My Treefrog and Frog Fairytales

There are several little green tree frogs that live around my house. I snuck up on this one and got a few good captures of him. The jewel-like color of their skin is simply amazing; the color has not been enhanced in any way in these photos.

photos by me

Of course one always thinks of the fairytale, "The Frog Prince" by the Brothers Grimm. In that story, there is no kissing of frogs involved, rather the frog is thrown against a wall and turns into a Prince. I wasn't about to throw this little guy against the wall to see what he'd become. Besides, I've already caught my Prince.

The Frog Prince by Arthur Rachkham, source, Terry Windling's blog: http://windling.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54fcf7385883401a3fd23db7c970b-pi

I've always thought frogs are fascinating little creatures, with such odd, enigmatic little smiles. There aren't a whole lot of little girls who squeel upon sight of a toad of frog and run toward it, but I was one of them. Frogs feature a great deal in fairytales, though the one we're most familiar with is "The Frog Prince" by the aforementioned brothers. However, there's a Russian folk tale of a Frog Princess. If you're interested, you can read it here.

Burrowing Owl

Burrowing Owl by Wagner Machado Carlos Lemes, source Wikimedia Commons

I saw this gorgeous photo of a Burrowing Owl and couldn't help posting it here. It has one foot tucked away under its feathers so completely, you'd almost think it only has one leg!

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.

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.

To Bad Beginnings and Happy Endings

Yesterday morning started out badly for me. Despite having aced algebra in college, I still cannot, it seems, correctly calculate the width of a matt when it comes to framing my art. Consequently, I ordered half the matting space I needed for the frames for my BFA show coming up this month, and yesterday morning I had to call the framing company bright and early hoping they hadn't already cut my frames and I could cancel my order without the restocking fee. But they had cut them. And I did have to throw a decent bit of perfectly good money out the window to cancel my order, and then reorder my frames in the correct dimensions.

Being a very frugal person, I wasn't one bit happy with myself. So I had a few sniffles, reordered my frames, and then had a few more sniffles. Until my husband called around lunch to see how my ordeal had gone, and upon hearing about it, notified me that, as it was a lovely, sunny day, we were going on a picnic to a wonderful park he had discovered along the Arkansas River. Somehow, he had hit upon the only thing that could really take my mind off my misery: a picnic in a gorgeous park on an early spring day, along the a river no less.

So I packed some soup and sandwiches and a thermos of tea, and off we went. And it was such a beautiful park! It wasn't the usual sort of park, the sort with swing sets and picnic tables in the middle of some trees. It was a little ways out of town in some steep hills covered in woods, with the river flowing lazily past. The trails were wild and rambling, and there were rocky bluffs to sit on top of and look at the river below. But best of all was the abundance of ferns and moss and lichen growing all over.

We rambled all afternoon, and then watched the sunset, which was simply exquisite. No painting can ever capture the flaming glory of a sunset. No colors are gaudy enough, vibrant enough, thrilling enough! It was just perfect. A lovely end to a bad beginning.