Too Much Pleasure!

That horse is having way too much fun -- but who am I to talk? After all the times I've been down this road, hoping for a distant glimpse of "my darlings," as I call a couple of them, today the whole herd was so close to the fence that I almost cried from happiness!

That one there with the white face looked very strangely marked when I first caught sight of her as we came down the road. Closer, it was obvious that some of the horses had been rolling in the mud, as you saw that first one rolling in the dust up there. Dirty coats? They had been having the time of their lives!

Usually when we see a group of horses, David and I decide which one each of us would take, if we had the chance to have one. This time he preferred the one in the image just above. At first I thought the one just below here would be my choice, but all of them were so beautiful, I finally said, "Can't we just have them all?" And he said, "Sure. We can have them all." When you're dreaming, after all, there's no reason not to dream big.

Little girl! She was only a baby last year!

In short, it was a horse visit for the memory book. David thinks they will remember me, too, another time. I'm not sure of that, but you can bet I won't be leaving home without carrots and apples in the cooler any time soon. One of this herd declined my carrots but was happy to accept slices of apple. Something for everyone!

See you next time!

Summer on the Wing

Some Up North summer mornings are magical. Moment by moment, they offer unexpected beauty, whether in the village or out on the back roads of the township. How many days are we fortunate enough to glimpse a great blue heron in flight along the creek? And why should someone have left a colorful bouquet on a country road signpost?

The truth is, though, that on a beautiful morning everything is beautiful -- the most "ordinary," quotidian scenes heartbreaking in their perfection. Ah, life! You shameless seducer, you!

Organization

The younger of my two younger sisters says wryly that if she ever has a tombstone it should read: “She was organized to a fault.” Mine, should I ever have one, could not live up to that inscription. I’m not the least but certainly far from the most organized person I know.

Still, the other day a friend and I were talking about beauty and what it is in a landscape that makes us recognize it as beautiful, that is, as something to be captured somehow by art (he thought it required a clearing), and I remarked that my husband has a couple Leelanau County views he loves but says neither allows itself to be organized into a painting. Some kind of organization, I said, seems to be necessary. (What this has to say about Jackson Pollock, I leave for others to decide.) Responding to our friend’s thought about clearings, I agree that I do love fields, whether in crops or wild, and I particularly them when bordered by dark trees and interrupted by a curving road.

This morning as Sarah and I were out taking our morning exercise and fresh air, it occurred to me that one of the reason paintings of flowers are so generally satisfying is that nature has already organized each flower. A horizon line very clearly organizes the world of a painting or photograph. The image below is a very ordinary morning scene -- rien de spécial -- but the line separating Lake Michigan from the sky tells you where you are. We are creatures who seek meaning, who make meaning, and for that it is important that we organize our world view.

Paintings by my husband, David Grath, are now on exhibit through September 9 at the Dennos Museum Center in Traverse City. David is well known for his interpretations of beautiful landscape, and admission is free this week during the Traverse City Film Festival.

Just plain grass is beautiful to me.