Shelter

Digital piece, done in Procreate

I wanted to pick a nice, rainy, spring day to share this one, and that's what we have here in Greenville, Ohio.

Who do you identify with? The baby nestled under its mother's wing? Or the one doing the sheltering? 

I think I'm a little of both. I'd do anything to shelter my kids - to keep them safe. My son is 6'5" and we would look ridiculous in a pose like this, but I'm sure you understand the sentiment. I do like taking care of people.

I also like the idea of being taken care of by my mother, an adult who's been adulting longer than I have, but, though she loves me, my mom has made it quite clear to my husband that if he tries to return me, she doesn't want me back. That's my mama for ya! Gotta love her.

Maybe we all should be both. Look after each other when we can, seek help when we need. Weather life's storms together. Be kind.

I did this piece originally back in 2016. It was a prompt back in the good ol' Illustration Friday days.  Click here to have a peek. It's been a work in progress on my iPad for a few years now. I'm finally getting around to polishing off a few of those miscellaneous items and just callin' 'em done.

Wherever you are, whether it's raining or not. Have a wonderful day and know that, as a reward for stopping by my blog, I am cyber-sheltering you in my heart. 

Little Bunny-Girl Whatnot

I don't have a big backstory on this beautiful girl except to say that she sat on my dresser from the time I was a toddler, and she used to have a brother (I think?). I'm not sure what happened to him but I can tell you that they were both covered in a soft layer of white glitter which, over the years, became quite dingy. 

I came across her among my mom's things and asked if she could be returned to me. She is now polished to a smooth shine and stands (or sits) about three inches high, occupying a place on my shelf, as well as in my heart, doing her job, as all good whatnots do. 

This first watercolor was what I did when inspiration struck. I just felt like doing something. Anything. 

I was itchy to paint and didn't have a grand idea at the moment, so I set her up, did a quick sketch of her outline, and painted away.

 

I liked the way she turned out, but the proportions were off from the original knickknack. I started over with a bit more patience on a 5 x 7 piece of textured gesso board. Aqua-board may have been a better choice but I didn't have any. The image below is after the sketch, laying down masking fluid in highlight areas, and painting the background. 

Here's another step between. The background is lighter simply because it had dried.

Below is the finished watercolor. I applied a couple more layers of paint to the background to darken it back up. Also, I sprayed varnish on it, which made the colors bolder. 

Note: I don't think it is a common thing to spray varnish on a watercolor. They are usually framed under glass and no protection like that is even necessary. I thought if I gave the varnish a try, in order to protect her, I could just add a frame like I would to a small oil painting. It has worked so far, but if you choose to do that, I'll deny having recommended it! ;)

She was so cute! I was also, however, in the mood to play on my iPad in Procreate. I dropped the watercolor image in there and, with the "old brush" blending tool, I just worked over her surface,  carefully smoothing everything out. 

AH! Now I could play better with highlights and a few sparkles. (I love my sparkles). 

I end with the image at the top of the page.

Thanks, as always, 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!

Watercolor - Teacup

 I have always loved works of art in watercolor but haven't worked with it much myself. 

This year I've made up my mind to try to work more in this medium. 

It takes more patience: (Patience is something I have been greatly lacking lately in my work) It needs to be planned a bit more ahead of time - Where are the highlights going to be? Protect those areas. Where do you want the paint to flow and have its own fun? 

It takes more faith: that the drip and blobs will dry to satisfaction. 

It takes practice: Wet into wet, dry over dry. 

There are no undo buttons. I can't paint over mistakes like I can with oils. (I make a lot of mistakes)

I didn't begin this piece very carefully. I just sketched it up (with my reference photo) and dug right in. Mistakes were made. I cheated (if you want to call it that), and when it was complete, I put it into my digital app, Procreate, and fixed a couple things. Below is the process to where it ended up before I "cheated". 

     This bottom one is what the actual, physical watercolor looks like. My ellipse is skewed, and I didn't plan well for the highlights. For my own purposes, like putting my art here on my blog, or uploading the image to my yearly calendar, it works to do both the physical watercolor, and the digital fixes and enhancements.

     I'm not doing very many things anymore with the end purpose of framing and hanging on a wall. But, having said that, I'm aiming to actually have a watercolor or two, done this year, that are frame worthy. 

Willow House Chapter 28

For chapter one click here

The Horses Aren’t Busy Tonight, So . . .

     

    

      “Oh my gosh, Ella! That was the most amazing day ever!”

     “Yeah,” is all I manage to say. I’m still kind of in shock and haven’t been talking much.

     Daleni and I are curled up on our sleeping bags under my open bedroom window. The curtains are pushed all the way back so that we can watch the stars as we listen to the crickets. And yes, if you’re wondering, the air conditioning is on, but my door is shut, and I’ve placed a rolled up bath towel across the bottom to keep my mom’s money from flying out into the warm, night air.

     “I wish you had told me everything from the beginning,” she says. “I’m still a little mad.”

     “I’m so sorry, Daleni! There were so many weird things happening. I didn’t even know how to explain it all.”

     “I get it, but let’s pinky swear to always tell each other the truth.”

     She holds out her pinky, and I curl mine around hers. “I swear,” I say.

     I lay back on my pillow, glad that the whole mess is behind me.

     “Que pases buenas noches, Ella.”

     “Good night to you too, Daleni.”

     I roll away from her onto my side. I start thinking back on the day, all the crazy things that happened, and how happy I am with the way it all turned out. I’m feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. There are still a few mysteries to be solved, but they can wait. I still have most of the summer ahead of me.

     “What is that noise?” Daleni asks. She’s up and on her knees, peering out the window. I pull myself up beside her in a flash. 

     “Is that what I think it is?” she whispers.

     “Dios mío!” I say.

      A black, Cinderella carriage is coming down my street.

     “Come on!” I shout.

     I take her hand, kick the bath towel out of the way, and together we practically fly down the stairs. We pause before opening the front door. We need to take a moment. She nods her head. I nod my head. I open the door.

     The carriage has pulled to the curb, directly in front of my house. This time the fairytale feeling doesn’t bother me. Four of the tallest, blackest horses I’ve ever seen are standing in front of it. They have long flowing manes and long flowing tails. They stamp their feet and toss their heads, ready to get on with it.

     “Come along, girls!” Mrs. H. shouts from the driver’s seat.

     “Go on, Sweetheart,” my mom says from behind us. “Mrs. Hallovich wanted this to be a surprise.”

     I run to my mom and throw my arms around her. Dad is standing at the foot of the stairs with Tommy in his arms. Tommy reaches for me.

     “Can Tommy come too?” I ask.

     “That’s the plan,” Mom says.

     Mom and Dad watch from the front porch as the three of us scurry down the walkway to our ride. 

      Mrs. H. hops down from the driver’s seat and opens the carriage door. “Up you go, ladies,” she says. Then, “not so fast, Mister!” she adds. I think for a moment that she doesn’t want Tommy to go. It’ll break his little heart. It’ll break my little heart. “You’re riding up front with me. I need help controlling these horses.”

     “Vroom-vroom,” Tommy says.

     She and Tommy climb up into the driver’s seat and Mrs. H. turns to peek at us through the front window. “Comfy?” She asks.

     “This is great!” I say.

     Mrs. H. chuckles. We hear Tommy making more vroom-vroom noises as we take off. Daleni and I sit next to each other in the seat that faces forward like a couple of princesses in pajamas. The horses are trotting down the road like they own the place. Daleni leans away from me and puts her head out of her side window. I do the same on the other side. The night air blows in my face. A million stars are out. This is the life.

     Before I know it, we’re coming to a stop. I know exactly where we are.

     “I’ll go to the door,” I say to Mrs. H.

     “No need. Here she comes.”

     Mandy is walking down her front porch steps wearing her pajamas too. “Have fun, Sweetheart!” her mom is calling to her. 

     “Did you plan this with her mom too?” I ask Mrs.H. 

     “We had a little chat, yes.”

     “Hey, Mandy!” Daleni says.

     “Hey, Daleni! Hey, Ella!” Mandy plops down in the seat across from us. She’s excited too. “I can’t believe this. This is amazing!” 

     Mandy sticks her head out of her window like us and then we’re traveling down the road, harnesses jangling, hooves clip-clopping, having no idea where we’re going, but happy to be on our way.

     After a couple more minutes we’re slowing down and pulling over in front of another house. The front porch light is on. Melanie and her dad are on the porch swing expecting us. In less than a minute she’s climbing up in back and she gives me a high five and sits across from me. If I’m being honest (and I always try to be honest), things are looking better for Melanie and me.

     “Hi, guys!” she says.

     “Hi, Melanie!” we all say back. 

    The carriage starts to move. 

     “Let’s put our heads back out of the windows!” Mandy says. 

     So we do. Four windows, four heads hanging out, one Mrs. Hallovich, one Tommy, four black stallions, and a billion stars.

     We ride through the night. We pass Roy’s, where we’ve all bought candy.  Even Mrs. Hallovich, who bought her candy there about 100 years ago.

     Much later, Mrs. Hallovich returns the M&Ms to their homes. Daleni and I are back in my room and she’s already asleep beside me. I still can’t believe Mrs. H. is really Grandma Hallovich. I don’t know what we’re going to come up with to tell my parents. There’s no way they’ll believe everything that’s happened. Adults can be funny about things like that. Don’t you think?

     I’m so wired up, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until Tuesday. I reach under my bed to pull out my diary. I grab a pen and I’m just about to start writing about everything that’s happened when I change my mind. I put the diary back. I pull out the midnight blue journal, with silver stars, that belonged to my great-great-great grandpa William. A good story is hard to keep in when it just wants to get out and live. I start writing: 

     I’m way too old for a babysitter . . .

The End

I hope you've enjoyed the book. Thanks for reading!