I love this shot of my niece Ellie at our local parade. She sat in rapt attention next to me for the whole event.
Duck Puppies
Do you want to see duck puppies? I ask, scooping my niece up in my arms and jogging down the drive with her bouncing and giggling. I take her to the pond below her house. Unfortunately, the "duck puppies" are hiding amidst the cattails, but I spy them later when I return on my own. It is the season for avian births, I guess, because I have stumbled upon two happy families this week. First, when I visited a local pond to show my nephew a good fishing spot and then today at my niece Ellie's.
I have returned three times to watch the Canadian geese and their clan of seven goslings. The parents stand watch over them so diligently, the babies sticking close to the mama. One gets brave and waddles down to the shore and Mama eventually goes in after him, the other six in tow. She gathers them back on shore, but when they become weary of watching me, the parents finally move them, forming a single-file line across the water.
The duck's behavior is similar, but there is no papa around. Mama is a single lady in this scenario, but she keeps her brood just as close. I spy them again as I stand at the water's edge photographing flowers. Suddenly there is a splash beneath me and the bank flutters threatening to toss me in the water. Instead, I catch my balance just in time to raise my camera and capture a picture of the moving huddle of ducks, which had been camped out in the weeds beneath me. Mama transplants them to a safer venue and soon they are a brown blotch against the weeds.
Families can be complicated, relations strained as children grow older and seek independence. These happy tribes have not reached that point yet; nature will take its course in due time. Right now they are true units, working as one. I visit and soak in their happy energy. Whether it be ducks. humans or puppies, I am drawn to the notion of tribes, the allure of babies and the magic inherent in those first steps of discovery. I wish I could bottle it all. I wish I could claim it for my own.
Writing Prompt: Tomorrow
Last week I visited my sister-in-law to take pictures of her, my niece Catherine, and my brother's dog, Sophie, to send to my brother at bootcamp. In the golden light of the late afternoon sun, I shot myriad photos. Our family's farmland stood as a backdrop for most of them. I will be posting some of them throughout the next few days. I imagine my brother weary and physically drained, opening a letter on his bunk as the pictures pore out on his lap -- his gorgeous wife, his beautiful daughter, his sweet dog poised in front of his home. They will call to him and tug at his heart. They say no one knows what tomorrow looks like, but I study this picture of my niece and I see into the future and the woman she will become. I bet my brother will see it, too, and it will make his heart break a little bit more. He will feel both love and longing and he will look forward to coming home.
Writing Prompt: Picture the face of tomorrow. Write about it.
Writing Prompt: Gardens
I do not plant my own garden, but I revel in the gardens of others. Across from my house, in an island of pavement is a small grassy triangle. Members of the community maintain this small, patch of earth each spring by planting flowers that change as the season progresses – evolving from tulips and daffodils to daisies and irises. I await the arrival of the first buds each year, seeing them rise as the sun ascends and shares its warmth with us. It is my signal that spring is upon us. Every time I see her, I rush to inform one of the women in town, the one who helps tend this garden, how much it means to me. She seems thankful, if sedate, as I gush over the flowers. Her own lawn is equally adorned, so perhaps she cannot digest just how much I appreciate her efforts, how tied I am to those blossoming patches of color across the lawn. They have been a backdrop for photos of my nieces and nephews, a garden hideaway to retreat amidst the fairies, a place to witness their inner men and women emerge as they strike magical poses well beyond their years. It has allowed me a reprieve from computers and deadlines, a minute field in which to roam for 10 minutes, camera in hand. It has been a place to say goodbyes, a train platform to see my dying dog off to another world.
Vader died a year ago June 1st and for the month leading up to his death, my nieces, nephews and I would frequently tote his limp form, along with his constant companion, his stuffed “Humpie Doggie” across the road to sit him in the flowers and allow him a few moments of sun. His body carved out a small sunken dent in the hollow of the flower bed and I imagine I see it there still, although the flowers this year have arranged themselves in a different pattern. There are yellow irises now, tons of them, although last year I remember varied colors. It would be easy to say that the color has faded since Vader’s death, but it is not true. I miss him, but the world is warm and golden. Waffles and Alfie frolic in the back yard and wait eagerly by the gate as I water the tomato plants my father chose to plant this year. Life wilts and grows, ebbs and flows.
The grandmother of the boy I loved is dying in the garden room of the local hospital where my grandmother, too, passed away. He and his cousins make plans to fly home for her funeral even while she remains alive. Our lives are busy and do not slow, but the world is green and full; the sky blue with marshmallow clouds. If we had a choice, we would not leave it today. We would sit in the garden and enjoy it a spell, feeling the warmth on our faces, reveling in the life around us.
I try to remember this. So on the anniversary of his death, I visited Vader’s tree on our front lawn; the place where I had rested with him in the hours before his death, looking up at the leafy canopy, embracing the light from the sun. I stretched out on the dirt and grass, not caring if my dress clothes became grass stained and soiled and I looked up once again – thankful for his small life and all the life that has occurred in the year he’s been gone. I sat up and stared across the lawn at his garden, thinking how tall my nieces and nephews had grown in a year, how much life had changed – my niece Ellie was only a baby in a basket when she visited last Memorial Day, now she is a rambunctious toddler – “go, go, go” is her catchphrase. I got Waffles once Vader was gone, joined a Writer’s Group, gave a reading, welcomed and bid farewell to three classes of students, started a blog. I traveled to Laguna Beach, Washington D.C., Woodstock, NY. My brother went off to boot camp and my Mom had a cataract removed. I wrote articles and stories, drew pictures and paintings. My niece spoke my name. Life is full. We bud and we bloom. We bid goodbye. And, on a good day we are aware of it all and thankful for our gardens.
Writing Prompt: Return to a memory from last year. Write about it.
Ellie, Go, Go, Go
The Montshire Museum of Science, a great hands-on museum for kids, is located a little over 30 miles from my home. We took my niece Ellie and her parents there last week and they said they’d love to return today for Mother’s Day. So, we took my mom out to lunch at a nearby Italian restaurant and then hit the Montshire. My 16-month old niece, who loves balls and balloons almost more than anything else on the planet, found herself in seventh heaven with all the gravity and spinning exhibits featuring balls, but I have to say her favorite activity seems to be riding the elevator up and down between the first and second floors. There is a small round window complete with a little footstool she can sit or stand on and look out. She especially loves it if one of us remains down below and she gets to look out the window and spy “Mommy, Daddy, Bee (me) or Nini (Nana). Today, she also seemed to enjoy lifting the arm of her stroller and climbing in and out. I joked that we could have saved money on our membership if we had just let her do this at home. She did not enjoy the little boy who kept hogging the inflatable beach ball in one of the exhibits. She didn’t understand why he kept hugging the ball instead of bouncing it and would periodically trot over him and pound the ball out of his hands, declaring “Bounce.”
One of Ellie’s favorite expressions is “go, go, go.” We certainly did that. It was a pretty tiring day and I had to laugh when my sister-in-law sent me a video of Ellie on her way home. She entitled the text “Ellie Relaxing After a Visit With Bee and Nini.” I sent her the photo below entitled “Auntie Bee After A Visit with Ellie.”
Video of Ellie After Visiting Bee and Nini
One of the blog readers, Suzanne, answered my post from the other night inquiring as to what everyone was doing this weekend by saying she eventually hoped to curl up with her dog. That is exactly what I am doing now. Tomorrow is a day full of doctor’s appointments. We are going to see my mother’s surgeon to find out details about her upcoming knee replacement surgery and I am seeing a doctor regarding my recent bout of illness. I’m hoping to get a clean bill of health to go visit a friend in D.C. and attend Blogpaws 2013, a conference for pet bloggers. Right now, however, all I can think about is sleep!
Happy Mother’s Day to Everyone. I hope it was as full and happy as mine!
Raine's Testing
My family and I gathered today to watch my 11-year-old nephew Raine test for his high-red belt in Taekwando. Once again a good sampling from the community was present – not as many as were at Christian’s RTCC open house the other night, but still a good number. It was as if someone had cut a large slice of community pie and placed it in the old red schoolhouse on the Vermont Technical College campus.
At one time or other a good portion of the surrounding towns pass through the doors of Master Rotta’s Tae Kwan Do studio. Raine’s own siblings, Avery and Tori, presently take Taekwando. My nephew Adam and Christian both have as has my best friend’s husband and son. Today, a mother and son tested together as the father, a black belt, judged. Families sat in groups with video cameras and point-and-shoots as the spring rain steadily fell and a cold breeze blew through the windows.
My mother, brother, sister-in-law and I claimed one corner, huddled amidst the pile of pine boards my brother had purchased for Raine to break. When it was time, he came over to the corner and chose from among the stack a few choice boards. Then his friends held them while he spun and kicked, breaking the boards. He sparred and demonstrated his forms and we clapped and ohhed and ahhed. My mother worried that Raine would become dehydrated or get hurt, but he breezed through.
When Raine’s turn came to receive his new stripe, Master Rotta gave him a warm hug. I moved to the front of the room to snap a photo and Rose, one of the tellers from the local credit union, whose husband was also testing, told me it was okay to stand in front of her video camera as it was off at the moment.
Everyone seemed eager to help everyone else out. At this moment it was as if each person and their feats belonged to everyone in the room. And, in many ways they did. Each kick and block and broken board represented hours of practice and hours of toting kids to and from Master Rotta’s studio and even more hours of sitting and watching and cheering and as with any sport the spectators eventually feel caught up in the game as if they have a stake. They invested their hearts in this and as each kid or testing adult approached Master Rotta to receive their new belt or stripe, these very hearts swelled with pride.
Girls and Dogs
The saying goes “dogs are a man’s best friend,” but I think there may be an untold story about girls and their dogs, too.
Today, I posted a give-a-way on my blog for a boxed set of notecards featuring collages of “Girls and Dogs.” I was surprised by the comments I received both on the site and privately in e-mail because they seemed to touch a chord. Many people shared with me that they had been dog owners since they were little girls or told me they collected prints of girls and dogs. Collette wrote that she has “one daughter and always several dogs.” Peggy told a whole story about begging for a new puppy after her dog had died. I am reposting it below. Many found the notecards poignant, whimsical, and innocent. I think the traditional image of a boy and his childhood dog conjures images of innocence as well, but there is something to be said for the sweet image of little girls and their dogs.
As many of you know, I frequently photograph young girls and focus on them in my collages. I believe that when you watch girls at play you often can catch glimpses of the women they will become. Perhaps you can see some of this in the way they interact with dogs as well. When my niece Catherine was a toddler, she used to cover my old pug Buffy up with towels or small blankets when she came to visit. She would kneel by her on the floor and delicately spread the piece of cloth over Buffy’s body, pulling it up to her neck and murmuring to her as she smoothed the wrinkles. I was surprised a few years later when my pug Vader had aged and was also feeble. My niece Tori, who was too little to have observed Catherine’s ministrations years earlier, repeated almost the identical ritual with Vader, frequently visiting and spreading a dishcloth or baby’s blanket over him, talking quietly as she did so. They both nurtured in a way I could imagine them doing in the future should they become mothers.
My nephews love my pugs as well. They visit and let them out back where they throw balls for them, toss sticks and play games of chase. They frolic and laugh, but there is a different sense of more intimate interplay between my nieces and the dogs. I have witnessed my niece Tori, “training” her family’s Akita Miley, instructing her to “sit” and demonstrating the maneuver with gentle authority. Again, I can envision her as she may be as a woman, strong and authoritative, but also clear and instructive. My 16-month-old niece Ellie met my brother’s boxer Sophie for the first time the other day and acted positively coy. My sister-in-law Leah was worried that Sophie might bother the toddler so she had locked her in her crate, but Ellie was nonplussed. She went over to the crate, stuck her face to the bars and said “Dawg, Dawg.” Later, when they let Sophie loose, my mother spied Ellie playing hide-and-seek with her. At turns coy and giggling, I could picture her years later as a teenager flirting and giving the boys a run for their money.
It seems to me that dogs, which so easily read and play off our emotions, have a lot to work with when it comes to girls and their rich emotional lives. This is not to make less of the emotions of boys, who I know have hidden depths. But so often the interplay between little boys and dogs seems so genuinely simple – happy lugs loping side-by-side through childhood. The relationship between girls and dogs seems to require more inference on the dog’s part. They seem to look to the little girl and ask – what does she need: a doll to dress, a baby to mother, a playmate to tease, a companion on which to practice her blossoming flirtations? The dog, an expert at reading emotions watches and assumes the proper role, the girl finds a willing partner to act out the faces she will one day wear. There are of course exceptions, instances when this isn’t true, but for many little girls, dogs were their first great audiences and mirrors – observing their emotions and reflecting back their many facets. My collages try to capture this complex interplay – a secret world that is a precursor to the world to come, where girl becomes woman and the playmate of childhood evolves into steadfast companion.
I’d love to hear from more from female readers on what dogs meant to them as children or to any little girls they know now? What is the role of dogs in the life of a little girl and do you think that manifests itself differently than it does with boys? Please leave a comment or email me at kimbi@pugsandpics.com and let me know.
And, below here’s Peggy’s wonderful tale:
I think that I am likely the most “original girl and a dog.” In 1970, when my parents decided to move to Wisconsin, from Illinois, I was 12 years old. My German Shepherd, Blackie, who my parents bought about 6 months before I was born, had died the day before we left WI. My mom was trying to herd 4 children into her 1966 Plymouth Fury to get us to Wisconsin. The eldest, me, would not leave….not until I got the promise of another puppy.
The conversation went something like this:
Mom: “Get in the car.” Peggy: “Nope. Not until you and Dad promise me another dog.” Mom: “You can have your own room.” Peggy: “I already get that. I’m not leaving without that promise.” Mom: “You can do WHATEVER you want to the walls. Get in the car.” Peggy: “I know that, too. Please promise me another dog.” Mom: “Get in the car, it is time to go.” Peggy: “Okay. But I promise you that if I do not get another dog, you will get no grandchildren.”
So…I got into the car and off we drove to another life in WI.
I find it very synchronistic that I would come to this website (probably from a link to something else) and see these very imaginative and amazing cards that truly speak to a young girl’s love for dogs and that age of innocence.
I am an avid thank-you note writer and I find that these would be an amazing addition to my collection of thank-you cards for those “special” friends that deserve a nice pick-me up.
Now….almost 43 years later, my mom’s home just sold which is most excellent, but the doggy wallpaper that I made them put up in my room still remains. The whimsical wallpaper with such phrases as “wanna go out?” “Let’s go to the vet” still remain in that lovely old Victorian home that I spent most of last year cleaning out for my mom.
While I never had any children, I did fulfill my dream of raising and showing dogs. With almost 30 years of loving and owning Gordon Setters, I still love life and fondly recall the joys of being a young girl and LOVING dogs.
Common Thread Give-a-Way
Time for the Great Common Thread Give-a-Way and this time it's me giving away a product! This month, fresh off the presses, are note cards based on my collages. I'm calling them Collages: Girls and Dogs note card set. It is a boxed set featuring eight note cards and envelopes. There are four different designs with two cards of each design. The cards are blank but there is story about each collage on the back of the card.
To qualify to win this boxed set just leave a comment on my blog www.pugsandpics.com. And, don't forget to visit the blogs of the other participating artists. Check out Jon Katz's photography and wonderful writing at www.bedlamfarm.com. Jane McMillan at Little House Home Arts always has some terrific pincushions available on her site, which I know would make an excellent Mother's Day present. Maria Wulf has introduced a new product over at Full Moon Fiber Art -- beautiful scarves made from vintage hankies and Nancy has some terrific jewelry showcased at Spinning Glass Studio.com.
Winner of the Give-a-Way will be announced on Thursday. And, please check out my other artwork in my gallery. Full size prints are available of the four collages printed on my note cards.
Writing Prompt: I Wish Her the Sky
I wish for her the wide-open sky
Someone with whom to soar
A place to safely fall
Wings to take her higher
A nesting place
No limits
A gentle wind on which to glide
A branch on which to perch
And sing
I wish for her to fly
Beyond our horizons
To discover her own heights
To go up, up, up,
Again, again, again
Up past the balloons she loves
Up until we are but a small blue ball
That makes her giggle
Up so that she plants her face to the sun
And feels its warmth and its light
And knows only happiness
And freedom
And potential
And unfettered joy!
Writing Prompt: I wish...
As Time Passes
The days will pass, time will move on and we will think we remember, but we won’t. Details drift away like tufts of dandelion in the wind. I will forget this first embrace of spring; the sun’s warm breath on my face. Although pictures may remind me, I will forget the Cindy Lou Who hair and the exact shade of blue of my niece Ellie’s smocked dress. I will feel the ghost of the moment when she peaked around the leg’s of her father’s chair at the Wayside Restaurant and waved at me with the widest gleaming smile and even wider brown eyes. I will remember what a beautiful baby she was, but these tiny moments when I sat cross-legged with her on the restaurant’s floor and pretended to drive to the circus will fade. While I may remember that Waffles’ once learned to escape the fence, I will forget the crystal clear trill of the bird in the tree as I walked the perimeter to see where my father had blocked Waffles’ egress. As age claims them, I will forget how easily Waffles and Alfie once moved, their respective haughty and lulling gaits, eventually giving way to stiffer and more jaunty walks.
As the days pass and time moves on, I will forget how shiny, bright and young we each were – my parents healthy and proud of their granddaughter, my brother’s family still so nascent and blossoming, me, filled with hope and expectation for the life that’s around the corner. We take with us the quick sketch, the outline, allowing the Kodachrome colors to fade. We forget unless we take the time to remember. But now, because I captured it here, perhaps I will preserve some of this sunshine to warm my heart. I will toddle into time’s stream like my niece on her newfound legs and leave these tiny breadcrumbs of memories to trace back to this day.