Hope 88

 Hope 88

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

On the last day of the year I went for a long walk into the woods all by myself and this is what I saw.

HOPE is here and there and everywhere in between.

Hope 87

 Hope 87

Oil on Wood

8"X6"

There is Light on the horizon.

As this year ends, and the new one begins, a little glimmer of light for everyone everywhere. That is my wish. 

Hope 86

 Hope 86

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Yesterday afternoon I jumped at the chance to follow my neighbor and her two small dogs out to the Marin Headlands to see the once in a lifetime Jupiter and Saturn event. A spectacular sunset greeted us as we walked away from our cars. It was unexpected and we stood in awe as it unfolded with more and more intensity setting the stage for the main event. As the sky darkened, suddenly there were the planets, as promised hanging in the sky just above us. Being there at dusk, in the brisk evening air, above the sea, watching the sky darken to reveal two planets converging was magical and memorable and made more so by sharing it with my dear friend.

Hope 85

 Hope 85

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Yesterday just as the sun was setting a neighbor came by on his afternoon walk with his baby. He had a bag of baby hand me down clothes to drop off.  Out on the street another neighbor was dropping off homemade macaroons while another was hunting for a coyote that had just been seen ambling by. I looked up and spotted the new moon. 

 There was hilarity and more human interaction than any of us had had all day. And that crescent moon hanging in the evening sky! It was a brief encounter, but it felt like a big celebration and it made my day.

Hope 84

 Hope 84

Oil on Wood

6"X8"

There is nothing like music to reach down deep into my soul and move me to tears. 

This Hanukah greeting, beautifully presented by a few members of the San Francisco Symphony came from a friend first thing this morning and has stayed with me all day.

Despite everything, the human spirit is alive and well in the world. 

Hope 83

 Hope 83

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

These December mornings and evenings have been oozing hope. Have they always been so dramatic and beautiful or are we just more appreciative and aware in our hunkered down lives?

Hope 82

 Hope 82

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

I went to my friend's house to pick up some yarn she left for me outside the front door and waded through a sea of red maple leaves. Red and pink and orange against a bright blue sky in the middle of the day, along with a garden glimpse of a great friend does wonders for the soul. 

Family Tree

 Hope 81

Family Tree

Oil on Wood

12"X12"

Seven months ago on May 18 this same tree brought me comfort. Little did we know what lay ahead. 

"Dramatic sky, wind, clouds, and intermittent rain didn't stop us from walking over the hill yesterday to the big oak under which our parents' ashes are scattered. It, too, survived the firestorm, and is a cherished link to our childhood on this land.

My daughter who is far away was thinking of oaks that very day. She tells me that oak trees are said to be passageways between the physical and spirit world.  And I think, anything is possible."

That was then.

Here we are. Life goes on despite everything crumbling down.

Hope 80

 Hope 80

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

The view from here. Big moon. Clear, crisp nights. Bright lights, big city. What a show. 

Hope 79

 Hope 79

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Sonoma vineyards are showing their colors.  This is what resilience looks like - A lesson for us mere mortals to keep the faith and spread the faith and hold on to moments like this when Nature is all around in all her glory just carrying on. 

Hope 78

 Hope 78

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

On a trip to the post office I found myself in a sea of Fall foliage. I looked up, and saw what looked like a Red-shouldered Hawk sitting on the electric wires. A gift from above. 

Giving Thanks for all the unexpected moments that lift us up.

Hope 77

 Hope 77

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

It is always reassuring to see Nature carrying on.

Hope 76

 Hope 76

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Sunday brunch time in Sonoma. With Covid cases soaring we are going to have to retreat to stricter roles of engagement for awhile. But I am feeling hopeful about the future. Sane government, clear guidelines, and vaccines on the way. We will be in each other's company again and when the time comes, how sweet it will be.

Hope 75

 Hope 75

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

This rose has been blooming on the deck since the election.

See Hope 70.

Today's welcome rain might end it's reign, but its presence over these days has been a comforting reminder of Nature's strength, beauty and perseverance. We will survive. And build a better world. Also. IT'S RAINING. If that isn't hopeful, I don't know what is.

Hope 74

 Hope 74

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

The days are definitely getting darker, and colder.

 But our air is crisp and clear and San Francisco glows in the dark. 

Hearing Eric Topol rave about the vaccine news on today's "In the Bubble with Andy Slavitt" 

filled me with hope and resolve. Despite the crazy in Washington, there is light at the end of this tunnel. 

Hope 73

Hope 73

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

My neighbor planted a sea of bright red poppies next to the curb. What a gift in this dark time to have a daily dose of brightness right outside the door. Seeing it lifts my spirits every time I walk by, a reminder that simple gestures create hope when one least expects it, which is why this one is for her.

Hope 72

Hope 72

Oil on Wood

8"X8"

Day at the beach.

Highly recommended.

Hope 71

Hope 71

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Having cake and eating it too. 

Celebrating this day.

How sweet it is!

Hope 70

 Hope 70

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

SOLD

Still holding on. 

VOTE

Time to re up this:

https://susanlandorkeegin.blogspot.com/search?q=obama

 

VOTE.

Hope 69

 Hope 69

Oil on Wood

12"X12"

A walk in the woods with my old friend on Thursday just might see me through the weekend.

Warm October light filtered through the eucalyptus, birds singing, and the comfort of old friendship is good medicine. Storing up goodness for whatever comes next.

Hope 68

 Hope 68

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

I started this day with a walk down Tennessee Valley Trail with a good friend.  That would have been enough to lift me up;  bright blue sky, crisp October air, walking and talking, peace and quiet, away from the world.

Then a red-tailed hawk appeared overhead. What a show! Could it be my mother blowing a kiss from the great beyond? 

As the day unfolded, the worries of the world seeped in and anxiety returned.

I am ending this day with this little homage to magical moments that still can be had, while listening to Bach's Morimur, Ciaccona for solo violin and four voices. Sublime.

There's Hope.

Hope 67

 Hope 67

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Sunday Cocktail hour outside with old friends, in their gorgeous garden, on the water, with Mount Tam as our backdrop. 

Conversation, laughter, beauty, and gratitude. 

This one's for them.

Calm Thoughts

 Calm Thoughts

Oil on Wood

24"X24"

Doing everything I can to remain calm.

This.

Getting out the Vote.

Bach and Mozart.

Hope 65

 Hope 65

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Tennessee Valley, Marin Headlands on an October morning, hiking with a friend, breathing deeply, taking it all in. 

Hope 64

 Hope 64

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Fresh Air. 

How sweet it is.

If only we can get some fresh air in Washington DC. If only. Here's hoping.

Hope 63

 Hope 63

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

And then the wind shifted west, the fog rolled in, the moon appeared and it was as if everything would be right with the world again.

Hope 62

 Hope 62

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

The fog rolled in and around San Francisco Bay all morning.  Light, fresh, clear and just the right amount of cool. I watched as if it were the greatest show on earth, storing up its goodness for when the next heat wave and firestorm come our way. I hope I never take fog for granted again. 

Hope 61

 Hope 61

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Yesterday the Bay Area returned to its old self.

Fires are still burning. People are suffering. And a wind shift could fill the air with smoke again. But for now, I am savoring every walk through my neighborhood, looking up at the sky and trying to store up this momentary sense of well being. I hope I never take  walking outside and breathing clean air for granted again.

Hope 60 

Oil on Wood

6"X8"

The smoke was clearing this morning so it was back to the redwoods with my dear friend today. What a difference clean air makes! I am positively drunk on air and friendship. Air is everything. So is friendship. Life isn't worth living without both of them.

Hope 59

 Hope 59

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

After a week, or has it been two, of smoke and ash there was actual blue sky overhead for a moment this morning.  

Polluted air is forecasted through Wednesday, but just seeing blue above made me feel hopeful for a moment. And that is something.

Patience is not one of my virtues.

Hope 58

 Hope 58

Oil on Wood

6"X8"

Remembering with relish a week ago walking in Mill Valley with a friend. The ancient Redwoods have seen it all before. They give me hope.

Hope 57

 Hope 57

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Fog brought welcome relief from the heat and smoke Monday evening. But then, today we woke up to dark orange skies that darkened as the day progressed. My heart aches for California. Making this little painting brought a little light to this otherwise dark afternoon. Holding on to hope. 

 Hope 56

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

A walk with friends on a clear day in August.

Simple pleasure that feels extravagant. 

A little infusion of hope that should keep me going awhile.

Hope 55

Hope 55

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

After dinner walk and talk. 

There's nothing like it.

Hope 54

Hope 54

Oil on Wood

6"X6:"

Life goes on, which is the very definition of HOPE. I am grateful for everything, past, present, and future. 

Hope 53

Hope 53

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

I love Poppies -- their tenacity, delicate strength, beauty, and the fact that they are self sufficient and thrive in poor soil. 

My father, who was born 107 years ago today, loved poppies too. We walked these same California hills winding our way through the golden grass and poppies.

In 2010 I remembered him with these words:

"Last week I spent a lot of time reading letters that my father wrote to his family who were still in Europe during World War II. They describe the excitement and struggle, optimism, and ingenuity that brought him to America where he landed in 1939, put down roots, and thrived for 60 years. It made me miss him more than usual. His vision, tenacity, and belief in his own intuition. How was it that he who claimed to feel perpetually insecure managed to create a life so brilliant, so imaginative, so spectacular that remnants of his creation are still visible around the world today?
Then this weekend in a sea of golden grass taller than my 5'4" there stood a vermilion red poppy. A seed, dropped by a bird, or blown by the wind just happened to land there and take hold and grow and bloom into fleeting magnificence."

I think of him often these days hoping I can summon some of his ingenuity, optimism and courage to meet this moment of turmoil. Happy birthday to the man who insisted, "there is always a way."

Hope 52

Hope 52

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

I am feeling better than ever today. It may have something to do with our belated big birthday gathering in my sister's secret garden yesterday evening. The birthday was big. The gathering was very small. I felt safe and loved and half my actual age. Given the circumstances, not even my whole family could be there. But we will do it again one day.

When darkness fell, we watched slides (yes, slides taken by my father long long ago, expertly edited by my daughter and put into a vintage carousel she procured, projected on a sheet strung between two photo light stands).  Seeing beautiful images of ourselves and our parents and grandparents and this land that I love was dreamy. I remembered how it felt to be 6 and 8 and 16 and 20. Even now I am moved to tears.

As for today's painting of a young bird perched at the top of a young tree on this magnificent land, life goes on, and I am filled with deep gratitude for the life I have been given and for the amazing people that have accompanied me on the journey. 

Hope 51

Hope 51

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

There is nothing like being with family, even with some distance and rules of engagement.

We are finding ways to be together and that has made all the difference in my state of mind.

Hope 50

Hope 50

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

What has changed? Time. Humans are adaptable. The disappointment of missed celebrations is just absorbed and replaced by awe on my evening walk.  My patch of wild Queen Ann's Lace is thriving at the front gate. All on their own, a myriad of tiny flowers unfurl into delicate globes, quiet little bursts of beauty rivaling any elaborate fireworks display that might have filled the sky but won't this July 4th.

Hope 49

Hope 49

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Today I am surprised by how I am becoming used to the upheaval and dire world situation.

We are finding ways to live with uncertainty.

A bouquet from my sister sits in a bright yellow pitcher from my daughter.

 Simple beauty and feeling loved. It is the bedrock of well being. 

Hope 48

Hope 48

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

I have been busy celebrating big birthdays and attending to the business of living but I haven't given up on Hope. This week my gardenia bloomed for the first time since 2017. Simply beautiful, that creamy white nestled in a sea of green. And the fragrance! I can't get enough of it.

Hope 47

Hope 47

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Like a dream, the day unfolded. Family, fresh air, conversation and kite flying in the warm afternoon breeze. 
And then they were gone, their presence fresh in our hearts and minds. 

Hope 46

Hope 46

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

A friend brought us a loaf of homemade bread yesterday. 

The staff of life. Beautiful and sustaining, wholesome, and good. I imagined her combining ingredients, kneading, rising, baking, and how the fragrance must have filled her kitchen. And then the thought to send it our way.  A simple gift imbued with patience and love. Connection made through a loaf of bread. Hope shows up when one least expects it.

Hope 45

Hope 45

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

These creatures are endlessly entertaining. I could watch them all day. Thank goodness for all God's creatures.

Hope 44

Hope 44

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

The moon rose last night momentarily quieting the panic that is all consuming.

Hope 43

Hope 43

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Shadows of weeds growing along the curb caught my eye as I walked with my friend this week. Unintentional art, found art, nature. Whatever it is, it stands out now, when time is standing still, and we crave some sign that there is still some beauty and order left in the world. It was a welcome respite from all that is wrong, to come upon and notice a simple visual surprise created by nothing more than weeds and sunshine in the middle of the day.

Hope 42

Hope 42

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

I woke up feeling low today. I wasn't sure what to paint or if I would even try. It is hot, and the news is sad and horrifying on every front.

Watching the lizards going about their little lives was reassuring.

And then I tuned into "A Conversation with President Obama: Reimagining Policing In the Wake of Continued Police Violence." It was just the infusion of inspiration and hope I needed to get through another day, seeing a glimmer of hope for the future.  

Hope 41

Hope 41

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

Seeing anything but darkness is getting harder by the hour, but seeing the first Queen Anne's Lace blooming by the front gate this morning did lift my spirits a little.  

Some say it is a weed. For others, including me and my friend, Ann, it is a favorite flower.

After admiring the upstarts (which by the way were started from seeds from my daughter's wedding bouquet 9 years ago, the flowers for which I picked along the highway) I started pulling star thistle which is what I call a real weed. Unlike the invisible Covid virus, prickly star thistle is an enemy we can see and feel. Pulling it out of the ground is satisfying, if endless, work, providing a momentary illusion of control while the world falls into chaos around us.

Hope 40

Hope 40

Oil on Wood

6"X6"

The huge rabbits that inhabit our land are always on the run. I guess they are foraging for food and avoiding predators, real and imagined, which is what I've been doing lately as well.  Only she does it without the angst that I have brought to our current situation. 

The constant awareness of danger that lurks who knows where is wearing me down. The invisible enemy is always on my mind. With so many conflicting instructions for staying safe, the threat of becoming infected or equally horrifying, infecting someone else is ever present. Fear is not good for one's well being.

As I happened upon this rabbit she stopped in her tracks, looking like a chocolate Easter bunny, hoping, I guess, that I wouldn't notice her presence.

When I got too close, she took off, safe for another day. That's her life and she does it well. 

Today in the pursuit of reducing angst,  I confided in dear friends, watched the wildlife cope with life, and painted through the afternoon. 

Safe for another day.