny, my sweet poppo was just that – a little bit corny. somehow, it seems it’s supposed to be that way. his humor was lighthearted and the way he repeated some jokes was comforting. “do you think the rain will hurt the rhubarb?” he’d quip. waiting just a few seconds, he’d respond to himself – if you didn’t beat him to it – “not if it’s in cans!!” and then he’d laugh. every time.

i think he was buying time to think when he’d quip about the rhubarb. it wasn’t like he was intently concerned about the rhubarb. matter of fact, i only remember them growing rhubarb maybe one or two years, back behind the house. and even then, it wasn’t like he was a huge rhubarb fan. i think the only way he liked it was with strawberries – in a pie.

but his jokes were harmless and predictably silly. no stand-up routine for him, he was just daddy-o, trying his best to carry on. and because he wasn’t a giant conversationalist – he turned that over to my sweet momma – he’d just fill in the gaps. “well, how do you like them apples?” he’d say.

i’m pretty sure he’d had loved the corn we grew in our backyard this summer. the squirrels and chippies had everything to do with this crop. they’d deplete the birdfeeder in mere hours, tossing kernels and seeds everywhere. i have no doubt where the cornfield came from. but it was pretty astounding to see. we suddenly became prolific mini-farmers.

it was everywhere. next to breck, our aspen. inbetween the ornamental grasses. under the birdfeeder. under the potting bench with our herbs. next to the garage. yesterday we found it in the front garden bed.

i could hear david’s dad columbus chuckle from the other side when we found it in the front garden. a cornfield-lover from way back, i figure he might have had something to do with that. we laughed as well, delighted in a – hmmm – corny kind of way.

for the longest time we left it all right where it was. there was something really pleasing about glancing out at the corn.

but then we decided it was time to pull it out, so that it wouldn’t suffocate our intentional plantings. we took pictures and then pulled it, thanking it for the entertainment it had provided.

outside on the driveway we talked to our westneighbors. we talked about our hummingbirds and our feeders and the birdbaths we had placed in our yards and the chippies and squirrels stealing seed and the birds gathering in the bushes. we were all zealous, loving the little creatures in our yards. “we’ve turned into our parents,” i noted and we all nodded and laughed.

“well, how do you like them apples?” i thought.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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buymeacoffee is a “tip jar” donation website where you can help the artists you love continue to create the things you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


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our hope frog. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

and then, there it was. in our pond. the first frog in a couple years.

it was helen, who is steeped in her gift of faith, who told us the significance of having a frog appear. “f-r-o-g,” she said, “fully-rely-on-God.”

it is astounding how very much the appearance of this frog means to us. in the middle of the middle, a nod (or hop) of reassurance is unbelievably gratifying.

not every frog likes a photo shoot, but “hope” participated nonetheless. she was shier than most of our other frogs, but maybe that’s because she’s just getting to know us. one of our frogs – 2020 maybe? named “pando” – actually let me pet it, stroke its head and speak to it up close.

regardless, we’re a tad bit worried because it is so late in the year. she arrived on the equinox and the fall weather will race past the starting gate, sprinting to winter.

we hope that hope will survive the seasons.

in every way.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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buymeacoffee is a “tip jar” donation website where you may help artists you care about continue to do the work you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo.


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food bliss. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

yowza. we are not up-to-date.

it shocks us every time we are out. at the grocery store, at a department store or boutique, at a restaurant. the prices!

though we love a wonderful epicurean experience just like the next person, we rarely have them out in cafes or eateries. the cost of eating out and a generous tip equals quite a few groceries for us. so instead, we end up creating our own dining experiences – at our kitchen table or in the sunroom under happy lights or out on the deck or somewhere else at our pop-up table and stools. we eat as healthy as we can and enjoy a glass of wine with dinner when we can. nothing fancy.

because we believe it’s not really about the food. it’s about being together.

i remember when we were on the whole30 diet. we’d pass a tray full of scrumptious brownies and be taunted by their deliciousness. ultimately – because brownies are not on the whole30 – we’d walk on. and the thing we’d remember is that the brownie experience would have only been about five minutes of food bliss.

in paris – with fabulous cuisine and bistros at every turn – we picnicked at parks and on cathedral steps with baguettes and cheese, olives and tiny salads, glasses of wine. neither of us felt gypped. instead, it was an experience rich with blissful moments, immersed in the city.

and so it’s a little bit like that with eating out for us.

we either need to get the side salad and bread or we just need to find our food bliss somewhere else.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2023 kerrianddavid.com
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places you carry. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

my tree. i found a photograph of my tree. the one i sat in for the years i was growing up on long island. i wrote poetry and tinkered with lyrics and sorted out the pinings of teenagehood. in that tree.

things are never as big as what you remember. the maple tree wasn’t huge – but it provided solace and a quiet, private place for me. i’d climb up and sit on one of the limbs, my back against the sturdy trunk, sun filtered through the leaves, my bedroom window within view. it wasn’t in a thick forest. and it wasn’t a giant old tree. it was a younger maple, just old enough to wisely offer me space, fill the place in me that needed it.

we walked into the silo. it was silent and tall. like a tiny round cathedral, it hit us both as a place you could sit, meditate, think, pray. a place to go to when you need to get centered again, when all else is spinning, when blustering winds or words are pummeling you, when you feel you cannot stop.

as we stepped in, damp cool gentle air wrapped around us. everything slowed down – hushed slow motion in a cave. had we had a chance to sit, we would have folded our legs beneath us, closed our eyes. leaned back against the trunk … oh, wait, it was cement…

quiet spaces are like that. inordinately remarkable, uncannily ordinary. but they share something. serenity.

guided imagery meditation ushers you to a quiet place. in belleruth naparstek’s meditations she invites that space to be anywhere – the forest, the shore, the desert, the canyon. places that have brought you peace. places you hold in your mind’s eye. places that are sacred to you.

even without guided imagery we find our own corners and crannies. they are the porches of our hearts – a spot to rest and rock.

i suppose the gift of these places is the unexpectedness. the silo was unexpected. the log on the side of the mountain stream, the jetty jutting into the sound, the edge of the canyon. i guess the first time so was my tree.

it’s all in recognizing it when you feel it. and you’re forever changed as you carry that place with you.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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IN QUIET PRAYER acrylic 16″x20″

PAX acrylic 24″x24″
buymeacoffee is a “tip jar” donation site where you may help support artists whose work you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


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tattered heart. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

i ask that you hold my tattered heart gently

and that you stand with me in the wind

so as to tether me to something

beating

i ask you to see

the rips and the holes and the rough edges

sometimes peering at them closely

sometimes from afar

bringing salve to open wounds

and light to dark

i ask you to be real

love

to not expect a heart not battered

by storms and swells

by fallow and failure

to not expect a heart not swollen

by riptides and windshear

by tears and deluge

by uninhibited adoration

by wavering pride and ever-present bootstraps

i ask you not to be reckless

it is more fragile than you realize

and stronger than i imagine

and its wrinkles in time

mark life

and land next to my eyes

where you can see if i laughed

or cried

and i am again open to float

to feel the passing seasons

and to hold the passion of the sun

and the cool rest of the night sky

it is not threadbare

it is merely tattered

yes

but it is whole

in its ragged

and alive

and beating

with yours

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a “tip jar” website where you may help support the artists whose work you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


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fluid flame. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

in these days – in any days – i could sit and – for long periods of time – stare at a dancing flame. much like cumulus clouds lazily floating by in a brilliant sky, my imagination drinks in the possibilities…every moment a different shape. constant flux.

“i do not understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us.” (anne lamott)

no given moment – as i have learned – is static. no given moment – as i have learned – is untouched. every everything is moving and swirling and spinning and the unexpected is right around the corner. just exactly when you think nothing is going to ever change. it’s fluid flame.

enthralled with it (my astrological element is fire) i took out my camera and started shooting flame photos, one after the other. it took less than a minute. it’s sometimes hard to remember that, in the overall arc of time, change is the only constant. one needs only watch the flame to get a sense of the evanescence of it all.

these moments – in the dark cool of a late summer night – the sounds of a few tenacious cicadas on the wind and squirrels scrambling along the wires and branches – watching the fire column interpretive dance – were glimmers. they visually reminded me of change taking place – that i can feel, that i can intuit, that i cannot even imagine.

and for a few minutes – precious minutes in these days – i gave over to the flame, grace and the mystery.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a “tip jar” donation site where you may help support artists whose work you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


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discernment. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

the volunteer morning glory just showed up. all of a sudden. in-between the cornstalks growing under our birdfeeder, when the sun was low in the sky, its quiet blue-purple peeked out. i – literally – ran to it. and there, tucked in, were two beautiful morning glory blooms. but – absent – were the infamous heart-shaped leaves. i googled it. an unwelcome volunteer, this ivy leaf morning glory can be toxic to our dogga – who loves to graze on various vegetation – and, sadly, must be pulled out.

i was going to try to avoid the obvious parallel here – volunteers who show up, but not with the best of intentions. we’ve all met them. people with power and control fantasies who turn up in organizations where they immediately volunteer for positions of leadership. because organizations are eager for the energy of new volunteers – even when they are unknown – many will thoughtlessly place someone into these positions without restraint. that’s when all hell breaks loose. (welp, i guess i didn’t avoid it.) the ivy leaf morning glory can be hallucinogenic and can cause tremors and other physical ailments in a pet. yes…same, same. an organization can tremor itself into oblivion with the perceived goodness (read: agenda) of the volunteer, new or otherwise. it’s best not to allow your sweet dog or your cherished organization to ingest mind-altering substances.

but on the flip side? had this volunteer purple-blue flower been safe, it would be heartily welcomed in our garden. we welcomed the small cornfields that dot our yard. we welcome the volunteer ornamental grasses that show up where we didn’t plant them. we welcome the sneaky groundcover with yellow flowers and the wild geranium. but – since the ivy leaf morning glory is over there by the corn where dogdog schnuffles around – and it’s noxious – we will be cautious. we aren’t watching him every moment while he’s outside in his backyard and we want him to be safe.

and so today we’ll thank the beautiful flowers of this variety of morning glory as we pull it out and we’ll protect our sweet tripper. no volunteer flower is worth him suffering in any way. our discernment is imperative.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a donation “tip jar” site where you may help support the continued work of artists you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


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one giant meadow. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

we have a meadow in our basement. it’s tucked in the northwest corner. indigenous wildflowers, stacked in boxes, cardboard containers of native blooms.

the oeuvre of decades, shrink-wrapped, flowers from seeds of thought-lyrics, of melodic gestures, of teasing harmonies, of simple evocative lines.

waiting, impossibly, to return to a time of compact discs. waiting, impossibly, for the invasives of streaming to get under control, to support independent artists rather than undermine their success, their ability for forward-movement.

the meadow sometimes beckons – like a soft wind through tall grasses – waving to me, begging me to step into the bramble and thick vegetation. like most good meadows, there is no clear path. you simply must walk in and turn – 360° – looking around, stunned by all the wild – flowers and weeds, both.

the broadcast music inc royalty check arrived. it was for $60.72. though it’s likely a few hundred thousand, i didn’t add up all the counts (listens). but one piece caught my attention. its play on youtube alone totalled 15,212 counts of this piece. my total royalties for this: $1.21. (for perspective on this: even if only 5000 people downloaded this piece of music for 99 cents and listened to it as many times as they wished, it would bring in approx $3465 (there are iTunes fees) instead of $1.21. a stunning difference.)

and we have another meadow in the basement. the canvases of bloomed paintings stack against the west wall; the easel stands in the northwest corner. the digital age of download and print has entered the art world of hanging wire and levels.

canvases, paint, jewelcases, polycarbonate plastic, discography – our wildflowers in the basement. the meadows are cultivated in fields of artistry, of color, of sound, of words and notes and splashes.

robust meadows self-seed. as do artists. we create despite roadblocks, despite the undervaluing of our work, despite the stacks of antique-store-someday-bound cds and canvas. despite it all.

but just like meadows need help – to more than just exist – to eradicate the invasive species, to grow, to prosper, to thrive – so do artists.

at long last – and truly for reasons of existence – we are contemplating a patreon account – a subscription donation platform to help support artists to continue to do the work you value, the work that has moved you, the work you turn to – as we gratefully acknowledge those of you who have contributed to our buymeacoffee tip jar. this simply means a monthly donation – as low as $2/month – that helps to make up the difference that the world has thrust upon artists. some readers may consider this timely, an avenue through which they may participate. some readers may consider this self-serving. either way, we are interested in your thoughts. feel free to email us: kerrianddavid1111@gmail.com. and watch for this – a patreon – one of these days.

we gaze over at the basement-meadows and ponder what is in our hearts, what is left for us to do, what is ours to do. we are each true to our work and, in the spirit of the fault in our stars, we know that we have – indeed – done good work if we have touched even one person along the way.

“do the best you can until you know better. then, when you know better, do better.” (maya angelou)

it’s all a journey in one giant meadow. and the difference between hardly existing and thriving.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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buyeacoffee is a donation “tip jar” site where you may help support an artist’s work that has touched you, helped you, moved you. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


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zinnia-time. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

and – just when it was beautiful enough – nature raised the bar. and the zinnia produced a round of tiny yellow flowers – a crown atop the center of the already-stunning flower. beauty squared.

it’s like adding a weep-worthy soaring cello line or a mournful french horn to a solo piano piece of music. beautiful enough, raised up.

i’ve been going through old bins in the basement, boxes in the attic. i’ve found old photos and old journals i had forgotten about: pictures of early life in new york, early life in florida. they catapult me way back in time, back to hanging out on the beach, roadtripping with my cherished friend sue, early days of choir-directing, youth groups i led. i took pictures of nearly everything, so it’s the absence of pictures of people or places or events that is noteworthy.

life isn’t always a zinnia.

and sometimes, it’s the long story that makes the short stories more bearable. we survive periods in our lives that seem unsolvable, painful, unending. years later we open the bins and see evidence of our enduring, our fortitude, even our clinging to flotsam and jetsam.

so it must be during the time in-between that we grow a second row of tiny flowers inside, ready and waiting for us, whenever we are ready for them, for those times we couldn’t see the beauty.

the weather this past weekend was stunning. with an invitation to autumn, this september saturday and sunday were blissfully sunny and cooler. a good time to sit on the back patio. a good time to marvel at the plumes on the grasses, to watch the cherry tomatoes ripen. and a good time to work in the dirt, to tend to the herbs, to take a hike, to brush the dogga, to witness the dance of the hummingbirds. in the middle of several ongoing projects – really important things that need our attention – we took the good time.

zinnia-time.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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buymeacoffee is a donation site where you may help support the continued work of artists you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


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ifaqh. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

on just the right day, at the end of just the right week, at just the right place, at just the right time – we found a quilted heart.

a random-act-of-kindness initiative, this quilted heart was tagged and stated, “i need a home.” we plucked it off the tree on the side of the trail and carried it with us – home.

ifaqh (i found a quilted heart) is an anonymous project – they state on their site that “it is not about the maker of the heart; it is about the finder.” it is not affiliated with any organization or group and they “remain neutral”. they “place small quilted hearts around the globe to brighten the day of a stranger.”

and they did.

and the thing it immediately did – in my mind – was make me think about all the fabric i have in my sewing bins with which i could make quilted hearts – and all the places we could leave them for others. much like our planted-out-there painted rocks, these take us out of our own overstuffed angsty brains and into a spirit of goodness toward others. generosity overrides a worried heart. an intention, it turns us outward.

on this very day, at this very place, at this exact time, this little quilted heart was precisely what we needed.

i’m grateful for this simple gesture – being placed all over the world. hearts are the same no matter where you are: a reminder of love understood despite language or cultural differences, a gift given – anonymously – to sow joy.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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buymeacoffee is a donation website where you may support the ability of artists to continue the work you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo