The Beauty of the Snow - a poem by me

The Beauty of the Snow

I wake in darkness. Rise.

The world tied with a sugared bow

as promised, I now gaze upon

the beauty of the snow.

It sparkles, gleams; it beckons.

“Test my drifts, and watch me blow.

I am the winter’s blanket;

a glory named the snow.”

I reach for sound, for anything;

for birds, for cars, but no.

A muffled world encompassed in 

the silence of the snow.

Not everyone is happy.

I must hide my thoughts, and so

I pour hot chocolate, make some toast,

and celebrate the snow.

Shops close and flights delay.

Our schedules lose accustomed flow.

Ashamed, (I’m such a child at heart!)

I wish for deeper snow.

Beauty, wonder, danger?

Do you see it friend or foe?

No mind. We are but witnesses

to power of the snow.

As always, thanks for stopping by!

September 2025

 die-cuts, oil painting, and digital

This is my favorite piece in my 2025 calendar. I don't do collages. I am easily overwhelmed, and as I've said hundreds of times, one of my weaknesses is my inability to just play. Well, here I played! I used pretty paper, my Tim Holtz die-cuts, and a small oil painting of an hour glass that I had done. I took photos and put all the different elements into Procreate. Then, I played with composition, layers of transparency, etc. I'm pretty proud of it. 

Thanks for stopping by!

The First Pearl - by Tracy Onoz

 

Long, long ago, in the shallows of a vast ocean, a beam of light slipped in through the crack of an oyster’s shell, and tickled his eyelashes. He awoke with a start, and giggled.

The little oyster peered up through the dark water, to a beautiful face floating among the stars. 

He called to the old oyster beside him. “Hey! Have you seen the moon tonight?”

“I see her every night,” grumped his neighbor.

“But tonight she’s completely round! Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Go back to sleep!”

The little oyster was too excited to sleep. He called to his friend the seahorse.

“Hey! Isn’t the moon beautiful tonight?”

“Sure. I guess so,” said the seahorse.

“She does so much for us. I want to do something nice for her. I want to be her friend.” 

The seahorse scoffed. “She travels the world, and can be friends with anyone. Why would she want to be friends with an oyster?”

The little oyster pulled his shell closed. THUNK! What was wrong with oysters?

As he sat inside, wondering what to do, he picked off a grain of sand that had been irritating the sensitive folds of his skin. He wrapped it in some of the lining from the inside of his shell. It looked just like a teensy moon! That gave him an idea.

“Hey!” he shouted to his neighbor again. ”Look at this!”

“What is it now?”

“I’ve made a gift for the moon!”

“A grain of sand?”

“More than that. I wrapped it in the lining from my shell, and it looks just like her!”

“Hmmph!" grouched his neighbor. "Why would she want something so small and worthless?”

The little oyster again shut his shell. SLAM!  

Months passed as he worked to make his gift bigger and bigger. In the meantime, he continued to watch the moon. She was always changing. Some nights she was so thin she disappeared completely. Other nights she was round and lit up the whole sky.

Though she was busy pulling the great ocean waters in and out from the shore, she never

failed to notice him. Sometimes she would even play peek-a-boo with him among the

clouds.

After three years the gift had reached a size that the oyster was happy with. He was ready

to present it to her and waited for the seahorse to swim by.  

“Hey!” he called, “I need someone to take this to the moon!”

The seahorse swam closer and gasped. “It’s beautiful! But I cannot swim to the moon.”

Hmmmm. The little oyster hadn’t thought of that.

“But . . . maybe I can give it to a sea star to place on the shore. It will glow against the dark

sand tonight and I’m sure she’ll notice it.”

“Oh! Thank you!” said the oyster.

He handed the beautiful pearl over to the seahorse and pulled his shell closed. Click.  

That evening a beam of light slipped in through the crack of his shell and tickled his

eyelashes. He heard a knock. He opened his shell to find the seahorse and the sea star

waiting impatiently outside. 

“The moon is weeping and she wants to speak to you!” they exclaimed.

Had he somehow offended her?

 

The sea star picked him gently up in two of his arms and the three of them rose to the

surface.

Air washed over them as they broke the surface and looked up at the moon through her

tears. 

She spoke. “My dear little friend, no one has ever given me a gift before.”

“Do you hate it?” asked the oyster.

“Of course not. These are happy tears. I wanted to thank you.”

The moon had called him her friend. A giant bubble of happiness rose in his heart. He was

 just a tiny creature in a vast ocean, but he had done something very big.

To this day, oysters pay tribute to the moon by making beautiful pearls. If you’re outside 

some night and feel raindrops, though the moon shines bright, make a wish. That is the

moon sharing her happiness with you.

 THE END

    

     I hope you enjoyed my story. I've been meaning to post it for quite a while, and I thought that the week leading up to a total solar eclipse would be an appropriate time. The moon has a very important job to do on April 8th: entertain the masses!

     I live in the path of totality, so I'll have a once in a lifetime opportunity of experiencing it in my own backyard. 

     P.S. Have you ever experienced rain while the moon was shining? I remember experiencing it once, but it was before I wrote the first draft of "The First Pearl" (more than 25 years ago). It would be like experiencing rain while the sun is shining which does happen occasionally.

Thanks for stopping by!

And Then Like Magic, 2024 Appeared

I managed to get another calendar done this year, and this is my grandson, Tux- Mr. January.

I dropped the oil portrait I had done of him this summer into Procreate and, ABRACADABRA, here he is.

I had one heck of a 2023! So many big events, blessings, and wonderful moments. I have a feeling that 2024 is going to be another huge year. 

I wish you all health and happiness in the year ahead.

Thanks for stopping by!

Santa Claus Is Coming

"Waiting for Santa" 8x10 oil painting

I have waited a long time to share this one! The idea came to me last December,

and I finished it early in the spring. 

Novan loves coming to Grandma and Abuelo's house and watching out the front door.

I slipped that photo into Procreate and did this.

This is the bottom layer in acrylics.

This step is after getting the oil paint on there. I still had some refining to do,

including Santa and the starry night sky.

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas

and Happy Holiday Season!

Thanks for stopping by!

 

My Expensive Bottle Opener - watercolor

6"x9" watercolor

Whatnots, knick knacks, tchotchkes - whatever you call them, they have often worked their way into our hearts as well as onto our shelves. They hold memories.

This cast iron bottle opener belonged to my grandparents. It saw a lot of use in the days when it was a necessity for getting into your bottle of pop (or soda if you prefer). When I was young, it was a dark, mustard-yellow with dull, dark, red and green pops of color on its wings, etc. By the time I was in my 20s the opener wasn't seeing much use, and a lot of the paint had worn off.  Poor, ugly, neglected little thing.

I had the bright idea of giving it a facelift. I wanted it to be a Christmas surprise for my grandparents but. . .  how was I going to smuggle it out of their house? What if I was caught "stealing"? Would they believe me when I told them what I had planned? Would they act like they believed me, yet at the same time fear I was an up and coming kleptomaniac?

I enlisted my dad's help. It was his parents after all. I explained my intentions and gave him a wink as I slipped it into my purse. We then behaved nonchalantly like all good crime families do.

However, as we were leaving the house that evening, my grandma noticed its absence. She began to ask about it and look for it in earnest. My dad and I looked guiltily at each other and, as he didn't really want to see his mother in torment, he stepped back into the house, said "don't worry about the bird," and stepped back out. I've always wondered what they made of that comment.

I painted it up as you see above, and they were very happy at Christmastime.

Several years later, after they had both passed, the bottle opener ended up in a box of miscellaneous items for auction. I wanted that bird. I ended up bidding against a person who must have been a collector of some sort. It was a bidding battle. He was not going to walk away with my prize! 

Thankfully, he bowed out at $30. Who knows how far I would have gone. What would I have given? I do remember family members circling my children protectively just in case the klepto had come entirely unglued.

The parrot sits in my kitchen window to this day, and after 30 years I'm noticing that it needs another facelift. I promise to share the results here with you.

A few steps in the process:

 

Behind the Purple Door

 Watercolor - approx.  9 x 12"

My step-daughter and her husband travel. They're great at it. They love it. And they have a website where you can find her brilliant (and funny) articles on travel, along with amazing photos taken by both herself and her crazy-talented, photographer-husband. It's called Manifesting Travel. Please give it a click and check it out!

My jaw dropped when I saw this door it! (Look for it on their website. It was from their recent trip to London) I had to paint it! And write a poem! Haha! Here it is:

Behind the Purple Door 

Passing down a street unknown,

I spied a purple door

with polished brass, and marble steps

that lead to something . . . more.

But more of what? I asked myself.

Behind that hue sublime,

are all belongings dipped in gold?

To live, have they more time?

Are people here, in fancy clothes,

who sip their fancy tea,

with pinkies out, and elbows in,

much happier than me?

Their tablecloth so elegant

and made of lace so fine.

Mine’s old and from my mother,

with stains of tea and wine.

Twas handed down, like all good stuff,

and treasured all the more.

Do items have that kind of worth

behind the purple door?

Do candles here burn brighter?

Are the residents more kind?

Are they smarter, stronger, wiser?

Can they always speak their mind?

And those who live behind the door,

do all their problems cease?

They have wealth, but do they have

a deeper sense of peace?

Are their lives here that much better?

They have etiquettes and rules.

Their belongings may be shiny,

but the shine, it only fools

us into thinking we need more,

when truly we are fine.

And if I had to choose a door,

thank you, I’ll choose mine.

I like sharing my process, so here it is in a few steps:

I sketched the door, applied the masking fluid to the areas I wanted to remain white, 

and started the first layer of paint.

This is the fun part - watching the purple door pop off the page.

Getting more of the detail done.

Finished watercolor, before a bit of digital tweaking.

As always, thanks for stopping by!