Posted on December 13, 2012 by MaryALivingston

Thought you might like Tim’s side of our morning photo shoot. His inclusion of a “backside” might deserve its own post response.

Ever wonder what is going on behind the scenes with other blogs? This is a little snippet in the life of The Backdoor Artist. If you are a follower of my blog, you probably already know that I am married to The Backdoor Artist, Mary Livingston.

Mary has a front row seat to our backyard with a large window facing out from her work space. It is a wonderful view. A view which often provides for visual treats. Yesterday she spotted a large buck across the pond. She posted this adventure complete with beautiful pictures here at, http://thebackdoorartist.com/2012/12/11/animal-attraction/.

Spotting this big old buck prompted frantic camera grabbing and stealthful sneaking out into the yard to photograph the buck. When he didn’t run away, we plotted to stalk our subject for more and better shots. More frantic activity ensued with changing of clothes and getting shoes on. We came…

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Granddaughter Gift – part 1

Posted on December 7, 2012 by MaryALivingston

Work in Progress…girl on horse for T1. She loves horses. This is a start to a Christmas painting for her. What do you think so far?

The Duckel’ing

Posted on December 2, 2012 by MaryALivingston

One soppy morning, on our way to the hen house to gather chicken eggs, my oldest granddaughter was just the right height to spot movement in the tall stasis near the duck pen.

“Grandma, what’s that? Something moved.”

It caught my attention about the time she finished speaking. A newly hatched duckling was attempting to get back into the duck pen. On the other side, floating lifeless in the water was another newly hatched duckling. The pen was not a safe place for the hatchlings. I quickly rescued the living duckling and wrapped it in my top against my belly to keep it warm.

“Is it okay? Is the duckel’ing okay?” GrandThing1 was very worried.

We hurried back to the house where we gathered a storage bin, some rags and a heat lamp. When the makeshift brood box was ready, I slipped the little bird from under my top. My granddaughter’s eyes widened as she raised her delicate little hands in an open cup to receive the tiny baby.

“Oh, Grandma, it’s so cute. Hello, baby duckel’ing.” Reassured by her soft little voice, the duckling settled in. She cuddled it close.

“What will it eat?” She leaned over and whispered into her hands, “Are you hungry? Grandma, the duckel’ing is hungry.”

I dialed Grandpa’s cell and held the phone to her so she could leave a message.

“Grandpa, we need food for the baby duckel’ing.”

We placed the feathered baby into its brood box. GrandThing1 announced, “The duckel’ing needs a nap.” Off she rushed to where she napped during her visits.
I heard rustling, a little bit of grumbling, then, “Here it is!” Back she came with her favorite nap time storybook. She seated herself so the duckling could hear. Her little voice did not miss a beat retelling her memorized tale.

“Brown bear, brown bear…”

The Duckel'ing as she remembers. Of course now she says "duckling" it has been many birthdays since this event. We will always remember the "duckel'ing."

The Duckel’ing by GrandThing1. Of course now she says “duckling” it has been many birthdays since this event. We will always remember the “duckel’ing.”

Happy Birthday GrandThing1
Love,

Grandma

GrandThing1 and Grandma draw pictures together in a hangout.

Bliss Nicely Wrapped

Posted on November 23, 2012 by MaryALivingston

Gazing in the gift shop at the nutcrackers and dancers following the performance of “The Nutcracker.”
© 2012 MaryALivingston
Photo reference provided by
Lightly Spiced Photography by A. Adams

The holiday season is upon us. Adults worldwide look for ways to gift and treat the children in their lives.

Last year, I witnessed a most precious Christmas gift. One of our granddaughters loves ballet. Since she could stand she has twirled. Don’t know from where this comes. No one in the family dances other than for casual fun. So, her Papa and Nana took her, her older sister and their mom to a ballet performance of “The Nutcracker.” Little brother was too young to attend and Daddy was deployed half a world away.

We, Grandma and Grandpa, arrived for our visit the night before the ballet. Papa let us know his plans ahead of time, so we also procured tickets for the event.

Our two young granddaughters, ages 4 & 7, were in lovely dresses and shiny shoes. Their hair hung in beautiful locks. They were clearly prepared to attend an elegant event.

Being of small stature, it was hard for the littlest to see over the heads in front of her. She climbed in my lap for a better view.

The curtains opened and when the first ballerina twirled on her toes, the little one in my lap quivered and proclaimed, “I can do that!”

There were a few looks and even a “Shhhhh.”

Doesn’t everyone know the ballet requires silence?

She paid the naysayers no heed, for they did not register through her eagerness. As the show progressed, “I can do that,” would sound every now and again interspersed with an, “I can SO do that.”

This child’s love of ballet was coming to life before our eyes. With every pas de chat and arabesque she became more engaged.

She will remember this forever. Nana, Papa, Mama, Grandpa and Grandma will as well.

During a season when many overindulge, what mattered most to these little girls was spending time with their family at an event they treasured. Papa and Nana hit a home run with this gift, I am thankful we were there to share in the joy.

Some believe the expanse of lavish and numerous presents thrusts upon the little ones is a direct measure of love. Quite the opposite. I never for a moment doubted the love of my grandparents. Yet, over the years, I received not even one wrapped gift for a birthday or holiday from these two people who represented clear and abundant love. This was not because of culture or religious belief. They were poor. They barely had provisions for food and shelter. Sometimes not even that. Their gift everyday was love. The kind of love that reaches to your core. The kind of love that garners respect and delivers clear discipline. The kind of love that has the power to stay in a heart through times of joy and sorrow.

In this season, when it is all too easy to overindulge, take the time to build memories of love your children will treasure. We will all remember the ballet with Nana and Papa.

I Don’t Do Princess

Posted on November 14, 2012 by MaryALivingston

Our grandchildren love for us to carry them to bed after story time. Such was the case on this particular visit.

T2, our second granddaughter, wanted me to carry her this time, instead of Grandpa.

She says, “Grandma, carry me.”

Pleased to have the honor, I approach with arms out.

“Grandma, carry me,” she repeats. “Carry me like a princess.”

Princess? Really? Princess? Anyone who has read my posts, especially Wedded Bliss, can ascertain – I don’t do princess.

I gently leaned down and tenderly said, “Grandma doesn’t do princess.”

Well, she stood very tall, placed her hands on her hips, cocked her tiny head to the side, peered at me through her brow and in a pleasant, encouraging voice not matching her stern posture said, “Grandma, you can try.”

Princess it is.

One of Thing2’s art pieces displayed on The Repository of Bliss.

Happy Birthday GrandThing2
Love,
Grandma

Wedded Bliss

Posted on November 4, 2012 by MaryALivingston

I just stared at the wall. Painting upon painting. His wall was covered with art.

Some of the art on Tim’s wall 31 years ago. Check out his blog if you would like to see what he is up to today. Tim Livingston – The Forester Artist

I didn’t know this about him, that he was an artist. Apparently, I was the only one who didn’t know. Unlike me while in college, his artistic works were in the open, out there on display for friends and family to see.

About ten months earlier, we met on a blind date. (Don’t ask.) We had mutual friends and at some point, after this botched introduction and continually running into each other, we started dating.

I was already in danger of loosing my heart. The moment I saw he was an artist tipped me over the top.

Six months ago, over 31 years after seeing his wall of art, I picked up brushes and started to learn watercolor. No one was happier for me than Tim that I was learning to paint. Being married to my best friend is one of the greatest blessings in life. The fact that we also share many of the same passions is life’s icing.

You may wonder why it took me so long to pick up brushes. Oh, I toyed with it a few times, but I knew inevitably, people would compare us.

Our relationship is not about comparing.

Sitting in a blind one morning. Our version of dressing up for a date.

Well, we are comparing our WordPress blog world maps. Oh, then the time we took martial arts together and competed for trophies. And he did get the first buck this season. Mine was bigger. I found the biggest nugget on our claim. Although he holds the record for the biggest agate. However, my geode is near the size of a basketball. We both found nice septarian nodules…nonetheless, you get my point.

Asking a spouse or loved one to critique your work is risky. Tim says that asking him to critique my work is like asking him if my butt looks big or if my clothes make me look fat. There is no right answer.

So I joined an online illustrating course, Make Your Splashes – Make Your Marks!, where I am able to learn, hone my skills and participate in critiques.

As for Tim, here are his most expert responses to my most ridiculous question:

Us with a few of our golden retrievers on vacation at Roaring Camp. It’s a great place to learn about gold mining.

Her: Does this make me look fat?
Him: I don’t think it does your body justice.
or
Him: I don’t think you would like the way it looks.

Yep, wedded bliss.

Happy Birthday Tim –
Love,
Mary

Catching Bliss

Posted on October 27, 2012 by MaryALivingston

Have you ever noticed that children left to their own devices will gravitate toward an activity to capture bliss?
No one has to tell them to use a crayon to draw upon the walls or that when paper tears it makes a cool sound. They are fully capable of finding these pleasures all on their own.

Curiosity and discoveries fill their hearts and open the world.

Our youngest was the most prolific scribbler of walls. He loved to draw on paper, but what he relished most was a simple wall canvas.
What must have gone through his mind when I grumbled while cleaning the walls before selling the house?

I hope he knows we saved his paper art. He must, because in his home, his children have an art table at the ready for spontaneous creations.

So today, as we celebrate his birthday, we can only speculate what wonders of bliss his children will reveal to their dad and mom.

Happy Birthday Stephen
With love,
Mom

– By Stephen Livingston (age 5 years)

Granddaughter’s Note

Posted on September 22, 2012 by MaryALivingston

Grandchildren are purveyors of bliss. In my office, just below the window side of my desk, the backside of a dry-erase board is visible. The dry-erase board is facing the wall to protect it.

Okay, I know, I can take a picture of it, and I have taken a picture. The picture does preserve the memory. But a picture, though it may be worth a thousand words, can never take the place of my granddaughter’s note to her grandpa and me.

Grand Thing One wrote an wonderful “Rainbow Note” to Grandma and Grandpa. Fresh out of Kindergarten and on the way to first grade, here is Grand Thing One’s “Rainbow Note”

During a visit when Grand Thing One had just completed Kindergarten, she spontaneously wrote a note to us on the whiteboard from my office. She changed out color markers as she pleased, and the adorned the note with an illustration of herself with Grandma, Grandpa, and Tom Dog. (Tom Dog is her daddy’s dog.) The lovely note, exactly as written is in the picture. Here is how she read it to us:

“I Love Grandma and Grandpa. Your dogs are cute, I love them too. I love to read with you and they make me laugh. It is funny. I love to stay up with you, it makes me happy to stay up with you. When I see the sunshine it makes me sing about you. You fill my heart with love. I do not want to leave. I want to stay right here. I will not move. It was nice to see you but it was fun with you. Good-bye, I will see you soon. Good-bye, I love you, good-bye.”

A straight line from her house to ours is 1350 miles. She is in 2^nd grade now. I think I will send her some stationary, addressed envelopes and stamps. We Google Hangout often, and we call, but a nice note from little hands is a moment of bliss a grandma cannot resist.

As you see, I have a picture, but I do not, and never will, have the heart to erase her letter. So, all of you people out there in blog land, someone must know how to preserve this dry-erase message.

Is there a spray? Can the surface be laminated? Do I leave it as is and just pray nothing happens? Do I buy multiple dry-erase boards and experiment?

Your suggestions are welcome in this grandma’s desire to preserve bliss.

Grandma’s Morning Cup

Posted on September 12, 2012 by MaryALivingston

A child’s art is a moment of bliss that continues to give.

My favorite cup features art from our oldest granddaughter. She drew this little row of flowers when she was four. I need to make an updated cup, she is seven now. Perhaps the new one will include refrigerator masterpieces from her younger sister and brother.

For parents looking for something special for Grandma and Grandpa, consider art from grandchildren. Grandchild art can be featured on an everyday item, like my favorite cup, or simply framed or on the front of a card.

I often receive treasured showpieces from our grandchildren. The gift of art from little hands is a moment of bliss that continues to give.

9-11 Birthdays

Posted on September 11, 2012 by MaryALivingston

Tim brings me coffee every morning. Our morning time has developed a routine, we watch the news and like most great friends, our best conversations solve the ills of the world before we set about our day.

The day started as most others; Tim crossed the living room with a steaming cup of hot coffee. His eyes reflected his flirty smile.
As he began to speak, I noticed his distraction to the news feed.

“Happy birthd… the towers are on fire.”

We turned up the volume just as the second plane hit.
Everyone remembers where they were, what they were doing on September 11, 2001.

People are born everyday; odds are we all share our date of birth with an unpleasant event of some sort or another. For me, for my niece, and for countless others, 9-11 is our birthday.

Life is a balance. Good things and bad things happen everyday. I hope for those of us with a 9-11 birthday, that we strive for good, that we strive for balance.
As I give thanks for the blessings in my life, I offer prayers for those lost and those who still mourn.

May we all celebrate life and bring a little bliss into the lives we touch.