Door Number Eight

An oil painting I did soon after I came to Vermont in the mid-1990's, called Winter Light.

I began this blog in the spring of 2011, some eight-and-a-half years ago, and have now published 337 postings beginning with one a week, then one every two weeks.  I named it Door Number Eight because I had entered my 8th decade (so I was in my early 70's) and expected I would carry on with it until I turned 80.  In fact, I've gone somewhat beyond that, still enjoying finding an outlet for my lists, photos, opinion pieces, etc.

That said, I now find myself not particularly wanting to continue but also not particularly wanting to stop.  So, I shall make a happy compromise of leaving this blog open for the time being but not necessarily posting anything.  If something strikes me, I'll add it.  But it nothing strikes me, I offer old postings instead of new.  You can always scroll down chronologically ... or access the Topics in the right hand margin.

It's been fun.  I'm rather amazed that I could haul out 337 pieces about this and that. 

Movies I Saw This Year That I Can Recommend

Here are some films that I watched this year and can recommend.

Documentary (from Netflix)

Birders:  The Central Park Effect.  Central Park's bird-watchers and the variety of birds they watch.  I found it all quite charming.

On the Way to School.  An inspiring documentary featuring four groups of school children who have a long walk to school--an older brother and his little sister by horseback in Patagonia; a boy who can't walk who is pushed by his two little brothers in a wheel chair over awkward terrain in South India; three girls in the High Atlas who have 22 km. (which takes 4  hours) to walk over rocky ground; and a brother and sister in Kenya who have 15 km. to go across elephant country.  They all take it very seriously, are amazingly helpful to each other, and consider going to school a real privilege.  One girl goes around to neighboring villages to urge residents to send their children to school.  The too-faint subtitles were hard to read so I had to more or less disregard them except at the end when it described what each child hoped to do when grown.

The Biggest Little Farm.  A young couple move from L.A. and turn unproductive acreage into a beautiful farm filled with fruit trees, animals, and an irrigation pond as they strive for (and achieve) biodiversity as their basic philosophy.  Wonderfully done both as a film and as a farm.

They Came to Play.  The Van Cliburn annual amateur pianists competition held in Texas 2007 with an eye surgeon winning first prize.

Documentary (from Kanopy)

Walking the Camino:  Six Ways to Santiago.  Inspiring, beautifully photographed, focusing on a few people, their pain, tears, and laughter--using walking as a spiritual practice.  I hadn't realized how gorgeous that part of Spain is.

Drama/Comedy (from Netflix)

Can You Ever Forgive Me? A biographical film about author Lee Israel's literary forgeries with Richard E. Grant as her friend.

Miss Austen Regrets.  From a Masterpiece Classic with Olivia Williams--to my mind a much more convincing Jane Austen than Anne Hathaway depicted in her version.

Puzzle.  Kelly McDonald and Irrfan Khan--who starred in the India film, Lunchbox.  A woman whose only activities are for her husband and two sons plus the church.  When she then meets a man who needs a puzzle partner, they fall in love.  Not well lit; hard to see.  Good acting.

Queen of Katwe.  A biodrama about master chess player, Phiona Mutesi, from the slums of Kampala, Uganda, with a supportive mother and chess coach.  Moving.  Directed by Mira Nair.

The Cakemaker.  German baker loves an Israeli man who divides time between Berlin and Jerusalem.  After the man's accidental death, the baker goes to Jerusalem, finds the man's wife, and begins helping her in her cafe, making cookies and cakes but never letting on that he knew her deceased husband.  Slow, engaging.

The Guardians.  France.  Set from 1915-1920 on a farm showing all the chores. Beautiful  photography, each frame like a painting.  Simple story of the women taking care of the farm while the men are at war.  Particularly gorgeous sequence of scenes of harvesting.  Little dialogue, mostly silent communication.  Only one disruptive war scene.  Excellent acting including a mother/daughter who portray a mother/daughter.

The Way.  With Martin Sheen.  Also about the Camino.  Even more moving seeing it a second time.  Glorious photography.  With Martin Sheen as walkers from the U.S., Canada, Ireland, and Holland find their way together.

Woman at War.  Iceland.  A woman carries on environmental awareness via sabotage of the grid.  Quirky, effective.

Drama/Comedy (from Kanopy)

Menashe. A Hasidic widower is told he can't keep his ten-year-old son until  he remarries and  establishes a proper home for him.  In Yiddish and filmed in the Orthodox part of Brooklyn.  Could be tightened up.

Drama/Comedy (from Netflix Streaming)

Fanny's Journey.  Based on the true story of a young Jewish girl in France who, in 1943 along with other Jewish children, was being sheltered by the Oeuvres de Secour aux Enfants for three years.  Then, with no adults they could trust and Fanny leading them, they suddenly had to leave when someone rats on them and they make their way to Switzerland.  The tale describes their escape.  Beautifully done.  Very moving.

Private Life.  Paul Giamatti.  About a couple trying to conceive in the '40s. NYC setting.  Well acted. No punches pulled.

Series (from Netflix Streaming)

Chef's Table.  Excellent.  Stories of individual chefs from around the world and how they became inspired.  From Patagonia and Thailand to Slovenia, Italy, and North America.

Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat.  Samin Nosrat, a highly enthusiastic cook at Chez Panisse, says these four make food, flavor, and balance.  Engaging presentation.


(Plus a few on my "don't bother" list.)

Chappaquiddick.  Morose.
King of Thieves.  Boring despite Michael Caine.  Mediocre at best.
Our Souls at Night.  Redford is uncomfortable; Fonda plows ahead.  Not their best.
The Exception.  Hokey.
Tulip Fever.  Interesting setting but poor and contrived plot.



  

A Gallery of Photos: A Few End of Season Shots

Turtle Fun

Here we are, approaching the tail-end of what I might call "acceptable weather."  No ice yet, no awful slush. More rain, yes, but still some sunny days.  A first frost.

Squash Time

Snake Gourds

Apple Grazing Visitors

Migrating Monarch

Sunny Day

Fluff!!

The Wonder of It All

On a camel in Cairo

Note:  I wrote this some years back and never posted it but have decided to now since my feelings are the same despite the fact that, indeed, I am now an octogenarian and my life is therefore shifting in several respects.  (Maybe I'll talk about that another time, or maybe I won't.)  And, oh yes, I have seen France again, twice, and enjoyed it enormously.


Why do I ever think that life is only so-so or even a pile of tribulations when, in fact, it is absolutely superb.  I mean, listen to Peter Paul and Mary and remember when we were young and in our own wonderful space, doing our youthful work.  For me it was being off in Asia working with Tibetans and Nepalis.  Or, remembering my spouse who was a totally unique and fabulous individual who consistently inspired me and made me laugh.  Or thinking of those early days with our daughter who expressed herself, always, as an intelligent, lovable person as well as the expression of both my husband and myself.  It was our friends in that town.  It was, yes, the awful, cold winters.  It was then, after that, working on my own--as both an empty nester and a youngish widow--working to try to figure out "the rest of my life."

But as I remember, as these days come back to me, I feel totally privileged to have been a part of that time, those people ... as well as this life, these people.  To appreciate who we are, the time when we've lived, the time when we are living, and the people we are sharing that with!!

There are times I'm in tears, I'm so moved by my life, my past, my present, by what I have experienced and continue to experience.  As if I've been handed a gift of sea glass or new spring mornings or robins songs or French wines or views of the Jungfraujoch or the smell of the sea or the perfection of an herb garden or the visitation of a fox or the harkening back to my birth family all of whom are now gone.  Or the time when I first began to paint or play the piano or wanted to learn foreign languages or the time I saw Europe for the first time (from the railing of a Danish freighter) or began to appreciate that, in fact, I could paint pretty well. Or when I revived college friendships or realized that, yes, I was (am) getting old. Or when I put it out to the universe that I'd like to see France again and Iona and sing Handel's Messiah and paint a picture that I think satisfactory.

Thank you!

A Gallery of Photos: Growing Wild

I went out walking along the West River and snapped a few shots in early August and then again in early September.

Here is what August looked like

Staghorn Sumac

Queen Anne's Lace

Sunflowers in a field of corn

Chicory and Black-eyed Susan

And the photographer

And September

Goldenrod beside the West River

Sumac foliage

I  haven't any idea what this is

Or this

Graceful grasses

 'Bye ....

Playing with Watercolor

I signed up for a watercolor class in July, four Tuesday mornings, with several of the people I had gone to paint with in France two years in a row.  Our teacher (who came to France both times) wanted to get us used to splashing around, using lots of water.  What's called "wet on wet."  Take a sheet of  paper, tape it onto a board, then brush clean water over the whole thing.  Dipping a brush into paint, you then splash the paint onto the paper in random fashion and then as the paper dries, gradually work through the painting to produce whatever your imagination dictates.  An abstract flower.  A loose tree beside a pond.  Whatever you want.

Our first Tuesday, we were shown flower photos to give us a variety of petal, leaf, and stem structures.  After putting down my initial colors in higgledy-piggledy fashion, I tried using negative painting to come up with some tulips.  Negative painting as opposed to positive painting is when you work with the negative space around your subject rather than working on the subject itself. (By working on the subject's background, you end up defining the subject.)  Not long into the painting, I decided to turn it into one of a peony instead.

We were also advised to drop in bright colors to start with.  Then, once those dried, to not go back and brighten them up even more because we could lose the initial luminosity but, instead, to use a greyish color in the negative space. Thus making the subject stand out.

Our first Tuesday, we worked with those flower photos   Our second, sliced watermelons with lemons.  Fresh flowers in vases our third.  And cupcakes our fourth.  I produced several casual, playful paintings each session, several that I didn't keep but at least one each session that I did.

Using the flower photos as inspiration  ...

Thinking I might turn the painting into one of tulips ...

... but then switching to a single peony

Watermelons and lemons ...

Preparing the three main colors I wanted to use

After just a little more definition, liking its looseness, I decided to leave the rest alone

Cut flowers in a vase ...

Part way along

A day lily (of sorts)

Cupcakes ...

We not only got to paint them, we got to eat them

This was the plate in front of me from which I picked only one, then left off the orange decorations ..

..to keep it simple

Doing a Lot of Nothing Much

I've been doing a lot of nothing much lately.  (Don't get me wrong:  nothing much can be wonderful.  And it can also be called Reducing the Toxic Load.) For one thing, it's been too hot to do anything much.

Even if it weren't too hot, I don't go out much.  I'm no good at shopping.  I don't feel I need anything.  And then I don't much like looking for a place to park, going off in the hot sun to put money in the ticket machine, then going back to put the ticket on the dashboard.  I did manage to find some pretty earrings for a family member who recently had her ears pierced. Afterwards, I considered getting an ice cream cone across the street, but I didn't even do that.  I just went back to the car and drove home where I can look out the window at the sunlight filtering through the white pines. Or think about a recent painting I did in a watercolor class.  Or read my current book.

Sometimes when it's especially hot, I'll get in my car, turn on the A/C, and drive around.  But to get out of here, I have to choose.  Do I go the front way with all its traffic and trucks that will be shooting off onto the interstate? Or do I go the back way, a pretty dirt road where I can then go to a little farm stand and get homemade cookies, veggies, frozen meat?  (I often choose the latter.)

As I emailed a friend recently, I think we should all be required to spend at least a day in the country now and again.  It helps balance, cleanse, and enable one to get back to basics.  But choose a back road to get there.  No heavy traffic!