Winter’s Art is Mysterious, Complex, and Still Unexplained

Several years ago, my eldest son gave me a book for Christmas called “The Snowflake – Winter’s Secret Beauty,” written by Kenneth Libbrecht and photographed by Patricia Rasmussen.

I was fascinated by the enlarged microscopic photos, but even more intrigued by the fact that scientists even today cannot fully explain why no two snowflakes are alike or how each is created with such specificity.

Quoting Libbrecht, “The wonder of snowflakes is how they are fashioned into such complex and symmetrical shapes with no blueprint or genetic code to guide construction. How do they develop into such intricate structures? Where is the creative genius that designs the never ending variety of snow-crystal patterns?”

I’m a believer and a “Creationist” so I’m perfectly content knowing that God our Father created the earth and everything in it.  The Lord God enjoyed creating such beauty for us and used eternal mathematical principles to mold and shape our universe.

Libbrecht explains that “Crystalline branches form around a nucleus of microscopic dust, creating a one-of-a-kind design. Because it weighs next to nothing, a snow crystal may take hours to fall – finally landing where photographer Rasmussen’s amazing micro-photography can capture the fleeting beauty and complexity of nature’s art.

“Rain does not produce snowflakes. Rain simply turns into frozen water becoming sleet. A frozen raindrop does not become a patterned snowflake with ornate patterning and symmetry. Snowflakes are the product of a rich synthesis of physics, mathematics, chemistry and temperature. No two are alike, but their uniqueness is soon lost on the ground where they clump together into formless lumps of ice.

Henry David Thoreau said in 1856: “How full of the creative genius is the air in which these (snowflakes) are generated! I should hardly admire them more if real stars fell and lodged on my coat.”

As a kid, I loved folding paper and seeing how intricately I could cut out a flake with my scissors. Usually my stars had four points or eight. Our class would decorate our windows with the many patterns each student had made. In retrospect, these simple designs were a far cry from the intricate patterns that fell on our tongues at recess.

A man by the name of Wilson Bentley, a farmer from Vermont, photographed a real snowflake in 1885 by attaching his microscope to his camera. Snowflake photography became his lifelong passion. In the course of 46 years, he captured more than 5,000 snow-crystal images on the old-style glass photo-graphic plates and scientists and hobbyists have been photographing and studying them ever since.

Have you ever paused to study the intricate designs and patterns that land on your lapel when a blizzard occurs? The fluffy, large flakes that fall during a massive storm are not as detailed or crystallized as the ones that fall during colder weather. The big ones melt quickly because they are full of ice water.

Einstein wrote “What I Believe” in 1930: “The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.”

Next time you find yourself complaining that it’s bitter cold or that you’re home-bound, bundle yourself up and get outdoors with a magnifying glass. Study the exquisite beauty found in those ice crystals that fall as snowflakes. Use your eyes to appreciate and see. Awaken your imagination to the miracles that exist around you.

New Beginnings – A Ring of Hope in the New Year

"Twigs and Twitters" 11x14 oil on canvas

The bells are sounding, balloons are dropping, fireworks are exploding. A chorus of “auld Lang syne” rises on the crisp air. Couples kiss, and a glimmer of hope glazes every eye. Old things are gone, but not forgotten. The New Year is upon us.

Remembered are the things we’ve done that need a “do over.” The mistakes we’ve made that haunt our thoughts. The angry words spoken now hanging heavy on our list of regrets. Perhaps next year will be better, we think. If I just try harder, maybe everything will be all right.

The problem is we can never get better on our own. No matter how hard we try, alone we usually fail. Some people add prayer to the equation which gives them strength. Others need the encouragement of family or friends. Alone, we may cave in or hold a pity party in our honor. We may sink into depression. Together we become strong.

No wonder groups like Alcoholics Anonymous have a buddy system to keep each other on track. They also look to a higher power than their own. There is no shame in depending on others, especially God. There is no dishonor in failing to achieve alone what you desire.

(First lay-down of acrylic paint on 11x14 canvas) Decided to eliminate egg-beaters!

Self esteem is increased when we refuse to give up. It is strengthened when we get back up after we fall and try again. I’m battling my own problems. My eyesight is not as good as it used to be and the monovision contact lenses I wear make it difficult to see perspective and detail accurately even with the aid of glasses. Arthritis in my hands is making it increasingly difficult to paint or draw a straight line. I don’t have the mastery and control I once did.

We all have challenges we need to cope with and problems that arise each day. The New Year’s lighted torch can inspire us with hope as we overcome discouragement. Like Olympic runners who keep their eyes on the goal, we must keep our dreams and hopes in clear focus. If we falter, it’s usually because we take our eyes off the prize. 

When I give my “pep talks” I’m usually the audience I have in mind. Of all people in the world, I need those words of encouragement the most. If my words can help others, too, then I’m pleased. 

I wish you a happy and successful New Year, dear friends. Don’t give up, because I’m counting on you to show me the way!

(Work-in-progress) More layers of paint.

The Grass always feels Greener Between your Toes

"Looking Outward" 3-D acrylic on glass window
with canvas behind, dog between.

The days of summer are behind us unless, as my husband says, “You live in the Tropics.” If you’re one of the lucky ones, you’re still enjoying it and walking bravely where others fear to tread. When I first encountered the lizards, snakes and other vermin running across my pathway, I wasn’t sure I wanted to walk barefoot in the grass. I was still plagued by memories of Washington where the morning after a mowing the velvet grass was covered with dew and mammoth snails that came out of hiding. After the sight of them, I never allowed my virgin feet to walk through that grass again! 

Children never think about “What Lurks Beneath.” They run barefoot, tumble and roll in the sweet smelling carpet without a moment’s hesitation. They’re uninhibited. I have to hand it to them. There’s something about walking barefoot on a green lawn or plunging your feet into warm soft sand that brings you closer to the earth and fills your heart with greater appreciation for the simple things of life.

 The people who garden here in Florida are covered from head to toe. Not only are there boots on their feet, but they wear hats, gloves, and long-sleeved shirts even in the heat of summer. You never know what’s going to jump out at you.

 
One of our land stewards at church came running inside after he’d poked his head into a dumpster. A wasp or bee stung him on the nose, and being super allergic, he was in a panic. After dousing his nose in cold water, he took off like a flash for a dose of epinephrine.

My fear of spiders goes way back to a near-death tangle with a brown recluse. I was hospitalized for ten days, had gangrene and serious blood poisoning. It’s no wonder that I’m always looking out of the corner of my eye for anything creepy and crawly.

 
So, you see, while you’re complaining about the cold up north and the impending snow, perhaps my sorry lament has made you feel better. While I’m swatting mosquitoes, you’re enjoying the crisp and colorful fall leaves. I’m sweeping palm frond seeds off my porch for the second time today, but you may be witnessing that first gentle coating of white sparkling snow.

 

It’s all relative of course. The grass is always greener in somebody else’s front yard. If we take time to appreciate the here and now, we’re the better for it. Smell the roses when they’re blooming. Enjoy the crunch of leaves underfoot. Taste the snowflakes while they’re clean and untouched. Enjoy the sunshine – bless the rain. Live your life to the fullest.

"Sea Breeze" acrylic on 2" deep wrap canvas

What's for Dinner?

I can't help myself. When the calendar reaches January, my mind conjures up images of winters past with snow and blowing cold. Even though I live in Florida, come January I get that "rumbley in my tumbley" for a crock full of homemade soup.

I love soup. I know it's not a guy thing, and nothing like real meat and potatoes, but it's user friendly. No matter what you put in the pot, it comes out smelling and tasting like fine wine or the best in epicurean cooking. And when you're done, you feel like you've accomplished something.

In the winter, soup warms your bones. In tough times, it fills your stomach. When there are many mouths to feed, you can thin and stretch soup to fill every hungry mouth. People who turn their noses up at leftovers, slurp down every sumptuous bite that is hidden between stirs of a bubbling pot of melding flavors.

Soup is like life itself: a pinch of this, a dab of that, some bittersweet, some sugar, some spice mixed together with faith, hope and love. Simmering through the highs and lows, the combination becomes the essence of a life well lived; a life remembered.

Is it any wonder that my favorite channel is the food channel? I believe that people who can decorate cakes with sculpted roses, create memorable recipes, and present with style can match any artist's creativity. Come to think of it, that soup is so colorful I see shapes forming, values changing, and my imagination soaring just like it did over my alphabet soup when I was a kid.

Got brain freeze and painter's block? Get back to basics and warm up with a bowl of hot yummy soup. Happy New Year everybody!