Peppermint Pigs, Not Pickles

Peppermint PigsI still remember about two decades ago being amazed that a Christmas enthusiast such as myself had never heard of Peppermint Pigs—hard-candy peppermint (pig-shaped of course) broken into sharable pieces for good luck in the new year. I also recall learning about the Christmas Pickle, but due to studio ventilation issues at the time, I opted for pig models over vinegar.😉

I enjoyed creating this piece a few years back for my talented friend, DS Levy. ‘Twas my first crack at a peppermint family🎄 click to check out DS Levy’s creative mind!

a mother’s pride

thanks to people’s generosity, max’s friend has a round trip ticket for the holidays
top left (Christmas 2017, max’s beautiful sister Caroline holding Mojo the wiener dog and to the right – max)

bottom right (max’s 2017 high school graduation snap)

hairband, painting in Emerge Gallery

Very excited that my painting “hairband” is being selected by some media outlets for Emerge Gallery’s – Primar(il)y Red Exhibit! This first link is for the Daily Freeman

This next link is to the Poughkeepsie Journal
TSupport the ARTS! Emerge Gallery has fabulous – one-of-a-kind – ornaments available for the holidays!

4:20 am

My poem “4:20 am” published in the weekly Avocet – a magazine focusing on nature and all its breathtaking wonder.

Baby Elf

my poem “4:20 am” (attached below) is in the weekly Avocet – issue #262 –
 Avocet link if you’d like to submit writing to this important publication for Mother Earth

 

4:20AM

frost creeps into the holes of my old moccasins

the taffy-stretched shadow of a red sunset maple

reaches across the dark grass

as if she too

desires the moon’s infinite perfection

stars tuck away in their opaque shells

this is autumn’s whisper

 

I peek through my eyelashes

must commit to memory

must etch my soul with rehearsed minutes

before tomorrow’s living

rubs out this wonder

 

4:30AM

I remain frozen in my silent place

knowing the sun will wipe away

the beautiful moon

this pristine silent moment

don’t want to go back inside a walled house

 

wish I could honestly tell you

a love affair with nature

enticed me from my bed

 

at 4:15 AM

my Dachshund needed to pee

baby elf sketch created a few years back with pencil

my pink dog

dear God
I seem to have lost my faith
the pixie-haired girl stuck
to a weathered pink dog with stale bubblegum
has stumbled too low
to be found in my dreams
her memories as diaphanous as Christmas spirit
present only if you’re willing to believe
Lord, somewhere while seeking gold
my pick-axe and pan rusted
jewels of this earth
fake gems plastered in false promises
my pink pup disintegrated long ago
nothing to grab onto now
no faith to embrace
no shield to burnish
stamped with the devil’s pitchfork
locked inside life’s eternal circle
the sign of peace
we alight here in this place
our time measured in a fish eye blink
lays out no global welcome mat
too many starving toes crowding “welcome”
and the rubber rainbow has discolored
beneath this vast azure roof
no one shares a meal together
I’m gonna tell you something, Lord
despite this miraculous ability to hate
that we’ve been granted
my greatest fear
is the moment
I believe these words
I’ve just written
the pink dog is still tucked away safely inside my heart

My Charlie

My Charlie

 

magical words, miraculous changes

it has been said
passed down from yuletide lips
Charles Dickens saved Christmas
not the man, ’twas the book
his story, we all know
if you don’t (your library copy might have gotten jammed in an 1843 chimney)

Industrial Revolution spinning at warp-speed
factory holidays are ghost shadows
we are living in the fast-pacing present–more is better
our dull, simple past soiled with slumming traditions–less was less
one floor above sweating basement workers, the future appears bright and shiny
a young boy’s father gets locked up in debtors’ prison
the child Charles, now forced to labor in a “rat-infested boot-blackening factory”

these formidable memories haunt Dickens

I imagine Charles back then
beneath winter’s moonlight
childhood terrors like bony hands slamming rusted leonine door knockers
he summons these all-too-vivid specters to do battle with his benevolent muse
the war won
A Christmas Carol is born

“…in 1867 Dickens reads A Christmas Carol. One of the audience members,
Mr. Fairbanks (a scale manufacturer) was so moved that he decided to break custom
and give his workers Christmas Day off and not only did he close the factory,
he gave turkeys to all his employees.”

magical words can inspire hearts to make miraculous changes

Little Tree

Little Tree

Charles Dickens, true to his words became an exceptional philanthropist. “…the welfare of the nation’s children was at the top of his list of concerns, and he used his pen and his considerable dramatic and oratorical powers to raise awareness of the plight of poor children and to raise money for children’s charities…”

sources in order of quoted appearance: Uncle John’s, Christmas Collection (yes, the Bathroom Reader, please don’t judge where I sometimes read😉), charlesdickensinfo.com, hharp.org

if my little poetry book love of the monster helps one heart, that would be a gift I’d keep trying to give😘

5 am peaceful, poem published in the Avocet

5 am peaceful

wishing it were contented spirits
dusting the cement grass with glitter
not winter’s freeze

my dachshund’s paw prints
sweet as a postcard
one might send a faraway lover

I linger in the numbing quiet
let the moment warm this blanketed silence
hushed low like swimming beneath water
where despair drowns then floats away
in bubbles and dancing reflections

don’t want to twist the frozen doorknob
and go back inside
I’d love to remain out here
5 am
with the sparkling dust
and all that glitters
in the beauty of this silence
when the world is so peaceful

Rudolph Hug

Rudolph Hug

drawn a few years back with watercolor marker, acrylic, and a dab of prisma pencil