Let's not

Let’s just write and see what comes out, because I’m feeling frustrated and helpless with my own feelings. Inside I think that there must be something I can do to really feel good about this past week, but there’s not much to tell. It was a week of disappointments, loneliness, and crazy concentration of resolving my fears. I don’t know that I accomplished any of that… please note the prior articles of bunnies, deer, cute shaggy dog, and outspoken bird… do you see a problem here?

Let’s not focus on the issues I need to overcome or need to get over, or need to hang on to… lets’ not but say we did.

Let’s just analyze the entire trauma of being ignored in a certain place because my paranoia is free today. Normally I charge myself a dollar for every paranoid thought I have. You should see my savings. This past week alone could afford me a couple nights in a luxury bed and breakfast, provided it’s within walking distance and I don’t have to buy gas for my smallish mini-van.

Let’s not cry over being flipping ignored because I can’t make people speak or hang out a welcoming sign. Some might think with a name like dcrelief , I represent the great American capitol. No, that’s not it, but my paranoid thoughts are continuing to build me capital. Let’s not cry.

Let’s just be thankful for the friend or two that dropped in, commented in, emailed in, and all that in stuff. In spite of my less than happy attitude, they stuck by… but the weekend is here… will they come back? Lets’ just be thankful they were here at all.

Let’s not drive myself nuts because I blew the budget, got challenged by my doctor, had the wrong organ removed during surgery, and all that blown stuff.

Let’s just write or let’s not.

The deer and the hare

All day I watched them in the snow
Playing happily just so
A deer and hare; now could it be
Were truly friends, not enemies?

Flights of fur and lots of hopping
The day went on without them stopping
The sun came out and warmed the air
The deer was looking at the hare

Was it time to end their play
Continue on another day
My camera clicked, I froze in place
As they were touching face to face

I didn’t know if the shot was good
Remaining quiet where I stood
The two were bidding each ‘good day’
In such an awe inspiring way

I have no words that can convey
The moment took my breath away
In hopes I’ll look for them this year
The tiny hare and gentle deer

Friends of the Heart

Recently I have been part of two different blog sites, and it is very nice to be a part of their world; enjoying and sharing our writings in hopes of reaching an audience of people who still care about our world.

Both blog sites are listed in my “blog roll,” so please take a look and read their adventures, disappointments, hopes, and “life is happening” stuff. I admire both writers, and hope you will too.

Klahanie: “a man challenging his inner critic.”

dispatches from the jazz unit: …a blog about entertainment and politics. or are they really the same thing?

Fall down

“Erika’s Place” painting 6”x8”, dcrelief

In the course of my day I can become overwhelmed by my thoughts. My familiar thing to do is just let them run on and on until, finally exhausted, I fall down.

Thoughts wash over me and I listen to make sure the walls of my being are not creaking and ready to crack under the strain. Would someone please get me out of my own way?

Lately I’ve tried to have more constructive thought; what helps me improve my life? I’ve been visiting new blogs, making new friends, and like what I’m hearing. There seems to be a real treasure in learning to practice having “positive anticipation” that some share.

At least I’m working on it. At least there are people who not only understand but they take time out to encourage where I want to be. I don’t want to fall down.

The Abandoned Boat

“The Abandoned Boat” painting by dcrelief

I sat on the shore and sketched the boat that rocked gently between in-coming waves, threatening to take off again into that emerald water. In my mind I wondered if something amiss had happened to the occupants yet I kept on sketching as quickly as I could, fearing the chance would be gone any time, and I’d be left with my imagination to fill in the details. Still I itched to know who abandoned that boat and why.
Later in time, long after my painting was complete, I wondered about having abandoned my own life… my proverbial boat… those issues that I feared facing. For me: to give up seeking answers was akin to giving up entirely.

Today I decided that there are some things I may never have an answer for, and to continue depending on others is a waste of their time and an avoidance of what I should be searching for instead. My patience is weak and so I must turn and give it rest. To those who would follow me, I say, find someone worthy of your admiration and give your time to that blog site.

Kate and the sand fairy

“Kate and the sand fairy” painting by dcrelief

One of my nieces gave me a call
“Do me a painting to hang on my wall.
I want lots of sand and a beautiful sea,
And a castle that’s small with a fairy for me.”

Large floating clouds that hide the great sun;
Reflecting its beauty and playfully done.
An ocean that threatens to wash into shore
And take the small castle with each foaming roar.

“And paint me in purple; I’ll lie on the beach.
Just like ‘Mona Lisa’, a slight smile in peach.
Can you place in my hand a fairy so small?
And make her have wings, though not very tall?”

I searched family photos to find that sweet face
To paint in the setting of a magical place.
Yet when I was done I really could see
That sweet little face looked so much like me.

And she saw it too and thought it was great
That she looked like me, and I looked like Kate!
“Aunt D, it’s amazing that we look alike,
so for our next painting, let’s paint it at night.”

In the quiet of my night

In the quiet of the night, I can contemplate the most marvelous things or the most pitiful sorrows. I can make them as big or as small as I choose. With only the low hum of my fan, I sit here and type away. Sometimes I wish I could type away the misery of my own and other people's lives; yet I cannot. It is then that I feel so small. And I type and I type.

In the quiet of the night I can type chapter after chapter of my life, which may never be read, save by me; chapters that I've written that never a tear was shed until I reread them. It is only through the growth of my spirit that I am able to look in hindsight and weep in sorrow or in joy. Yet when the pain of too much sorrow or too much joy would overwhelm me I move to the quiet of the night and I type.


In the quiet of the night I can know when I'm sad. I can know when I'm joyful. I can know when someone else feels those same feelings. I can offer a shoulder, a smile, or both. Indeed when tears are shared and mingle together with someone who understands, they offer comfort… in my quiet of the night.

The Pink Forest

“The Pink Forest” painting by dcrelief

Every year I wander home to Pennsylvania to visit with family. I find my self surrounded by nieces and nephews for whom I have written children’s books over the years. Now they are old enough to have children and it’s, “Aunt D, can I get another copy of ‘The Red Bird’, ‘Grandma’s Teapot,’ or ‘The Wooden Horse’?” Funny but I didn’t realize that my books would be so loved. Is it time to publish them; with my dual fear of failure or success… I can only wonder.

I always take my paints and canvas and carefully trek into the woods or some other quiet spot and record with brushes what I see. Last year was no different but I wondered what to paint in the dismally cold rain. Before the week was out I had my answer; the rain cleared and an overcast sky began to snow. Huge flakes began to fall as if someone was standing on the mountain top and shredding paper; nice large flakes! The ground covered fast and I could tell there was going to be a painting. But it continued on through the night and I began to doubt I’d ever make the walk through the large drifts.

It was around seven in the morning that two of my oldest nieces woke me, “C’mon and see the pink forest.” I hurriedly dressed, we grabbed my painting gear and I followed, not knowing to where. The youngest, at 21, talked fast, “Oh you’ve got to see this. It happens every year when it snows. We call it ‘the pink forest’”. Pretty soon we came upon a clearing and… the painting from above is what we saw. No words could really describe the beauty. Enjoy!