Today I was cleaning out some drawers and came  across a file entitled

"Late Bloomers." And, before I tossed it, I reread about some famous people who did not hit their stride, or realize their true talent until later in life. I think of myself as a late bloomer in that, I always wanted to be a writer, and did not begin to write seriously until well into my fifties. And, I was 67 when I published my first novel, "To See a Sundog." So many of us in life are consumed with responsibilities of jobs, marriages, children, family etc. that, unless we have made our passion or interest a career, we do not have much time for it until later in life. What is gratifying to know is that it is never too late to do what we do  well, and  to do what we love.

 I think about Julia Child who did not serve a French meal until she was 36, and Susan Boyle who debuted with her magnificent voice at the age of 48. So many late bloomers were considered "failures" at an early age, and often did not do well in school. Thomas Edison's teacher told him that he was unable to learn; Albert Einstein had a difficult time learning language and failed his college entrance exam. Winston Churchill failed sixth grade and Isaac Newton's school work was considered poor. Henry Ford was evaluated as "showing no promise." F.W. Woolworth's employers refused to allow him to wait on customers because "he didn't have any sense." Like many of us,  I am prone to discouragement, and tend to give up when I cannot see the value in something. Or, I have second thoughts about the worth of the endeavor, or if it has any meaning. But, then I discovered that if it has meaning to me, it is worth doing, and again, it is never too late. As I write this, I have three different books in the "pipeline," and all are substantially begun. These "late bloomers" encourage me to continue......

I remember a quote from my High School, The Summit, that was nicely framed and easily read each time I walked down the hall  to my  classrooms. It said, "Greatly begin though thou have time but for a line....low aim, not failure is crime." I have never forgotten this, and it continues to inspire the writer in me. If you want to read more about Late Bloomers, go to the BLOG of Debra Eve.

Today I am featuring some of the pages from my Art Journal Books.....I love creating these art books, and use a variety of medians to express ideas, writings, sayings, art and amazing color. I will add a few here for today's entry, and for you to enjoy. I have finished four of these books which will be featured in an art show in Cincinnati in mid September.

MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS

MY BEAUTIFUL MOTHER AND ME

Last year in the early weeks of May, I watched, out my window, a Mother Robin build her nest in a tree very close to our house. The nest was so close that I could have reached out and held the nest in my hand if I so desired, which, of course, I wouldn't. I write this simply to tell you how close I felt to this Mother Robin, and how closely I watched, from beginning to end, the hard work she did to build her nest; the patience she demonstrated while sitting on her nest waiting for her babies to break through; the tenacity she showed bringing food back and forth to her young off springs before they could fly; the proficiency with which she dropped food into her babies mouths, and finally the endurance she demonstrated waiting for the last of her four babies to get up the courage to  fly away as she called to them, from a distance, to come and join her. The whole process seemed to me to take about 2 months, and I was a faithful follower.  I am quite taken with nature and the lessons I learn observing nature in all its complexities and manifestations of life, and this was such a special time to observe nature at its best and also, motherhood at its finest.   
Sunday is Mother's Day, and I always think of my mother who did so much for me, and for my six brothers and sisters growing up. If you scroll down to Mother (not mothers) in my menu, you will see the poem I wrote about my mother on this BLOG some years ago. Say whatever you want about mothers, but in my case, she was one of two people in my growing up years that I always knew was on my side no matter what stupid thing I had done. . She saved me more than once! So in memory of my mother, and as a tribute also to my two wonderful daughters who helped me to be the mother I am to them, I share a poem that I wrote some years ago called
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS

There is a strong and delicate thread
That spreads through the heart
Of mothers and daughters
And binds them together, forever

Like bright breasted Robins
 Who sew their nests
For hours and hours, stitch by stitch
A mother and daughter
Tie in time
Intricate moments
That are one of a kind

And just as the Robin and her mate
Bring different things to the nest
Like a twig, a leaf, or a feather
Mothers and daughters bring
A moment, a thought, a secret
To share with each other

And then,
A walk, a talk, a manner
Just their own

And like the bird who depends on its nest
In all kinds of weather
Mothers and daughters depend on each other

In all of nature and mankind
Nothing binds
Like mothers and daughters.

AWESOME DAUGHTER MICHELLE

                                                 FABULOUS DAUGHTER KERRI

HORSES

Today is the Kentucky Derby; the run for the roses....which has some history in my life. My mother rode horses growing up; loved them; went to horse races; read the track sheets like a pro; bet on them and often won. I was always amazed. I am sure that when Mother and Dad moved their family to Cincinnati in 1942, mother was as happy about being  closer to those beautiful southern horse farms in Kentucky as she was about the charm of Cincinnati along the Ohio River. My mother loved horses so much that, for many years, two weeks before the running of the Derby, Mother and Dad took their children out of school to drive to the Keenland Racetrack where the Derby "two year olds" raced before the big event. Cincinnati is so close to Kentucky (just across the Ohio River) that, every year at this time, there are a plethora of parties and celebrations to watch the Derby and sing "My Old Kentucky Home." To this day, my family still calls me from Cincinnati (I am the only sibling of seven not living there) to tell me the name of the horse that has been put into the "pool" to win the prize money should I have the winning horse. Two years ago, my niece's son, then five years old, won the pot after his mom put his name in the "hat." When my sister called  to Chicago to tell him that his horse won, his answer to her was, "I have a horse?" One of the funniest things I had heard ever! Because my mother loved horse so much,she was anxious to have her children learn to ride, which I did at a place in Cincinnati called "Hilltop Farms." I can still experience the feelings of trepidation and fear I had on those horses, and the terror I experienced as my two brothers went galloping forward ahead of me, encouraging my horse to do the same. I don't think that I ever got over my fear, and the last time that I was on a horse was when I was living in Washington, D.C. where I was riding with a friend in Rock Creek Park, and my horse took off hell-bent for the barn. Because I was not in control of the horse, I intentionally slid off sideways (rather like I had learned to do skiing when I was going to fall), and went head-first into a gully. The horse and I had portaged two roadways where cars were going by quickly, and I was afraid that, on one of these roads, while the horse was galloping back home, the horse and I would have the misfortune to meet a car. I think that my rolling off saved my live, perhaps. I did receive a concussion and was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. This was my last ride on a horse. Today, my granddaughter has begun to take riding lessons and loves it so much that she even offered, at age 7, to give up half of her allowance to continue. Her great-grandmother would love to hear that! Her grandmother, on the other hand, wishes her well.

Do you ever have days that feel like this? There was a time when I did not understand modern art very well, but as I live more and more in this somewhat bizarre and troubled world, I think that artists like Pablo Picasso have depicted modern culture quite well. I can identify today with this painting of the Spanish Woman in Blue because today, this is just how I feel....blue, confused, out of form, isolated, as was Picasso when he painted this of Francoise Gilot, and troubled as this lady appears to be. This gal certainly shows a sense of anxiety in her eyes. That one eye is painted yellow instead of black might be hopeful,  but today, that concept would be a stretch for me.  I don't know if that was the intent of the artist, that bad is always balanced with good...one can only dream. For me, this  painting seems to be in flow; in flux without a sense of groundedness which again, I can relate to today.Yes, this painting has meaning for me as I struggle with some life issues that perhaps plague us all. Today I relate to the Spanish Lady in Blue by Pablo Picasso and hope for a better day ahead, perhaps the kind of day that Wordsworth wrote about in his poem, "Daffodils."

Poetry

I actually did not know that last Wednesday, April 25th was national Poetry Day! I love poetry and I love to write poetry so I was disappointed that this day got past me without my knowledge. However, as fate would have it, I had a small Brunch that morning for some friends, one of whom is blind, and I thought it would be fun to read some poetry aloud, which we did. And one of the poems I chose was the poem, "Keep a Poem in your Pocket" by Beatrice Schenk de Regiers which seemed to be the theme for the day. The poem says:

"Keep a poem in your pocket
and a picture in your head
and you'll never feel lonely
at night when you're in bed
********************
The little poem will sing to you
the little picture bring to you
a dozen dreams to dance to you
at night when you're in bed.
***********************
So-----
Keep a poem in your pocket
and a poem in your head
and you'll never feel lonely
at night when you're in bed.

I actually have three favorite poems. One is "Daffodils" (William Wordsworth) which, at one time, I could recite by heart. Another favorite, with a similar theme, is " The Lake Isle of Innisfree" (William Butler Yeats) and when I was in Ireland with my mother, sister and niece...we saw this isle from a distant shore, and my sister, Maureen, recited the entire poem from memory. It must speak to our Irish souls.Both these poems paint a space of wonder and tranquility to behold at the moment but, equally important, to take the image with you to bring joy when you are in places that are not as lovely as these.  A third poem that I love is "Ulysses" (Alfred, Lord Tennyson) especially the last 26 lines that begin, "There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail..... In this poem, Ulysses is saying that, though his life is coming to an end, he has at least one more good sail in him, and he is going to continue on in life doing what he has always loved to do; that age will not deter from living his life to the fullest until he is gone. I like this sentiment. I too wish to live life to the fullest until I can no more, and enjoy doing the things I love to do; one of which is writing poetry. So I will add one of my most recent poems that is neither thoughty (as my Dad would say) nor profound...perhaps just one we can all relate to, and one that was fun to write.

THE CLUTTERED TABLE BY THE DOOR

Oh cluttered table by the door
Keeper of family treasures
And things that suddenly appear
Placed here upon your table top
Car keys
Overdue books
Letters to be sent
Bills to be paid
What else has been laid
Upon your table top?
 What other trinkets
Besides the dust gathering here?
Invitations
Salutations
A letter from a friend (rare)
Rubber bands
Ball point pens
Assorted change
Ah, such a range
Of meaningless clutter
Oh brother!
Just so much stuff
To put away
To get ready for another day....
When other things
Find their way to your table top.

Another Birthday

Today I thought I would talk about birthdays having just celebrated mine over the Easter weekend; actually, Good Friday to be exact. Throughout my life, I have also had my birthday fall on Easter, so I have had to celebrate my day with "the good news" and the Easter Bunny. These days I am fortunate to share it with my eight year old granddaughter, Sara, who now has a birthday one day before mine, so  we celebrate our special day together. As I was thinking about birthdays, I went back in my memory to think about some of those special birthdays that were memorable for me. The first one I remember is my own eighth year birthday, only because I have a picture of all the kids who came, standing in front of our first house in Cincinnati, Ohio. We look like quite a motley group, and I also notice that I invited my childhood arch enemy, standing next to my best friend. Mother insisted on doing that back then to keep the peace which was quite smart of her, actually. The second memorable birthday was when I turned 16 and I could drive. Little did I know that the bloom would soon be off the rose as I then became the chauffeur for all of my younger 4 sisters, and the errand person for my mother. We had an eight passenger station wagon, and I became every one's ride to school, and  the means of travel for my friends who did not yet have "wheels." It was somewhat like having a summer cottage...friends came out of the woodwork! The next year was memorable in that I did not get what I asked for; instead getting a set of golf clubs with lessons at our club which I had little interest in at the time. I even skipped the Saturday morning lessons, instead, picked up my best friend and went out to breakfast. Dad always wondered why I was not a better player after those "lessons." Today, I am so grateful for those golf clubs as I have enjoyed the game  tremendously with my husband and friends all my adult life. Skipping forward some years until my 50th when we had a big shindig with friends and family, and our neighbors put up, in our yard, one of those gigantic commercial signs that read, "We think it is nifty that Gretta is turning 50!" Funny and fun! At 60, I was vacationing in California and, by mail, my daughter sent me a special book where she had compiled e-mails, testimonials and special greetings from all of my family and friends etc. I sat there at the restaurant reading, laughing and crying! What a treasure this book is! Sixty-five was elegantly celebrated  at a beautiful restaurant here with  family and friends in attendance, and then for birthday 70, I returned to Cincinnati where my Summit classmates and I celebrated our birthdays together at the beautiful home of one of our classmates, Florance Connelly Koetters who provided an elegant celebration for all of us. Through all the years I have had, to honor my life, I have tried to remember all those people who came before me, to help make my life what it is today. I love what Warren Buffett refers to as "the ovarian lottery," in which he says that he won the lottery the day that he was born. I also won the lottery!