Day 45

33F today, pretty skies all day.  I ran 3.2km today, quite easily.  I met Kitty walking in the meadow, a neighbour who lost her husband about a year ago, shame.  She has an air of sadness about her now.  She has two exquisite Irish setters, and she takes in rescued cats, has 6 cats at the moment.  She looks as though she has Swedish ancestry, very fair, even though she is in her 60's, I think. 

Tim and I went for a walk at Ocean Lawn, this is Tim leaping in the wide open space, we saw only 2 other couples who hurried away, the wind was bitter but Tim took some gorgeous photographs.  The rocks there are low granite cliffs falling to the sea and the light played on them as the clouds drifted by. 

Tim has always made me laugh and we had a happy Valentine's Day, so I'm not quite sure why I did a pensive portrait, but there you are.  This is me looking out of the window, probably seeing more snow coming!  I like the hand here, it reminds me of my dad's huge hands, great big sausage-fingers, he had. 

I have been watching the pair figure-skating at the
Winter Olympics tonight and marvel at the grace of some of the skaters.  Imagine having such amazing co-ordination and agility.  I climbed a small tree today, remembering how much I loved climbing as a child, and was fearless then, climbing high and scaring my mother.  Today I climbed awkwardly up, sat in the tree for a while, then swung down like a monkey, which felt quite good, but there was nothing graceful about the entire experience, except maybe the sitting part, it was all touch-and-go the whole way!

Day 44

If I had to use my hands to tell how old I will be this year, I would have to hold up all my fingers 5 times, and then one hand. It was 28F today and I ran 2.43km, not too far because Molly is limping a little, getting old.  (She is nearly 2 hands old.)

I took this picture of Tim and a nuthatch at the Ipswich Wildlife reserve, where there are little birds who will come and eat from your hand at certain places in the forest.  They are chickadees, tufted titmouses and nuthatches, but my favourite are the little nuthatches, because they have very determined diminutive faces and they beep softly to themselves and each other almost constantly, even when they are on your hand.  Feeling that delicate momentary weight, the slight claws perching, the sweet little voice, makes you smile inside and out.

This is the man I have loved for more than 25 years now, and it is Valentine's Day tomorrow, so my self-portrait is the card I made for that, as we don't believe in buying cards, you have to make one and write a poem inside.

So here is a poem that I wrote a long time ago for Tim:

You enter my pathways,
Opening doors, letting light.
Green eyes grow leaves.

Sunlight warms my stones.
Your questions are bright birds
Which fly from dark cages.

And I will answer you,
My lover, brother, friend
How I am twined around your hair like grass.

I will listen to your ears.
I want to find the bones
I see in the shadow of your fingers.

Here is a map of my body.
My blood is yours,
For years of moments

Day 43

My gorgeous boys and girls last summer.  I wish we were all together tonight. 

I couldn't run today because it was parent-teacher conference day at school, so I had to leave home early as my first parent arrived at 8.05am.  It is really a pleasant day though because most of the parents who come are the ones who love art and whose children love art, so it is rather an ego-stroking fest, with the parents saying nice things about me and me saying nice things about their children.  I felt so sad for one parent whose daughter I have taught for 5 years. She is Haitian and lost her brother in the earthquake, exactly a month ago.  She said it took only 42 seconds for the quake to destroy more than 200 000 people.  It is virtually incomprehensible.

I drew a self-portrait like this when the boys were very little, it was on a day when everyone had been very needy and I felt overwhelmed!  Holding a boy in each arm, Jess standing on my feet, and Emma sitting on my head!  And now they are all grown-up!  And I am grown older, and we don't live in 16 Cross Street anymore.                                                        A little boy came into the art room when I was sitting there alone after lunch.  He didn't see me as he looked around and said aloud, "Cool!".  So I rolled backwards on my wheeled office chair and said "Hello".  He smiled at me so I asked him his name.  He peered at me carefully and then ran over to me and gave me a big hug!  He said, "My name is William and I'm 5 years old."  Funny how little children always show the number of fingers they are, but not really after they are 5.    I asked him if he wanted to draw and he loved my huge box of markers, 100 different colours!  He drew there quietly for a while until his mother, the school receptionist, came to find him.  

Such a dear little boy who warmed my heart, such an open and innocent soul.

Day 42

I have been wondering if all this blogging stuff is too self-indulgent.  Making a self-portrait every day, why?  Looking so carefully at myself every single day for a year?  Well, perhaps it furthers self-knowledge.  It is surely always good to observe and reflect, to know yourself better.  We are each, after all is said and done, all alone in our heads, no matter how much love we give and how much surrounds us.  And also my aim is to grow old as gracefully as possible, even though some days it is really difficult.  It is indeed a pity that we often do not admire and enjoy our young bodies.  Instead we are constantly worrying, "my nose is too big, my breasts are too small, my thighs are too fat", etc.  I sometimes want to tell my students that they are exquisite, that they should be aware of how lucky they are, how gorgeous, how alive, and that all they should do is LIVE.  

I think the trick to life is to find delight in the mundane.  Drawing helps you do that too, because no matter what you observe, a vase of flowers, a computer monitor, a tree, a pile of books and papers, even this aging face of mine, as you begin to draw, to scrutinize and contemplate the chiara and the scura, the light and the dark, the way shadow and luminosity juxtapose, the subject becomes beautiful. 

Molly and I ran 1.71 km today on Singing beach, it was cut short because as I stopped at the end to take a photograph, my thick ski-glove slipped out from where it was tucked under my arm, as a large wave surged on to the shore, and my reflexes told me to pick up the glove, but the wave was too fast and drenched the glove, my bare hand, and my shoes and socks!  It was VERY cold water, and I quickly ran back in a panic to the car, terrified of dying of cold, (yes, I know that is pathetic) or getting frostbite, or something.  My left hand was completely numb by the time I got back, but it quickly came to life again.  I have a dread of THE COLD, it is, for me, as horrifying as THE NOTHING in 'Never-ending Story'.

Day 41

Such a strange snow day with no snow!  The meteorologists were entirely wrong this time!  The wind is raging outside though tonight, and it is very cold now, and a dusting of snow on the ground.  Molly and I ran 2.8km today, and it would be nice to lope along in as carefree a manner as Molly does.  Ten years ago in South Africa I would never have imagined that I would be running with soft snow falling on my bare arms in America, a  crazy black dog following at my heels!

I watched an HBO movie on Winston Churchill this evening while I was washing up.  It made me ponder war.  I was born ten years after the second world war ended, but it was of course the defining experience for my parents' generation.  My dad was an officer in the British Airforce.  My mother was a WAF (women's auxiliary forces) in South Africa and they met while she was handing out uniforms to the new British troops who had just arrived in Cape Town.  The British troops had been on their way to Singapore, but their ship was torpedoed and they had to stop in at Cape Town Harbour instead. 

I grew up hearing Churchill's speeches, how he was a hero, Britain's saviour.  He was a truly brilliant orator, and he actually received the Nobel prize for Literature! In this movie they portray Clementine, his wife, as an intelligent woman who knew him well.  She once said, "I think Winston has played war games all his life, and now this one is real."   

So this is a picture of my mother during the war, before she had any children, before she was even married, I think.  Young and full of unlimited potential, and now her whole life has gone by and she is dead.  So brief, this life.  My sister often says that I am the spitting image of my mother, (she knew her for a lot longer than I did) and when I was younger I sometimes had people who had known her as a child or young woman come up to me on the street and say, "You must be Joan Webster's daughter!" without my mother even having been present!  

Day 40

Tonight I am missing my daughters who live so far away, too far.  They are both going through challenging times in their lives and it would be lovely to sit down and have a calming cup of tea with each of them. 

I remember having these two beautiful, dainty little daughters, long blonde plaits on heads brimming with imagination.  I had a friend who had two sons about the same age, and I thought she was not such great shakes as a mother because her house was always a wild rumpus of noise and mess, with broken branches in the garden and something likely to fall on your head if you ventured further than the front door.  And then I had my own boys and suddenly understood everything.

This is a little screech owl Tim and I saw at Hampton Beach.  Tim took some beautiful pictures of it which can be seen at his Flickr stream. 

I am cheating again because I am so tired.  We are expecting 8 - 12 inches of snow tomorrow, so I guess I will be extremely tired tomorrow night too, from all that shovelling! 

I did this watercolour last year from a very old pencil self-portrait of myself, so here I am young and beautiful, as one always is in paintings, with the lips of Angelina Jolie (?) with an owl on my head. 

When I was younger I was fascinated by owls, and made many ceramic owls, big and small, some of which rest in people's houses in Grahamstown and East London, and some of which have finally found their way to America and live on my mantelpiece and remind me of Emma, who as a small girl had a flock of them with which she would sleep, along with her teddy bear made by Granny.  Halfway through the night she would come into my bed, first plopping in her little family of 7 or 8 cold hard ceramic owls which poked me intermittently all through my restless sleep, while she lay snuggled against my other side with the teddy.

Day 39

It reached 31F today, just below freezing, the sun felt lovely on my face when I took Molly to the meadow before school. 

What a tiring day, the 8th graders were quite dilly today for some reason, they were almost bouncing off the walls in their exuberance!  My 6th and 7th grade students are better behaved than these classes!  I really enjoy their energy and they are quite productive, but quite a handful some days.  I am exhausted tonight after leaving home at 9am this morning, and only arriving home at 9.30pm from an ECBA Board of Directors' (beekeepers association).

These cairns have been lovingly made on a vague wall of rocks which forms a barrier between the sea and the road.  I love such intimations of creativity, they are always pleasantly surprising and unexpected.  Cairns are found all over the world, in many different cultures, often added to by other people, especially on mountains.  They signify respect for something, sometimes the dead, sometimes they signify a pathway, or the tallest point.  The German and Dutch words for cairn literally mean 'stone man', so my self-portrait today is as a cairn, although it looks a bit like Mrs Potato-lady.. 

Day 38

19F (-7C) with wind-chill again!  Little old Lily-cat loves being stroked, but will not be picked up (because she is 20 years old and arthritic), nor will she put her whole self on your lap, just the front legs (she likes to keep at least half her body independent).  We cut her nails today and she still will not have anything to do with Tim (Tim did the cutting, I did the holding tightly).

We spent the whole day at Salem State College Swimming Centre, where the boys swam in the Cape Ann district championships, with 8 schools participating.  They both swam really well, no medals, but placed in the top 7 in backstroke (Matt), butterfly and IM (Nick).  Amazing how you become one of those weird loud-shouting parents, all excited in the spectator gallery, willing your child on, as if it helps in any way.

So, by the time we got home and ate a very belated lunch, it was almost nightfall.  I ran to the meadow in the twilight and by the time I had finished 5 ups and downs of Heartbreak Hill it was almost pitch dark.  Molly still asked me to throw the ball, even though she couldn't see it!  Walking home through the dim forest I would have been lost if not for knowing the place so well, the way the path winds through the trees, and where there are still patches of ice which must be avoided, the location of thorn bushes out to get you, and protruding branches to elude.

Running in the dark you seem to go much faster than in daylight. I was speeding through the night with ease, my legs like pistons, my mind as clear as the sky. 

Day 37

22F (-5C) with wind-chill factor much lower, I think.  Molly and I went to the beach, where we were met with moody skies, snow-flurries, a tide way out, and  lovely hard sand on which to run!  I discovered how wonderful it is to run on a flat surface, rather than an uneven meadow!  "Beach" is Molly's second favourite word, after "walk", although it probably ties with "treat".

The ocean - it is where we go to rejuvenate.  I am always happier after I have been at the sea, lighter.  As e.e.cummings wrote, "For whatever we lose, like a you or a me, it's always ourselves we find in the sea."

I bought some daffodil buds on Friday and they are all blossoming out, like little shards of sunlight shining on my old oak table.  They were my mother's favourite flower, I think.  My grandmother, who was very petite, and from whom I inherited my artistic abilities, loved nasturtiums.  So as a child I chose daffodils and nasturtiums as my favourite flowers, and they still are.

Day 36

31F (-0.5C) A beautiful blue sky with small white scudding clouds today.  My legs were still aching a bit, so I gave them a little break, and only ran up and down Heartbreak Hill twice, then walked all through the icy meadows with the long-legged black dog.  There were some tracks in the shaded spots where the thin dusting of snow remained, but it was hard to see many.  I am looking for bobcat tracks, I would love to know if there are bobcats around here.  They were exterminated in Massachusetts in the 1800's but made a slow comeback when farmers left farms and the land reverted to forest. Apparently they are very shy, elusive creatures, about twice the size of a domestic cat, although that's probably 3 times our Lily, who is a very petite and very old cat.  

These are my lovely winter boots that my friend Markie got for me, warming up in front of the woodstove, waiting for when I have to fetch the boys in a little while.  They are made of real Australian sheepskin and wool, so that you don't have to wear socks, just slip your feet into the warm depths and you're all set, as they say in New England.   I live in them in the winter, whenever my feet are cold.  They are perfect for someone who hates wearing shoes at all!

Yes, I feel a little guilty for wearing real leather, after complaining about hunters, but the pseudo stuff makes your feet smell abominably, and I will get every last scrap of wear out of them. 
The meat or chicken that we eat two or three times a week is always bought at Whole Foods Market, so it is guaranteed that the animal it came from led a good life, walking and grazing (or, in the case of chickens, pecking about) in green fields, with sunshine and rain.

  

Day 35

About 15F (-9C) wind-chill today, utterly freezing wind, good grief!  My lips couldn't talk properly when I tried to praise Molly.   Ran about 2km, although I forgot my pedometer, so don't know for sure, but I have a pretty good idea of how many circuits make a km, so I think I did 2 today.  My legs are quite achy tonight, I wish I could just open up something in my knees and squirt some oil in there to loosen things up. 

Nick fell asleep in front of the woodstove this evening while reading Moby Dick.  Matthew took some pictures of him without a flash and accidentally moved the camera during the long exposure, but I love this one, it is the epitome of sleep.

My self-portrait has some of the things I love besides my family, some literal and some symbolic.

It always amazes me how differently we perceive the world, and how ignorant and nasty some of us are.  The other day a man came by and struck up a conversation while Tim was gazing at a hole in a tree, waiting for an owl to perhaps pop out and sun itself.  He was interested in seeing the owl and Tim thought he was a fellow birdwatcher, but it turned out he was out hunting coyotes.  I saw a coyote a couple of weeks ago, in the forest, and was blissfully happy after seeing it, they are so elusive, so cautious, possibly from dealing with idiots like this man.

Day 34

29F when I ran this morning, only managed 2.8km today, my legs were a bit sore still, from the 4k run on Sunday, perhaps.  I felt a bit pathetic actually, hope they are stronger tomorrow.  I'm sure they will be.  It was snowing lightly while I was running, and at one time the sun struggled out, and in South Africa we call sun with rain a monkey's wedding, so maybe this was a groundhog's wedding, with the snow glittering in the sunlight as it fell through the air.  I surprised the resident red-tailed hawk, it took off swiftly from a tree right next to the meadow-entrance as I came in, large and beautiful.

I heard the strangest sounding bird, calling again and again, and when I ventured towards the sound, making Molly stay, walking on to the snow-covered icy crust at refridgerator corner, I was stopped short by the sight of large male shoe-tracks in the new snow.  Amazing, this fear that is always with us as women, this fear of strange men, especially in lonely places, especially if you are South African.  I even thought he might be making the sound of the strange bird to lure me!  So I ran back fast, and every time I came back into the meadow for that loop of the circuit, I was wary and watchful.  I have rarely seen anyone in the meadow in 5 years, occasionally there will be a Dunkin Donuts coffee cup carelessly left on the bench, or there will be ski-tracks from someone cross-country skiing.  Once there were two men who were workers constructing a long driveway to a house just down from Heartbreak Hill.  They said they were interested in hunting deer, and asked me if I had seen any.  I said, "Oh, no, maybe once or twice" (I loathe and detest hunters). Then they both looked at me and asked if I had seen any "with a big rack" and I thought they meant a large buck with antlers, and they did, but they were also having me on about breasts, about my breasts, and they kind of sniggered to one another nastily.  I left quickly and when I was out of their sight, ran home as fast as I could. It is pathetic that we should live in such fear of the other half of society.  It is one of the things which outrages me.

And I had to clean the house today.  I drew this image on the dusting of snow on the trampoline, in case I didn't have time for a regular drawing tonight. 

Day 33

Woke up early early to make a packed lunch for Matthew who was going on an AP Bio field trip to a lab in  Boston.  Then left for school at 6.30, drove through frozen wastes until the sun came up and warmed my eyes.  I felt such sadness on the way to school for my son with a newly broken heart.  We are so attuned to our childrens' highs and lows, and not just when they are little things who can be drawn on to your lap and cuddled back to happiness.  When they are great big beautiful boys (and girls) it is a lot harder to comfort them.  On Sunday all three of us ended up lying on Matt's bed with him and then watching an episode of "The Mighty Boosh" (the peculiar humour of which is bewildering) on his little laptop to cheer him up. 

This is the dancing tree from the other side, and Molly (looking for a ball, of course).

Today, talking to all these different children at my school, from so many places, made me consider again the fact of being forever foreign in a foreign land.  It is at once pleasant, (you can criticize the country without being a part of the cause of what you are criticizing, feeling even slightly superior at times), and unpleasant (never being at home again, never having those old old friends with shared histories, never being at ease in familiarity).   But the experience also makes you more tolerant of people, kinder, I think.

Hence this self-portrait. 

Day 32.

I saw these two cars kissing in a parking lot the other day.

Still bitterly cold today, no running because of school, which was quite hectic!  I have no free periods on a Monday and the students are doing such amazing things, charcoal drawings with kneaded erasers, forest watercolours using masking tape for the trees, and block-printing for Africa!  (Which means a LOT of block-printing, not that they are for Africa).  All projects which require a lot of attention and aid from me, so rather exhausting, but when I looked around the art room before I left at about 5.45 this afternoon, I was delighted with the work, the room was like Ali Baba's cave, filled with jewels!
 

So this is my final word on January!  It's bitterly cold, freezes the blood, there are icicles dangling from the roof, endless snow to shovel, so, what else to do but keep warm, dancing in the frozen winter with this dancing tree as a partner!

Day 31

So, I have finished one month, eleven to go!  27F today (-2.7) and it felt warm.  And, I broke the boundary of 4km!  I ran 4.23km (2.62 miles) today, and quite comfortably too.  I am amazed. 

It was beautiful in the meadow, and I surprised a pair of American Robins, which look very similar to South African Cape Robins, which flew noisily away, their fat round tummies glowing orange.  And a male cardinal sang his downhill song, reminding me of my dad whistling.  

My beautiful boys and their little friend Chris, wearing the hat I knitted him for Christmas.  They have known Chris since he was born and they all love one another very much.


And here is my self-portrait, taken on a very chilly day when Tim and I went to Plum Island to look for snowy owls and bald eagles.  We didn't see any, only a few geese hunkered down at the far end of the beach.  It was very very cold that day, and the wind whistled around my head climbing up the flights of stairs to the lookout.  We were the only people for miles around, crazy South Africans!

Day 30

Frigid temperatures today, 17F (-8.3).  Ran 2.8km (1.73 miles).  It always amazes me how a body can warm itself so much with exercise.  I ended with just a long-sleeved t-shirt and tracksuit pants, having discarded my big coat, scarf, woolly hat, insulated ski-gloves and my hooded sweater too! 

Winter in New England is black & white, bare trees, snow, colourless grass and blackened humus and my eyes crave colour.  There are tulip buds in the stores and I have given them to quite a few friends, but I think tomorrow I will buy some for our house too.  They are so beautiful, they open their delicate velvet petals as soon they feel themselves in water.  I know that trees need the beauty sleep of winter in order to grow, but I wish it was a little shorter.

I found this cranefly drinking in my bathroom sink the other night, exquisite ethereal creature.

Nick told me about a speaker they had at their school yesterday who left everyone in tears.  The students all exited the auditorium in silence, just a few sniffs here and there.  The man was the father of a 7th grade boy who killed himself as a result of bullying 6 years ago in Vermont.  He has been giving this talk at schools ever since, in the hope that his son's death will not have been completely in vain.  He pointed out that bullying has taken on a new face with all our new technology, and cyber-bullying seems much much worse than regular bullying, because you can never get away from it, it's on Facebook, and AIM, and text-messaging, and this poor boy fell victim to the cruelty of other children.

I wonder if cruelty is the default behaviour in humans, that we learn kindness.  I remember being relentlessly bullied by girls when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade, and just to think of it wounds me with such immediacy still.

This is me as a girl, contemplating in an island of confusion. 

Day 29

A bright sunny day but frigid, with 0F wind-chill, that is -17.7C! A dusting of snow from yesteray.  I took Molly for a brief run, about 1km this afternoon, after Matthew and I had returned from his wisdom teeth operation in Boston. 

Hard to watch him go into the operating room and then wait an hour for it all to be over, and worry and knit in the drab waiting room.  He was really alert when it was over though, and talked the hind leg off a donkey, telling me everything that happened, because he remembered a whole lot, even though they told him he wouldn't remember anything.  It is called "conscious sedation", so I suppose there are people who recall bits of memory from the operation itself.

I got the awful news today that the son of my best friend from childhood  has ben diagnosed with leukaemia, so I have felt sad all day.  I was so happy tonight to receive an email which said that they had received a good prognosis from the initial testing, so that sounds a bit better!  Here's wishing great success to all the little warriors in Ben's body, battling the foe!

The wonders of modern technology allow me to take an image of my right hand and then look at it and draw it!  Because that is something my left hand can't do, and that is draw.  But I accidentally bumped a key which suddenly zoomed in on the photograph, so that I was enthralled by screen-high fingers!  Which is what you see behind the hand, the pointing finger.  That ring I have had for about 20 years, it is battered and bent, but I love it.  Tim gave it to me.  The turtle was given to me by Tim also, and the lower one on my ring finger has dolphins leaping, although you can't see that from the drawing - this one is from my ex-mother-in-law.  The one above it was given to me by Emma, I think,and her little baby lovebird bit off some pieces in 1997, but it all remained intact and I love it. 

Day 28

27F and it snowed again today! This is Molly last year around about this date as I didn't take any pictures in the meadow today.  What deep deep snow we had this time last year!  Perhaps we are still in for heavy snow this winter, sigh.....  I ran 2.91km today, although it felt like more than yesterday, but the pedometer doesn't lie, does it?  Sometimes it is really hard the whole way, but other times, like today, I get into a rhythm which feels pretty good.  I never thought I would experience anything like this.  I've lived all my life believing that I couldn't run.  Never say never indeed!

This look is skeptical, and also a bit thoughtful, wondering how Matthew's wisdom teeth extraction operation is going to go tomorrow morning.  Also, I'm thinking of some friends of ours who have just adopted a little baby and they are struggling with learning her cries and her needs.  She is a very lucky little girl, and no doubt they will soon all be a unit, but Tim and I were remembering how shocking it is to have a newborn baby, this new little delicate fragile thing, for whom you are utterly responsible, and it breaks your heart when they cry so tragically with colic or wind or whatever. 

The wind is howling outside and I'm going to bed!

Day 27

35F (1.6C) Beautiful sunny morning 3.47km (2.15miles)  The day began frustratingly with me finishing the Beeline newsletter, my monthly nemesis!  I had a lovely run though, my best in days, because it is so much easier to run on bare ground, not covered in snow!  The entire Heartbreak Hill is free of snow, and my snow angel is no more.  A picture of Molly at her shrine - THE BALL TREE.

Nick and I had to go to a dermatologist, about 40 miles away, so it was a long time driving, especially coming home, in rush hour. I looked over at Nick when he didn't respond to something I said, to see that he was asleep, somehow small and curled up, like a Great Dane lying there, and I felt such a rush of love for this long-limbed child of mine. He has always fallen asleep in cars, and prams, and supermarket trolleys, since he was a baby, whereas Matthew, his twin, always sat up, attentive and wide-eyed the entire time Nick slept.  And I remembered how many times I have had to rescue him and get him to a doctor, or a hospital, this accident-prone boy!  When he was four years old, I carried him about three miles from the Village Green to the doctor's office in High Street one day when his eardrum burst, and he was in such pain, lying on my back, a dead weight!  But I carried him all the way, and went quite fast, and managed to hold Matthew's hand most of the way too, because that is what mothers do, they rescue their children, they make them better, they protect them, like fierce fierce tigers.

I had to have a mole biopsied, so I have this huge target-like band-aid on my face, and look like a dork.  So this is my picture for today, looking a bit down, and downward.  But I'm really feeling fine. 

Day 26

Saw this rocky heart in the snow on Sunday.  The snow in the meadows has probably mostly melted now because of all the rain and high temperatures we have had, yesterday and today.  But by Friday apparently we will be well below freezing again! 

It is 4 years since my mother died.  Jess, one of her granddaughters,  wrote on FB, "Four years ago today an amazing woman died. She was the rock of our family and joy and light personified. She loved her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren with all her heart and soul and never failed to make each and every one of us feel special. She was an inspiration to me and I miss her everyday."  

I miss being loved like that, no one ever loves you like your mother loves you.  She possessed a bright swift mind and a broad knowledge, and would discuss anything and everything.  She had wonderful hands which made so many beautiful things, knitting and cross-stitching and creating many gifts for her family and friends.  She was beloved by many many people in her long life.  She taught me how to love.

For the self-portrait, I just kind of doodled, almost, on an old piece of paper, without looking at a mirror, I always end up in my drawings looking like a Native American for some reason.