Fairies in Winter

PAULA HANNAH HANNAH-MAURI'S POEM:

Winter Fairies

Fairies shrouded in white, dancing, whirling left and right,

sporting the winter game.

Swirling beyond,

they turn and in step

follow the icy wind.

Fairies, together,

spin and spiral about

above the white below

that reaches up

to touch the grey sky –

the veil of morning.

At last the fairies come to rest

and gently sink into

the drift below.

Swiftly, they vanish

and join together as one.  

A Few New Paintings -- May/June 2012

The Wind, Our Constant Companion

We've been sitting on the deck looking southwest and watching the weather come in. Quite a distance out we see flat, anvil shaped clouds moving our way Over head the clouds are very busy pushing around large puffs of fog and mist. The wind is howling but the wind ALWAYS howls here, a constant companion. We were at a neighborhood get together on Monday and one of our neighbors told us that when they were looking at the property they eventually purchased the realtor discouraged them from buying it because she said 'it is so windy out there, no one will put a house up.' We know she was partially incorrect because we are here with some neighbors but she was right on about the wind!

Snow Fairies seen during the month of May

I did some tweaking to this poem - 

Fairies shrouded in white, dancing, whirling left and right,

sporting the winter game

Swirling beyond,  

They turn and in step

follow the icy wind.

Fairies,together,

Spin and spiral about.

Above the white below  

That reaches up

to touch the grey sky –

The veil of morning.

At last the fairies come to rest

and gently settle on

the mound below.

Swiftly, they vanish

into one with all that fell. 

What Does It Take To Be Creative?

What does it take to be creative?

As I reflect on the past, I realize that as I matured my creative passion grew more intense and purposeful.  I married my first husband when I was in my early twenties and I concentrated my creative juices to make a comfortable and cozy home.  Money was scarce so my friends and I would spend hours going to tag sales, garage sales, and junk sales searching for the perfect whatnot to create the cozy living room or bedroom on pennies.  Through experimentation, I became more aware of how textiles could work together, room arrangements and color combinations could be use to reflect personality and mood, and collectables could add fun and whimsy to a home. When I cooked and baked I tried not just to create yummy dinners and desserts, but also beautiful ones with elegant presentations.

Many years later and, with a new husband, I moved to North Carolina.  My creativity has flourished since our move because in times of quiet,  my brain can rest and process and dream.  My best ideas come to me when I’m relaxed or not preoccupied with producing anything.

Creative people dream new ideas and out of the box concepts and then actually set about to bring them into existence.  Creativity takes time and work and patience to nurture.  It involves learning lots of little skills and then figuring out how to put them together to make something new and special.  Creativity means setting fear aside and putting your heart and soul into a creation (even if it may be criticized and rejected).  Creativity can’t happen without risk.  There are no right or wrong ideas.  I try to trust my intuition.  When I jump off and explore new ideas, the positive energy comes right back to me in ways I had never imagined.

A Daughter's Reflections On Her Mom

My Impossibly French Mom

My mother had French blood running through her veins and like many French women, she had an eye for fashion and a taste for elegance.  My husband saw it.  When talking about my mom, he often says,    ‘Your mom had a sense of style.’ 

She knew how to be stylish.  My mother bought high quality and classic clothes, perhaps because they enhanced the way she felt about herself.  She didn’t mind spending money on her wardrobe   She chose colors and styles that complimented her.   She wore very little make up, lipstick and a touch of powder.   Fine lines surrounded her eyes and her hair had a little grey; yet, it was hard for people to guess how old she was.  For years, she looked like she could be anywhere between fifty-five and sixty-five years old.   She was nonchalant about aging and her attitude seemed to be a man could love and have fun with a woman of any age.   Her dark eyes could be warm and compassionate, could twinkle mischievously, or snap in anger. 

She loved to swim and her strokes were fluid, strong and graceful.  They looked effortless.  She didn’t have an ounce of fat on her body.

My mother had a bit of the ‘impossibly French’ attitude.  She made a little time for herself everyday.  She could be sexy, sophisticated, vivacious, and flirtatious.  She turned everyday into an ‘la petite aventure.’

One More To Add To The Collection

This one was just for fun -