spring
summer
fall
leaves fall
bright color
down
brown rot
after fall
crepitate
for winter
hope for spring
again
maybe
________________
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: crepitate.
spring
summer
fall
leaves fall
bright color
down
brown rot
after fall
crepitate
for winter
hope for spring
again
maybe
________________
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: crepitate.
These are etchings by my mother, Helen Burling Ottaway, who died in 2000.
All four are done with the same etching plate.
Winter is done first. The zinc plate is covered with a protective layer and then she draws with tools, including dental tools. The plate is placed in an acid bath. The acid etches where the drawings are, different depths. The protective layer is removed. The plate is inked. Most of the ink is gently wiped off and the plate is placed on the press. Wet paper is laid on the plate and the heavy wool covers are folded down over that. The press is run. The wool is folded back on the other side and the paper is lifted and laid to dry.
The plate is re inked for each one.
She puts the protective cover back on the plate and adds the buds for spring. These are etched. Winter is now gone, the plate has changed. She prints all of the spring series.
Next is summer. Leaves are added. She prints those.
Last is autumn. Now there are leaves on the ground as well. She does some the plates with more than one ink color. This was one of her largest etchings. She did a small series first, where the etchings were about 4 by 6 inches. This was 18 by 24. She had a really big etching press. I don’t know who has it, my sister took it to California and it disappeared.
I have the etchings and I have all the plates. I can’t run this series, I could only run autumn. I grew up surrounded by my mother doing art, etchings, watercolors, oils, lithography, a constant sketchbook and crafts. I took a painting class a few years ago. The instructor says, “Acrylics are NOT watercolors.” I reply, “I know how to DO watercolors.” I was being quite creative with the acrylics only I automatically used the watercolor techniques that I grew up with.
The photograph doesn’t really do them justice. I will have to take some more. Plus I have her slides in some of the boxes left from when my father died. More cataloging.
Blessings and good memories of my mother.
Boa Black would often wait in the yard, watching. What was she waiting for?
These:

Boa really liked the fawns. She would wait and watch the path into my second lot.
I have a 1930 house and a 1930 garage. The garage is on the lot line and one side extends five feet into a second lot, that is set at 90 degrees to the house lot. I quit mowing the second lot when I was divorced, working, and had two kids. I talked to the neighbors on the block and no one objected. The lot is hidden from the road by a huge bank of rosa rugosa.
The deer have used the lot in some years to stash young fawns while they made their rounds.
This is taken with a 26X zoom, so the fawn saw me but did not get spooked. Actually the fawn was hopping around in the second lot and managed to look guilty when I first saw it. Uh-oh, mom told me to stay hidden. It lay down and tried to pretend it had been behaving the entire time.
Boa Cat died in early 2020, after 17 years with me, a kitten from the pound. In memorium.
We keep running across boulders that we can’t bring home. Good thing, or my house would REALLY be cluttered. I only bring home rocks that I can fit in my reticule.
For today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: twist.
You work at healing
For years
You dive in the swamp
Of your psyche
Turn over the mud
Tunnel through it
Breath it
See lilies arise
From the muck
The Beloved is a deer
Dainty hooves
In the swamp
At last you come
To bedrock
So you rest
Bedrock
You think
Until you notice
A chink in the rock
You look away
You avoid it
At last you look
It isn’t going away
The Beloved is a bittern
In the reeds
Fluid leaks
From the chink
Foul black bilious
Acidic
Burning holes in the slanted rock
Again you look away
But not for long
You step forward
Touch the rock
I am present you say
Who is there?
The stream of foul black
Increases
Pours from a widening crack
Beloved is a tiger
Paw against the rock
You see the acid burning
Her paw
But she does not run
She stands guard
Who are you?
You whisper
The rock crumbles
There is a child
“Go away” says the child
Ancient
No you say
Beloved and I
Stay present
The black is swirling around you
It’s hard to keep your footing
Beloved, an orca
Steadies you, swimming
No one stays says the child
We stay present you say
I was born I loved I was abandoned When I was afraid
We are present now you say
Swimming by the Beloved
Hand on black fin
I was abandoned When I grieved
We are here now you say
I was abandoned In my despair
We are here you say
You say
You fought
Out of love
You argued
Out of love
You gave
Out of love
Please child
Let us cradle you
The child is silent
The tide is slowing
The rock has crumbled away
A trickle of clear water bubbles
You will stay? says the child
We stay you say
Beloved is a whale
Singing in space
Singing to the stars
Am I lovable? says the child
You and Beloved
Earth and sky
Wind and trees
Moon and stars
Answer yes
Am I loved?
Yes
Yes
8/27/2007
Beautiful, isn’t it? But it’s not a sunset. The recent storms have taken away more beach and there are tons of new rocks and debris thrown around.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: finally.
I took this from North Beach at sunset three days ago, zoomed in. I got this wonderful silhouette of Protection Island. I am rapt.
I am submitting this to today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt: wrapped. Heh, heh, messing with words.
I took this through the window with my phone, so it’s a little fuzzy. Still, I love the flocks of bush tits when they come through.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt scintillate.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: relax.
BLIND WILDERNESS
in front of the garden gate - JezzieG
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