BIRD WATCHING: More Sightings

Nichols Canyon is a wonderful place to bird watch at this time of year.  I take the baby for a long walk in her pram and with it go keen eyes and binoculars.  Today I got:

Bullocks Oriole

Phainopepla

Purple finch, Grey-headed junco (Williams, AZ)

ART: Vincent Van Gogh

A Van Gogh watercolor newly acquired by the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam.  I do love this subtle tonal quality, the dramatic perspective - the stunted damaged tree, Van Gogh’s soul.  He is walking towards us, holding something in his hand, isn’t that him? He walks towards us forever, holding his palette in his hand, ready to give his greatest gift.

BIRD WATCHING/BIRD ARTIST Genevieve Jones

OAK TITMOUSE

What a thrill to see this new bird in Nichols Canyon on a walk 

CEDAR WAXWING 

I saw two of these in a high far tree - thank goodness for my excellent field glasses. 

 Genevieve Jones was a young woman jilted by her suitor in Ohio in 1876.  Inspired by Audubon, she began drawing birds' nests, because Audubon had drawn no nests.  When she died suddenly of typhoid, her family completed the work and published Illustrations of the Birds' Nests of Ohio.

I think these beautiful, poignant.  She never married and had her own nest, so she painted them until she died much too soon, a quiet unrecognized artists' angel.

BOOK REVIEW: THE Lifeboat, by Charlotte Rogan

Musical chairs lifeboat lottery - too many people on board, so who goes?  Examines the willingness to murder under duress, the peculiar ethical dilemmas the survivors face, and the consequences of their difficult choices.

The anti-hero, Grace Winter, is a chilling individual, taking actions, making choices to rise from poverty to become rich and independent, matter not the cost.

On the overcrowded lifeboat, she manipulates situations to prevent herself from being one of those chosen to thrown overboard.  Later she is put on trial for this, and the verdict is the conclusion of the novel.  

The description of the sea in the book is compelling, the atmosphere desolate.  A first novel, I thought this quite fine.

DIARY ENTRY: At age 66

Painting in Eaton Canyon

Et cum spirtu tuo.

Yesterday I was 66 - the 65th milestone year is over.  A lovely day Monday taking a color theory workshop in beautiful Eaton Canyon.   It gets a bit more rain and wildflowers are blooming, and quail call.  The teacher says one sees colors best outdoors in filtered or overcast light, and I do hope it assists my perception.  I am distracted by the beauty, yearn to get up and hike instead of struggling to master the complexities of color, to unlock from those pigments their possibilities.

Yesterday we marked my day in a low-key.  My husband and I went to Latin Mass and heard La Schola sing, at beautiful St. Thomas church.  Incense, late afternoon golden sunlight, the old Latin phrases of devotion from my childhood and history, a homily about being available to choose to accept God’s grace in one’s life, and what it will require.  Dinner at a lovely Indian restaurant,  the hub let looking quite handsome. 

The night before I went to dinner and to see the Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet at UCLA.  A provocative evening of contemporary dance works by newer choreographers. Sunday we had a family dinner with the grandchildren, the 6-year old crawling onto my lap and playing silly games with me. My son and his fiancé came, too, and I was so glad to see them.  She is a lovely person, quiet, low-key, self-possessed, and the grandchildren take to her easily as she slips into the family routine.  

The baby is working her charms on Grampy, and he on her.  He carries her around and it’s very cute, seeing him befriend her.  He took the boys on a walk instead of going to the gym.  

The baby lets me give her water from a cup, eagerly drinking.  She wants to take liquid like this, I think, because she watches me drink from my Coke can and wants to try it.  She has a ready smile and alert, watchful quiet nature.

The two boys tussle like puppies, and we are all happy.