Let’s Live with Open Eyes and Open Land

Posted on January 12, 2015 by AM Roselli

My Friends,
“…No human being can live without healthy land, clean water, and the diversity of life that thrives on this planet. Taking care of what takes care of us makes practical sense, and maybe more than that for me, morally and spiritually, it’s just the right thing to do.” – Virginia Kennedy

I greatly admire ‘open land’ champion and advocate, Virginia Kennedy. In NY, as Otsego Land Trust’s Executive Director, Ms. Kennedy has dedicated herself to saving our rapidly disappearing green vistas. “Otsego Land Trust has been named to the Land Trust Alliance National Land Trust Excellence Program, one of 70 land trusts from over 1900 organizations nationwide to be selected…Executive Director, Virginia Kennedy, has also been invited to join the Leadership Program...”

Besides serving as a passionate environmental steward, Ms. Kennedy and her husband Kevin have raised three children who’ve blossomed into magnificent adults. Daniel, Joseph and Marygrace are my wonderful nephews and niece. And yes, Ms. Kennedy is my brilliant sister. Though Virginia is only one year older, she’s about one hundred years wiser. She’s a role model to emulate in every way (except maybe her singing voice 😉 ).

The environment weighs on the scales of humanity. It’s up to us to keep it balanced.

Daniel detail

Joey detail

Marygrace detail

Thank you. May you dream all the world is healthy as are its children.

Planet Balance created yesterday. Platinum children: Dan, Joey, Marygrace painted several years ago upon my mother’s request (I’ll never forget painting 10 sets of teeth for Nana).

Ra, Ra, Cursive No Mah

Posted on January 8, 2015 by AM Roselli

My Friends,
“In 1928, in Egypt, a strange device is found by an expedition. In the present days, the outcast linguist Dr. Daniel Jackson is invited by a mysterious woman to decipher an ancient hieroglyph in a military facility.” – Stargate. The giant husband was watching this 1994 ‘futuristic’ movie last night.

In the brief synopsis above the words, linguist, decipher and hieroglyph whisper like hidden pyramid treasures. Between fake Ra maiming humans and an awkward linguist deciphering glyphs, Stargate fashioned a perfect springboard for utilizing my Egyptian fella and chatting about the demise of handwriting. Centuries before we touched screens, our fingers created cryptic images, developed fascinating symbols and pressed elegant writing implements in thought.

In the Fall of 2014, the giant husband and I attended the delicate daughter’s Honor Society Ceremony. Yes, we were proud. She works very hard and strives to do well. The irony in this celebratory evening was that many bright students, the delicate daughter included, took a long time signing the Honor Ledger. Signing in cursive didn’t come naturally to them. And why would it, when third grade was the last time they practiced loops and lines.

Today while we record our history electronically, many students struggle with the very concept of handwriting. Human history was born the instant we began writing it down. Our ‘current’ history is saved to digital devices, removable media and clouds in the ozone. A solar flare, an electrical burst…yikes! We might want to rethink the importance of handwriting especially since synthetic paper can be made from recycled plastic. We can label the return to handwriting – Retro Ink. Maybe the kiddies will think it’s something cool. And perhaps we could use a slogan like – When you think, put it in ink!
Ra is the Egyptian Sun God and Father of the Gods. He symbolizes light, warmth and growth.

We grow by learning. We learn by reading. We read by writing… Thank you. May you dream of sailing on beautiful cursive letters with golden sails.

Ra created about one month ago for what reason I’m not sure other than to say I initially was planning to do some sort of bird… The pencil wants what the pencil wants. 🙂
Stargate Movie synopsis quote from IMDb.com

Sending thoughts of peace to France…

A Crime of Crayons

Posted on January 5, 2015 by AM Roselli

A Crayon Crime

It seemed in 1973 everyone in school had 64 crayons – everyone – except me. On the day in question, desperation had clouded my judgement. It had corrupted my creative sensibility. I was ten at the time and in dire need of 64 colors. I had Crayola’s 24 pack which included colors for growing robust apple trees, fluid blue skies and abstract butterflies. It wasn’t enough. I needed more pigment. I coveted the built-in sharpener too.

One day while shopping with my mother and 2 other siblings, fate waxing at my feet, divine intervention struck. On this ominous morning, I glanced down at the beige store tiles. My disbelieving eyes engaged my sleeping brain. My little fingers snatched up the crumpled dollar on the floor. Much to my horror I discovered it was one-half of a paper dollar, and the other half was nowhere in sight. Nothing mattered. My heart was jolting in 64 magnificent colors. My brain was a prism of planning. “Art cannot be stopped,” my greying conscience defended. While Mom busied herself shopping and shepherding my two younger siblings around cans of tomatoes, I cleverly rolled the dollar into a cylinder.

There wasn’t much time. Grocery cart loading for a family of eight was nearly done. I told Mom I needed the bathroom. I flew to the school supply section, grabbed Crayola’s 64 box then sprinted to the register hoping to make an express purchase. I handed the masterfully rolled dollar to a young cashier. I didn’t know how much the crayons cost and I didn’t wait. I grabbed my fabulous box and bolted toward the exit doors.

In hindsight, I should’ve selected the silver-haired cashier. The swift employee ran after me as did my mother. My crime was foiled on the spot. I had to return the crayons. I had to write a letter of apology. And, I was grounded.

So there I was stuck in my room with just 24 crayons and two weeks to think about all the colors I didn’t have.

Wildlife Resolve

Posted on January 4, 2015 by AM Roselli

My friends,
Yesterday after watching the big son’s wrestling tournament, then returning home to a messy house, I did nothing. The icy rain allowed a guilt-free couch plopping session. My family ate frozen pizza.

Today the big son has day two of his wrestling tournament. The delicate daughter goes to work in the early afternoon. The giant husband plans to start working down his winter ‘to do’ list. Rocky the Shepherd and Mojo the Dachshund will get their outdoor exercise. I must empty the fridge of all holiday food remnants then fill it with resolution food after grocery shopping. I’ll take down Christmas and all its trappings. I will return to my studio in the evening and mentally prepare for a new work week. Laundry must also be done or my family will travel naked tomorrow.

This morning I find myself struggling to ignite my New Year’s resolve. I’m fighting the ennui smothering my warm slippered feet. Sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee, the Christmas Tree taunts me while nearby wildlife drawings stare at me. My eyes begin focusing.

AnnMarie, wildlife doesn’t feel sorry for itself. Wildlife doesn’t put on slippers and ‘veg.’ Wildlife pushes through each day until physically unable.

Today, I resolve to embody the wildlife spirit – to live without complaint, to care for my young without issue, to live each day as if it’s the one I must get through to see tomorrow. Today I resolve to be as wise as wildlife.
Thank you. May you dream of accomplishing your resolutions…
Staring Gorilla created in 2008

Lying for an Angel

Posted on January 2, 2015 by AM Roselli

My Friends,
Sadly this tale is not a yarn. It is a true story, one that I’m not proud of. I was nine when hallowed inspiration struck. This creative shining moment in 1972 continues to cause me pangs of guilt. Even now I await delivery of a Time Machine ordered on Amazon, so I might return to the scene of my crime – the moment I lied for an angel.

My Grandmother’s Closet
My grandmother had her own bedroom in our home. It was a magical place. There was candy and small treasures wrapped in gift paper in her dresser. In the walk-in closet, she kept packages of Wrigley’s. The gum often called to me. I occasionally answered by sneaking a stick or two hoping it would never be missed. It never was. I thought myself clever.

The Inspiration
It was nearing Christmas – that most magical time in ‘kiddom.’ I can’t recall why I needed gum this particular morning but I did. I tiptoed into Grandma’s room and into the big closet. While borrowing a stick of gum, I heard footsteps and was forced to wait. As I held my breath, I began perusing Grandma’s knitting supplies. This closet was loaded with rainbow balls of wool and oodles of parchment patterns. Some wool was in balls while other threads were wrapped around cardboard cones. With my laser vision, I saw naked cones – I saw angels.

The Crime
In the blindness of inspired excitement, I threw caution to the wind. I took two large wool skeins and unravelled both until I held two precious cardboard cones in my thieving hands. I was going to make angels. There were swatches of fabric in our attic. One in particular, a beautiful light blue with silver and gold threads would be perfect for my angels’ gowns and the metallic pipe cleaners in my room could be fashioned into halos and wings.

The Lie
I cleverly concealed the heaping wool piles behind Grandma’s shoes. With the evidence camouflaged so was the crime. How did Grandma find the displaced wool so quickly? Hadn’t I been stealth? Hadn’t I swiped gum without a single repercussion ever? With five other siblings, there might be a chance to frame someone else, or I could outright lie when prosecuted. I remember Grandma calling me into her room and pointing to the woolen spaghetti. I remember her asking me if I unravelled the wool. I remember, with Christmas only weeks away, lying for an angel.

The Guilt
I don’t know what became of the first angel. The second, wearing a doily gown (there wasn’t enough blue fabric) remains with me. She hangs in my studio always nearby. I never admitted my crime to Grandma. And whenever I look at my cone angel she whispers, “Grandma knew all along. She kept the first angel, the one with the beautiful gown of blue, because she thought her precious.”
Thank you. Dream of being the most honest version of yourself you can be 🙂

HAPPINESS AND PEACE IN THIS NEW YEAR, MY FRIENDS

Running in the Circles of Life

Posted on December 30, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear friends,
Our lives are often spent running in circles navigating around the circle of life.
Before 2015’s ball drops, let us stop our spinning wheels a moment and give thanks, hopes, dreams and thoughts for this new beginning.
Let a shiny twelve months of renewed resolutions ring true.
Let this set of 365 roll in with songs of peace, words of wisdom and acts of compassion.
Let a fresh solstice bring the gentle moon nearer to our souls.
Let this year open balled fists across the planet into clasping hands held on earth.
Let this latest revolution around the sun remind mankind –
we are but humble guardians in the circle of life.

I wish for you a joyous New Year. Let 2015 be – Mr. Magoo said it best, “…more glorious than grand!”
And as the ball drops, let the dreams rise 🙂
AnnMarie
Circles of Life art created yesterday playing with Christmas markers from giant husband. New Year’s Ball photo taken yesterday too. Originally a Disco Ball (found this terrific idea on internet/broken CDs glued to styrofoam orb – made this for delicate daughter’s strobe-light 2007 birthday party) will now double as a New Year’s Ball for party! Thanks to the big son for playing pedestal. 🙂

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Hear the Bells

Posted on December 22, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
A Christmas song that remains near to my heart, like the satin chime of a throaty bell is the tune, I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day. The passionate words were written on December 25, 1864 by a master of American poetry, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Wadsworth’s prose were polished into a shimmering melody by John Baptiste Calkin in 1872.
Though Wadsworth penned this song beneath the onus of war, I like to imagine it represents worldwide peace arrived at nonviolently…
I love playing “Bells,” on my piano (albeit badly). I don’t practice as much as a should. Hmm, is there a New Year’s Resolution ringing in my ears? 🙂
Thank you. May you fall asleep to the sweet lullaby of magical bells…
Galeen’s Bell Song rendered a week ago after plinking the ivories awhile. I couldn’t get Rocky the Shepherd or Mojo the Dachshund to pose, so Snoopy signed on for a very reasonable rate. 🙂

Earth’s Angel

Posted on December 18, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
As glorious as this time of year can be for some, for others it can be quite sad and horrific. Dreaming of peace on earth is juvenile. Hoping that mankind can protect every child is naive. But asking each one of us to help someone in need – adult or child – in some small way is possible.

Thank you. Dream like a child this night…
And never stop believing in dreams or hope…

Earth’s Angel created this afternoon.

Of Giant Husbands and Little Trees

Posted on December 16, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
The giant husband is in the ‘green’ business. He knows quite a bit about plants, trees and Latin roots. Every year he works six days a week then for six glorious weeks, beginning Christmas Eve, the nursery closes. He gets a well-earned rest though Rocky the Shepherd, and Mojo the Dachshund usually fail to read the memo.

A few months ago I wrote a story about the giant husband. If you’d oblige, I’d like to share an edited version of it again. Because as the saying goes, “Behind every married woman who blogs, is a giant husband.” –

Back in 2000, after giving birth to the big son son I had some complications. For five days and nights after the big son came into the world, I was hooked up to tubes, monitors and I believe there were a few pots and pans (this is where I lost my dinner preparation zest). I liken the experience to an exotic vacation minus fresh air, warm sun, bright sea or anything else pleasant. Each night when the hospital room grew dark (despite bells, whistles, alarms and flashing lights) there was the giant husband, ‘sleeping’ at the foot of my hospital bed atop two small chairs smooshed together.

Though the giant husband makes things around him appear smaller, he makes anyone around him feel grand. My Christmas gift every year is having him home for the holidays.
Thank you. May you dream of someone who makes you feel grand…
Giant Husband, Delicate Daughter, Tiny Tree rendered today while listening to, It’s a Wonderful Life

A note: The other day I had the amazing fortune of talking to a selfless father and fellow blogger, Simon Tocclo of Liberian Me. The reason I bring this up here is when there are complications during birth, mothers (in the poorer areas of Africa) don’t survive. So when you dream, please dream of hope for those in need around the world…thank you.

If I Was Eight Again…

Posted on December 16, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
I didn’t save my childhood Christmas lists, but for some reason my 1971 Santa letter has followed me ’round from house to house. Below is the Santa letter I penned at eight-years-old. I remember my mom giving us these adorable cards to write our Christmas wish lists on.
( My penmanship was neatest at 8 years of age) –
I’ve read the list above many times since 1971 always thinking what if…
My 2014 Santa list (written by my eight-year-old, inner-child) would look like this-
My 1971 Santa list, with a few 2014 inner-child edits-
Thank you. May you dream of peace on earth and in every heart…
2014 Inner-child Christmas Card rendered today after shopping and before giving art lessons.

My 1971 Santa list resulted in a pink stuffed dog named Charlie, a small zither and no rabbit. Our German Shepherd would have eaten it. 🙂
I still smiled wide every Christmas…my parents made Christmas wonderful whether we got our list or not.