Monday, December 16, 2013

The Bridge by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sommeraften ved Skagens strand, P.S. Kroyer, 1899. Wikimedia Commons.

The Bridge

I stood on the bridge at midnight,
   As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o'er the city,
   Behind the dark church-tower.   

I saw her bright reflection
   In the waters under me,
Like a golden goblet falling
   And sinking into the sea.   

And far in the hazy distance
   Of that lovely night in June,
The blaze of the flaming furnace
   Gleamed redder than the moon.   

Among the long, black rafters
   The wavering shadows lay,
And the current that came from the ocean
   Seemed to lift and bear them away;   

As, sweeping and eddying through them,
   Rose the belated tide,
And, streaming into the moonlight,
   The seaweed floated wide.   

And like those waters rushing
   Among the wooden piers,
A flood of thoughts came o’er me
   That filled my eyes with tears.   

How often, O, how often,
   In the days that had gone by,
I had stood on that bridge at midnight
   And gazed on that wave and sky!   

How often, O, how often,
   I had wished that the ebbing tide
Would bear me away on its bosom
   O’er the ocean wild and wide!   

For my heart was hot and restless,
   And my life was full of care,
And the burden laid upon me
   Seemed greater than I could bear.   

But now it has fallen from me,
   It is buried in the sea;
And only the sorrow of others
   Throws its shadow over me.   

Yet whenever I cross the river
   On its bridge with wooden piers,
Like the odor of brine from the ocean
   Comes the thought of other years.   

And I think how many thousands
   Of care-encumbered men,
Each bearing his burden of sorrow,
   Have crossed the bridge since then.   

I see the long procession
   Still passing to and fro,
The young heart hot and restless,
   And the old subdued and slow!   

And forever and forever,
   As long as the river flows,
As long as the heart has passions,
   As long as life has woes;   

The moon and its broken reflection
   And its shadows shall appear,
As the symbol of love in heaven,
   And its wavering image here.

Monday, December 9, 2013

The Frost Queen in the Marsh

The frost queen visited my marshes one night. As soon as the sun's rays hit her handiwork, it began to disappear.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Fascinating Faces

There are quite a few colorized historical photos going around lately, some of them fascinating. In particular, this one stuck me. What a fascinating face. When I'm old, I hope my face is half as intriguing as this man, who happens to be Walt Whitman.

Colored by Dana Keller, found on

Monday, November 18, 2013

It's a Porcupine Day

Sometimes, I just feel like a porcupine; I may look all laid back and cute... but I'm prickly, and you'd better not get too close.

You can get your hands on this cute little guy (ouch!) in my Etsy shop:

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Mushrooms and Leaves

I'm still painting mushrooms and leaves. I went for a very long ramble in my woods a few days ago and came home with mushrooms piled atop my ancient volume of Lowell's poems that I had taken with me. I painted several of them, unable to resist their delicacy and lovely colors. Sadly, nearly all the purple asters seems to be gone.

All of these are available in my Etsy shop,

Monday, November 4, 2013

Sunday, November 3, 2013

The Burning In My Heart: Autumn Leaves and Wild Winds

Looking at the autumn leaves blazing with fire on the trees, I can feel their light pouring into my soul and lighting me on fire from within. It's almost too much to bear to look at them for long, and yet I am a glutton for the beauty. The wind just fans the flames higher.

all photos by Grace Robert

Monday, October 21, 2013

Caught in Autumn's Web: Spiderwebs in the Marshes

All photos in this post by me.
I went for a ramble in the marsh, early one morning when the sun was just barely up. Mist rose up from the lake to swathe the small peninsula I was on, and everything was in soft focus, seemingly grey and wet and sad. Yet, if you walked bent over like I did, or crouched in the water weeds, shin deep in in dark, glinting water, you could see bright colors, trembling jewels, delicate line drawings.

Don't be afraid of getting wet; it's the price you have to pay to capture beauties no one else will see.

Here is the first set of beauties I will share with you from my ramble. Delicate, swaying spiderwebs draped over grasses. How I would love to have a necklace of these.

Monday, October 14, 2013

Autumn Leaves Inspiration

I've been so inspired and excited by the advent of fall that I've painted enough stuff to start up my Etsy shop again. Here are a few of the lovely leaves that have been my muses.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Farewell to Summertime

"In the fields of summer, I will dance away with you..." Sirenia, "Glades of Summer"

This has been a beautiful summer. I have swum, explored, gardened, and dreamed. Now it's time to say goodbye and welcome fall. Here are some images from my summer.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Anne Girl

L.M. Montgomery's character of Anne Shirley has always held a special place in my heart. As a girl, my imagination was captured by her, and not just because she had red hair and lived on Prince Edward Island; she had flaws like me, such as being too stubborn, holding grudges, and being a little too romantic. I loved nature, and she loved nature. I hated certain boys, and she hated certain boys. I fell in love against all my protestations, and she did too.

No surprise then that I sat down to paint something pretty, and what came out, quite by accident, was Anne Shirley. I didn't realize it until I'd painted the last strand of hair, and then I said to myself, "Well, if it isn't Anne Shirley." She has the red hair, perfect little nose, and flowers in her hair.

Rather appropriate I think, with fall coming on to astound us in all its wild, red glory.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Water Nymph

Summer is the perfect time to be a water nymph.

water nymph7 by NerySoul,

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Girl of the Limberlost

One of my favorite books is A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter. I read it so long ago that I can't remember if that book is what inspired my fascination with moths or if it merely spoke to it, but in any case, it is a well-beloved book to me. So, in an effort to explore the photo editing program Gimp, I created this collage, and found out that Gimp is wonderful! It's free, and very powerful, and decently easy to use.

Girl of the Limberlost by Grace

closeup of Girl of the Limberlost

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Caught by the Kelpie

Rain Approaching Hathersage Moor by Andy Hemingway

It has been a while since I've shown my face here, but I have good reason; I've been chasing the Muse through the rain. So much rain has fallen here for July that I'm beginning to wonder if I somehow slept through summer and now it's Autumn... but I don't care either way. I'm busy reveling in the rain and the newest form of my muse: the Kelpie.

I've a million ideas for a painting of this wonderful beast. There are many wonderful depictions of the Kelpie, and here are some of my favorites.

Boy on White Horse by Theodor Kittelsen, via Wikipedia

The Nix as a Brook Horse by Theodor Kittelsen, via Wikipedia
Now, I'm off follow my muse while I listen to a siren of a different sort...

Monday, July 8, 2013


photo by T. Kiya, source Wikimedia commons

I will tell the fireflies
To light up the night all around you
I will make the darkness light
I'll paint the sky all around you

~Cecile Corbel, Fireflies

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Summer is Honeysuckle

To me, there can't be summer without honeysuckle. Ever since I can remember, full-blown summer has been heralded by the scent of honeysuckle wafting along on the warm, humid air. It's what makes that warm, humid air bearable, even enchanting. It smells like fairytales and wild adventures and true love. But best of all, it holds a delicious, sweet secret ready for the taking... ask the butterflies and the bees if you don't know of what it is.


Monday, May 20, 2013


Oh, how I love thunderstorms. I eagerly await the wonderful, wild thunderstorms of the summer each year. The wind blows in carrying the scent of wet woods and fields, and soon enough, you hear the distant rumble of thunder.

Then it descends, all the wild wind, and hard rain drops pelting my skin, and piercing, crackling lightning. I breathe deeply, and sit back to watch... but sometimes I run out into it, glorying in the power and might and heedless wildness of it all. If I could throw myself onto the wind and be born away, I would be gone in a flash of lighting.

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

The Dawn

The dawn is a wonderful time. The world is still and quiet, waiting for the new day to start. There are so many possibilities for what it might bring, but in the dawning one is simply content to sit and feel the peace and magic of a beauty that is thunderous in its silence.

Maxfield Parrish, Daybreak, 1922

Nelleke, Stil Leven, 2012

Maxfield Parrish, Morning, 1922

Monday, April 15, 2013

Spring Flowers for Monday

It's a rather dreary Monday morning here, and I believe we could all use a good cheering up with more pictures of spring flowers. I've paired them with corresponding Pre-Raphaelite artworks as well, since that always cheers me up too. Enjoy!

Violets, Henry Meynell Rheam, 1904

A Vision of Fiammetta, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1878

"I am half sick of shadows" said the Lady of Shalott, Sidney Harold Meteyard, 1913

Apple Blossoms, John Everett Millais, 1859