Edmund Blair Leighton has to be one of my most favorite artists.
I am sure you can see why.
Have a wonderful day.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
A Few Paintings by Edmund Blair Leighton
Edmund Blair Leighton has to be one of my most favorite artists.
I am sure you can see why.
Have a wonderful day.
Who's Woods These Are...
...I think I know...
...They are mine...
..And there was snow.
Forgive the pathetic rhyming.
The woods are mine. And there was snow
Well, snow for where I live.
After that great, poetical post about how we never got snow...
...we got snow.
Funny how that works.
There was only a little, and it is disappearing fast. But It was nice to see.
I took all of these pictures in our woods.
Have a wonderful day!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Black Flows the Forest River
I drew this picture some time ago. Kae scanned it and I put it on my blog to do a post of it and then I forgot about it. I just now saw it again and decided I should publish it.
It is called, Black Flows the Forest River. I know, I know: It a little stream, not a river. But when Rhett and Dante (The couple in the picture.) go down into the forest, and lean against the tree, Rhett sings to Dante a song called Black Flows the Forest River. See, while I was working on the picture I was inspired by it to write a poem.
I went to the forest
To see my maiden, lovely and fair
Her hair flows about her face
As sunbeams upon the air
And there I sang, I sang a song
Black flows the Forest River
The river ever long
Black flows the
Forest River
Golden flows my
Maiden's hair
Have a wonderful day!
Robin Hood
Robin Hood, yes, Robin Hood. That is where it really all began. "It" being all of these things that I like that you see on my blog: the swords, the bows, the green, the brown, the capes, the knights, the ladies, the castles and the rivers. Now days, I like these things for slightly different reasons, but the seed that grew was planted years ago by Robin Hood.
I still remember when I first found out about Robin and I am very ashamed to say that it was through the, ahem, animated "Robin Hood". We can't all be perfect. It was not long, though, before I learned about the real Robin Hood. I read every Robin Hood book I could get on. I was quite young in those days, still in that glorious stage of being able to play, so it was a favorite pastime of mine to play Robin Hood with Kae. Well, that is, if she was maybe, perhaps, willing to consent to stoup to the activity. I was Robin. She was every one else. And the beloved playhouse was the "Blue Boar Inn".
It always did, and still does, make me very sad that Robin always dies in the end. Why couldn't he just settle down and live a long happy life and no one ever know when exactly it was that he died peacefully of old age. But, alas, it could not be so. Or at least he could have died in battle, or something.
This old "robbing the rich to give to the poor," I don't really like that line so often associated with this great man. To me, and perhaps me alone, it doesn't seem right some how. He took from wealthy, gluttonous, slimebag aristocrats the money which they had wrongly obtained (generally by way over taxing) from the peasantry and he returned it to the starving innocent families. Therefore, I find the phrase "robbing the rich to give to the poor" totally inadequate and somewhat deceiving.
I have always loved Robin Hood, always gotten excited when I here him mentioned, always gotten mad when they make some new warpation of him (i.e. movie/TV show) and I always shall, I mean Cate Blanchit as Maid Marian? Old enough to be her mother. (All due respect.) Anyhow. All movies and TV shows aren't bad though: the Earl Flynn movie is good and the Richard Greene TV show (from the 50s) is very good.
I guess the really neat thing about Robin is that he always did what he knew was right no mater what would befall him because of it. In the absence of the King he and his men looked after the people the best they knew how and all the while there lives being risked, constantly being hunted by treachery claiming to be justice, they were sort of a Medieval A-Team. That's not what I meant to say but I guess it is true.
There have always been Robin Hoods and maybe there always will be. They seldom have the exact plots or even very similar plots, it is the caricature of the person. These people are often fictional, but I am sure there have been a few real life Robin Hoods.
I still remember when I first found out about Robin and I am very ashamed to say that it was through the, ahem, animated "Robin Hood". We can't all be perfect. It was not long, though, before I learned about the real Robin Hood. I read every Robin Hood book I could get on. I was quite young in those days, still in that glorious stage of being able to play, so it was a favorite pastime of mine to play Robin Hood with Kae. Well, that is, if she was maybe, perhaps, willing to consent to stoup to the activity. I was Robin. She was every one else. And the beloved playhouse was the "Blue Boar Inn".
It always did, and still does, make me very sad that Robin always dies in the end. Why couldn't he just settle down and live a long happy life and no one ever know when exactly it was that he died peacefully of old age. But, alas, it could not be so. Or at least he could have died in battle, or something.
This old "robbing the rich to give to the poor," I don't really like that line so often associated with this great man. To me, and perhaps me alone, it doesn't seem right some how. He took from wealthy, gluttonous, slimebag aristocrats the money which they had wrongly obtained (generally by way over taxing) from the peasantry and he returned it to the starving innocent families. Therefore, I find the phrase "robbing the rich to give to the poor" totally inadequate and somewhat deceiving.
I have always loved Robin Hood, always gotten excited when I here him mentioned, always gotten mad when they make some new warpation of him (i.e. movie/TV show) and I always shall, I mean Cate Blanchit as Maid Marian? Old enough to be her mother. (All due respect.) Anyhow. All movies and TV shows aren't bad though: the Earl Flynn movie is good and the Richard Greene TV show (from the 50s) is very good.
I guess the really neat thing about Robin is that he always did what he knew was right no mater what would befall him because of it. In the absence of the King he and his men looked after the people the best they knew how and all the while there lives being risked, constantly being hunted by treachery claiming to be justice, they were sort of a Medieval A-Team. That's not what I meant to say but I guess it is true.
There have always been Robin Hoods and maybe there always will be. They seldom have the exact plots or even very similar plots, it is the caricature of the person. These people are often fictional, but I am sure there have been a few real life Robin Hoods.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Today..
Today was the first day of December. And it seemed like it. It was cold and windy. The sky was clear, but not like it is clear in the Summer, Spring, and Fall. In the Winter, the clear sky is Cruel and and bitter.
For some, Winter is sunny and a bit cooler than usual. Others, rainy. And for some, it is a glorious winter-wonderland of lush snow, dear falling flurries, skiing and ice-skating.
But not here.
Here, Winter is not a nice thing. Winter is trees, striped of glory. Winter is my mother depressed. Winter is ground that is ether frozen so hard it it hurts to walk on, or defrosted and mushy and muddy. Winter is pet water dishes with nothing in then but a solid chunk of ice. Winter is all lovely thing that grow, gone. They are not ''sleeping under a blanket of snow,'' they are cold and dead. Winter does not bring out my romantic side, as you can see. And today, to me, was the first day of Winter. It seemed as though everything that had been holding on to the last bit of Autumn it could salvage, gave up. Winter has come.
So I stayed inside.
Mariana, by Henrietta Rae
For some, Winter is sunny and a bit cooler than usual. Others, rainy. And for some, it is a glorious winter-wonderland of lush snow, dear falling flurries, skiing and ice-skating.
But not here.
Here, Winter is not a nice thing. Winter is trees, striped of glory. Winter is my mother depressed. Winter is ground that is ether frozen so hard it it hurts to walk on, or defrosted and mushy and muddy. Winter is pet water dishes with nothing in then but a solid chunk of ice. Winter is all lovely thing that grow, gone. They are not ''sleeping under a blanket of snow,'' they are cold and dead. Winter does not bring out my romantic side, as you can see. And today, to me, was the first day of Winter. It seemed as though everything that had been holding on to the last bit of Autumn it could salvage, gave up. Winter has come.
So I stayed inside.
Mariana, by Henrietta Rae
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