Still in Love… With Fuchsias (Or a Load of Bosch)

Raindrop Pearls

Ballerina Fuchsias With Raindrop Pearls  ~ Arcrylic on canvas ~ 20cms x 20cms x 4cms

Little gives me greater pleasure when I’m painting than to occasionally turn my head to look through the open glass doors of my studio out onto our small courtyard garden. As you might imagine (judging by the subject matter of my most recent paintings) my pride and joy are in full and beautiful bloom at present. The bees and bumblebees, too, love them.

And whilst I paint pretty flowers I listen to YouTube audiobooks. No, not romance novels or gardening books – I’m into Michael Connelly’s books about murder and detection, particularly the ones featuring Detective Hieronymus Bosch. Wasn’t Hieronymus Bosch the Dutch painter from the fourteen-hundreds? Yes, but so is Michael Connelly’s main character. They both deal with seedy aspects of life… unlike me. At the moment I just like painting pretty fuchsias.

 

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Hieronymus Bosch
Drawing of a man wearing a hat

Portrait of Hieronymus Bosch, c. 1550,
(attr. Jacques Le Boucq)
Native name Jheronimus Bosch
Born Jheronimus van Aken
c. 1450
‘s-Hertogenbosch, Duchy of Brabant, Burgundian Netherlands
Died Buried on 9 August 1516
‘s-Hertogenbosch, Duchy of Brabant, Habsburg Netherlands
Nationality Dutch
Known for Painting
Notable work The Garden of Earthly Delights
The Temptation of St. Anthony
Movement

Something in the Air

Yesterday there was something in the air that my lungs didn’t like, so much so that I had an asthma attack in the night (and smokers think I’m over-reacting when I say I can’t take cigar smoke!).  I’m not generally an asthmatic – just around cigars and things that make me allergic – and you’ll be pleased to know I was fine after taking my inhaler.

There was something in the air today that made me feel a little wistful. At the time I was in the heart of the countryside, at Rosie’s farm, and Inca and Malachi were out for a walk with me. Inca, the younger and more impetuous of the Black Labradors, raced ahead while Malachi, ever faithful and true, stayed near me unless I threw a stick for her to catch. The older dog never seems to mind that I stop now and then to take photographs, or simply to enjoy the view; in fact, I think she likes it because I talk to her and signal that I’m ready to go on again by running my hand over the back of her head and ears (what soft ears she has). I think she feels we are kindred spirits for we appear to like the same things (although it would be fair to say that I’m not so keen on putting my nose down rabbit holes!). I wondered if, like me, Malachi had noticed the difference in the air.

It was sunny and warm. There was a gentle breeze, slightly cool and not unpleasant for walkers in the countryside, and there were bees and butterflies flitting from one side of the path to the other; but the hedges were not as verdant as the last occasion I had been on the same route, for the green was in the process of giving way to yellow and brown. Thistle heads, no longer purple, were waiting soberly for the inevitable – a stiffer breeze to whisk away the shocks of white and leave them bald. No more the tall spikes of magenta foxgloves, the red campions, or the blue periwinkles; even the cow parsley has become “sparsley”. The ferns were browning off or had already wilted with heat exhaustion. It felt like summer was nearing its end and autumn was in the air.

Malachi and I were a bit sad. We like all the wild flowers. I don’t much like walking in Wellington boots, although Malachi and Inca have no objection to larking about in the mud (another area where we differ!). We found some blackberry bushes and I picked all the ripe berries I could reach without getting stung by nettles and shared them equally between us. Coming back we took the higher path to the orchard and noted that the trees were laden with apples. We remembered that we love picking apples.

“I expect the mushrooms, too, will come up soon,” I said to my faithful friend.

And when we fed the chooks (chickens) the old porridge (glad someone likes it – I don’t) and stale bread I had brought along for them we were delighted to find a fresh egg. I kept this for myself and added another two from the basket in the farmhouse kitchen. Upon arriving back to our home in Dawlish I found Chris sunbathing on the terrace. I don’t think he’s noticed that autumn is in the air.

 

Just One Cornetto?

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Just One Cornetto?

We’re heading towards a checkout counter at Tesco when I begin to feel a bit embarrassed. I’ve just glanced into our shopping trolley and noticed that it’s not one of our most “proud to go to the counter with our healthy food” days – there isn’t a cucumber or lettuce leaf in sight. In fact, there isn’t as much as usual in the trolley (we’re trying to cut down) but what is in there nearly all came from the freezer cabinets. Well, it is a hot day.

“The man at the checkout will think we’re addicted to ice cream,” I whisper in Chris’s ear as we arrive at the counter.

Chris smiles. He’s not at all addicted to ice cream. I was the one who filled the trolley.

“Hello. What a lovely hot day!” says the forty-year-old at the checkout as we begin to empty our trolley onto the moving surface of the counter.

“Ah,” I think, “he thinks we’re ice cream addicts.”  I’m glad Chris is with me so I don’t look a desperate addict on my own.

The two packs of Raspberry Smoothies beep past the scanner, then the Mango Smoothies (another two packs – cheaper by the twos), then the Mango and Yogurt Ices (Home brand but very acceptable) followed by the gluten-free strawberry cones (for health freaks).

“You must think we’re addicted to ice cream,” I say sheepishly.

“I don’t care too much for ice cream myself,” replies the assistant.

“They aren’t all for us,” I say, “we’re expecting visitors.”

The box of six fruit flavoured water-ices are about to reach the hand of the checkout man when we are all distracted by a man’s voice.

“Hello!” beams a young man whose face is not completely unfamiliar to me but I can’t place how I know him.

The young man seams to know me. He is walking up to me. He is standing next to me, expectantly. He looks like he wants me to greet him with a kiss. What the heck! I give him a kiss on the cheek and it dawns on me how I know him…

 

When shopping in Tesco a few weeks ago, and Chris was perusing items in a different aisle, I heard two men talking about a girl with a “beautiful smile”. Fascinated, I went to the end of the aisle and popped my head around to see who they were talking about.

“That’s her!” said the young chap.

I had thanked them with a wave and carried on shopping… once I had got over the pleasant surprise. Well, he was no Brad Pitt but it’s still nice to be appreciated by a much younger man.

 

“I remember you,” I say to the young chap I have just kissed.

“Where’s my kiss?” asks my husband.

They have a man-hug and we’re all laughing, including the man at the counter.

“I think I’m going to start eating lots of ice cream from now on,” says the checkout man theatrically.

And he scans a pack of Double-Chocolate Cornettos (half price), which I know Chris will enjoy even though he isn’t an ice cream addict.

“Just one Cornetto, give it to me. Delicious ice-cream from Italy….” Remember the adverts? My admirer probably isn’t old enough to remember.

 

 

Fuchsias, Fuchsias – Two New Little Paintings

Pink to Purple, With Raindrops

Pink to Purple, With Raindrops

The latest fuchsia painting (20cms x 20cms x 4cms – Acrylic on deep canvas) is still on the easel.

A Paler Shade of Pink

A Paler Shade of Pink

This one (30cms x 30cms x 4 cms) is hanging on a wall in the pink bedroom upstairs.

A few more shots from different angles to encompass the depth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Art

My Kingdom for a… Pub!

It’s not just that we wanted to go to a pub yesterday lunchtime, although a pub in a beautiful setting is always a great attraction; no, we wanted to go for a walk along the Exe Estuary path from Powderham Church and feel the sun on our skin and the wind in our hair…

 

Work, Work, Work

We’ve painted the outside of our house and now we’re painting the house of one of our lovely neighbours. Our guest from Australia is proving invaluable up a ladder (he’s used to the heat) and also Roly turns out to be a dab hand at making pasta (but rubbish at stringing runner beans – shh!). In-between all the jobs we still manage to find some time every day to sit on the terrace and take in the beauty of the sea and the sky before us, and I have my mobile with me in order to capture some of the special moments. There isn’t much time left in which to write!

But before I finish I’ll tell you something funny that Roland said the other day… Chris, Roland and I were talking about relationships and the things that matter when it comes to finding that perfect mate.

“I know I’m not perfect,” I began, “I’m fat and ugly…”

I was about to spout forth some wisdom when Roly interrupted me:

“That’s the least of your problems!”

Of course he said it with a wicked smile and I laughed uncontrollably for several minutes.

Cat Burglar?

Our darling youngest daughter Bobbie and I were sitting side by side at my computer in the studio when an unexpected visitor came in through the open double-doors. He was rather good looking and not at all menacing so we weren’t in the slightest bit alarmed, although I shut the inner door to prevent him from wandering around the whole house (personally, I wouldn’t have minded but Chris doesn’t like me to be too friendly with strangers).

Actually, he was a bit over-friendly. First he plonked himself on Bobbie’s lap, then he pawed at me and draped himself over my left shoulder; he put his hairy arms around my neck and pressed his body against my breast… Well! I suppose I would be lying if I said I wasn’t  somewhat flattered, if not flattened, but it was hard to concentrate on what Bobbie was teaching me on the computer and I had to ask him to desist. Not wishing to sound conceited, I can tell you it was hard to get him off me. At last he realised that he had to calm down or be booted out.

The handsome chap decided that the ground at my feet was a better place than the world beyond the door and he stayed there so quietly that Bobbie and I almost forgot he was still there.

Perhaps half an hour had passed when we were startled by voices outside and the sight of a lady and her son coming down the garden steps leading to my studio.

“Is he here?” the lady asked with incredulity.

I stood up and went to the doorway.

“Yes, I saw him down there earlier,” said my neighbour Chris (another Chris – not my husband).

The boy ran down to the bottom of the steps whilst his mother stayed about half way up. The lad found his beloved pet on the mat just inside the door. In truth, I don’t believe the flirty Tom really wanted to leave so soon although he must have been thrilled by the reactions of his owners.

“Oh thank you, thank you,” said the lady, “he’s never been so far before.”

The lady, her son and their cat live at least half a mile away – the other side of the busy main road. Tom had been missing for a day and a night, and they had been out searching for him. It was sheer luck that our neighbour Chris had seen Tom come down to my studio and had still been outside when Yvonne approached him to inquire about sightings of her errant cat. I’m not sure if his name really is Tom – probably not – but she is definitely called Yvonne and I have her phone number in case “Tom” ever comes a-calling again.

And while all this excitement was going on Bobbie was busy making me an Internet shopfront on “Etsy”, the brilliant site for artists and craftspeople. If you look for “TheFineArtSpot” on “Etsy” you will find one solitary flower painting by Sally Porch for sale – the first of many! Please give me just a few days to add more listings before you visit the site, otherwise you might think it’s been burgled!

 

 

A Sunbeam, a Sunbeam

“A sunbeam, a sunbeam, Jesus wants me for a sunbeam,” came a voice from above.

I didn’t look up. I knew exactly who it was and, besides, I was getting on with my own thing at the time. Actually, I was kneeling down – not in prayer – but painting the bottom of the bay window leading out onto our terrace (ironically, men always think women love to paint the bottom bits of everything just because we’re shorter when we’d much rather be hanging onto the top of a ladder!). Roly, our house-guest from Australia, was the one hanging onto the top of the ladder at the time and Chris was hanging onto the bottom of the ladder, making sure that it was kept stable.

“A sunbeam, a sunbeam, I’ll be a sunbeam for him,” Chris and I responded in unison from our respective lowly positions.

For a little while we were quiet, each of us lost in a private reverie inspired by the old Sunday School song. I thought of the Gospel Hall at Gumdale, Brisbane, where the Porch children sang that song with gusto nearly every Sunday morning at one stage of my early childhood. I smiled to myself.

A few minutes later, and now onto the window sill, the voice from above rang out again (on this occasion slightly unsure of the tune):

“Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!”

“How does the tune go, Roly? Can’t you sing a bit more?” I implored.

“No, I can’t remember how it goes,” our friend shouted down from his lofty position near the gutter.

“What about you, Chris? Do you know how it goes?” I said to Chris, without turning to him because I was cutting along a tricky edge under the window.

“No, I can’t remember,” Chris probably fibbed.

“But you should know, considering your grandfather was a parson,” I goaded.

“But I didn’t even know my grandfather…. and he was a vicar, not a parson, and my uncle was a canon,” my husband informed me (as he usually does whenever I insist that he should know something pertaining to the church).

“What’s the difference?” I asked (as usual).

“Well, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you but a vicar is Church of England and a parson is a clergyman from other Protestant denominations…”

“But isn’t the Church of England Protestant? Was that your Uncle Wally?” I queried (twice).

Then Chris answered the last question by doing an an impression of his Uncle Wally the canon – “May I take a bath?” – and Chris and I laughed. Roland didn’t laugh because he doesn’t know Orpwood family “in-house” stories and jokes, or maybe he chuckled from the top of the ladder and we didn’t hear him.

Anyway, Roland was our “Sunbeam” and for the next few days he will continue helping us paint our house – and the neighbour’s – to ensure his place nearer to God. We do like to save our guests from getting bored on holiday. After all…

Proverbs 16:27-29Living Bible (TLB)

27 Idle hands are the devil’s workshop; idle lips are his mouthpiece.[a]

 

And here are some photos…

 

Nearer, My God, to Thee

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Cartoon depicting a man standing with a woman, who is hiding her head on his shoulder, on the deck of a ship awash with water. A beam of light is shown coming down from heaven to illuminate the couple. Behind them is an empty davit.

“Nearer, My God, To Thee” – cartoon of 1912

Nearer, My God, to Thee” is a 19th-century Christian hymn by Sarah Flower Adams, based loosely on Genesis 28:11–19,[1] the story ofJacob’s dream. Genesis 28:11–12 can be translated as follows: “So he came to a certain place and stayed there all night, because the sun had set. And he took one of the stones of that place and put it at his head, and he lay down in that place to sleep. Then he dreamed, and behold, a ladder was set up on the earth, and its top reached to heaven; and there the angels of God were ascending and descending on it…”

The hymn is well known, among other uses, as the alleged last song the band on RMS Titanic played before the ship sank.

Lyrics[edit]

The lyrics to the hymn are as follows:[2][3][4]

“Jacob’s Dream”, artwork on the campus of
Abilene Christian University.

Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!
E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me;
Still all my song shall be nearer, my God, to Thee,

Chorus: Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!
Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,
Darkness be over me, my rest a stone;
Yet in my dreams I’d be nearer, my God, to Thee,

Nearer, etc.
There let the way appear steps unto heav’n;
All that Thou sendest me in mercy giv’n;
Angels to beckon me nearer, my God, to Thee,

Nearer, etc.
Then with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs Bethel I’ll raise;
So by my woes to be nearer, my God, to Thee,

Nearer, etc.
Or if on joyful wing, cleaving the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upwards I fly,
Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee,

Nearer, etc.

A sixth verse was later added to the hymn by Edward Henry Bickersteth Jr. as follows:[2]

There in my Father’s home, safe and at rest,
There in my Saviour’s love, perfectly blest;
Age after age to be, nearer my God to Thee,

Nearer, etc.

Text and music[edit]

1881 sheet music cover

The verse was written by the English poet and Unitarian hymn writer Sarah Flower Adams at her home in Sunnybank, Loughton, Essex, England, in 1841. It was first set to music by Adams’s sister, the composer Eliza Flower, for William Johnson Fox‘s collection Hymns and Anthems.[5]

In the United Kingdom, the hymn is usually associated with the 1861 hymn tuneHorbury” by John Bacchus Dykes, named for a villagenear Wakefield, England, where Dykes had found “peace and comfort”.[6][7] In the rest of the world, the hymn is usually sung to the 1856 tune “Bethany” by Lowell Mason. British Methodists prefer the tune “Propior Deo” (Nearer to God), written by Arthur Sullivan (of Gilbert and Sullivan) in 1872.[8] Sullivan wrote a second setting of the hymn to a tune referred to as “St. Edmund”. Mason’s tune has also penetrated the British repertoire.[9]

The Methodist Hymn Book of 1933 includes Horbury and two other tunes, “Nearer To Thee” (American) and “Nearer, My God, To Thee” (T C Gregory, 1901–?),[10] while its successor Hymns and Psalms of 1983 uses Horbury and “Wilmington” by Erik Routley.[11] Songs of Praise includes Horbury, “Rothwell” (Geoffrey Shaw) and “Liverpool” (John Roberts/Ieuan Gwyllt, 1822–1877)[12] Liverpool also features in the BBC Hymn Book of 1951[13] and the Baptist Hymn Book of 1962 (with Propior Deo)[14] The original English Hymnal includes the hymn set to Horbury,[15] while its replacement New English Hymnal drops the hymn. Hymns Ancient and Modern included Horbury and “Communion” (S S Wesley),[16] although later versions, including Common Praise, standardise on Horbury.[17]

Other 19th century settings include those by the Rev. N. S. Godfrey,[18] W. H. Longhurst,[19] Herbert Columbine,[20] Frederic N. Löhr,[21]Thomas Adams,[22] Stephen Glover,[23] Henry Tucker,[24] John Rogers Thomas,[25] and one composed jointly by William Sterndale Bennett and Otto Goldschmidt.[26] In 1955, the English composer and musicologist Sir Jack Westrup composed a setting in the form of an anthem for four soloists with organ accompaniment.[27]

RMS Titanic and SS Valencia[edit]

“Nearer, My God, to Thee” is associated with the sinking of the RMS Titanic, as some survivors later reported that the ship’s string ensemble played the hymn as the vessel sank. For example, Violet Jessop said in her 1934 account of the disaster that she had heard the hymn being played;[28] Archibald Gracie IV, however, emphatically denied it in his own account, written soon after the sinking, and wireless operator Harold Bride said that he had heard “Autumn”,[29] by which he may have meant Archibald Joyce‘s then-popular waltz “Songe d’Automne” (Autumn Dream).[28] In feature films based on the Titanic disaster, the “Bethany” version was used in the 1929 film Atlantic and the 1943, 1953 and 1997 films titled Titanic, but the “Horbury” version was played in the 1958 film, A Night to Remember.[8]

Wallace Hartley, the ship’s band leader, who went down with the ship (as did all other musicians on board), liked the hymn and had wished to have it performed at his funeral. As a Methodist Briton, he was familiar with both the “Horbury” and “Propior Deo” versions but would not likely have used “Bethany”. His father, a Methodist choirmaster, used the “Propior Deo” version at church. His family were certain that he would have used the “Propior Deo” version,[30] and it is this tune’s opening notes that appear on Hartley’s memorial[29][31] and that were played at his funeral.[30] However, a record slip for a 1913 Edison cylinder recording of “Nearer, My God, to Thee”, featuring the “Bethany” version, states that “When the great steamship ‘Titanic’ sank in mid-ocean in April 1912, it was being played by the band and sung by the doomed passengers, even as the boat took her final plunge.”[32] George Orrell, the bandmaster of the rescue ship, RMS Carpathia, who spoke with survivors, related: “The ship’s band in any emergency is expected to play to calm the passengers. After the Titanic struck the iceberg the band began to play bright music, dance music, comic songs – anything that would prevent the passengers from becoming panic-stricken… various awe-stricken passengers began to think of the death that faced them and asked the bandmaster to play hymns. The one which appealed to all was ‘Nearer My God to Thee’.”[33]

“Nearer, My God, to Thee” was sung by the doomed crew and passengers of the SS Valencia as it sank off the Canadian coast in 1906, which may be the source of the Titaniclegend.[34]

Oh My Godfathers!

Who is he like? No, nSteve McQueen?ot my godfather – don’t think I have one – but it was a convenient expression to use for this blog post. I’m referring, in case you haven’t guessed, to our friend Roland (“Roly”) who is over from Australia at present. Do you think he resembles Steve McQueen?

Stevie

 

 

 

 

 

Stevie baby

 

 

 

 

 

Or is he more like another famous heartthrob from Hollywood? What about Paul Newman (a little later in life than the photograph below)?

 

5563415 (9021) Paul NEWMAN (*26.01.1925), amerikanischer Schauspieler, Rennfahrer und Unternehmer, Portrait bei den Dreharbeiten zu dem amerikanischen Spielfilm "Paris Blues", 1960, [SPERRVERMERKE BEACHTEN | PLEASE CHECK RESTRICTIONS! Nutzung nur mit Genehmigung und gegen Honorar, Beleg, Namensnennung und zu unseren AGB. Nur zur redaktionellen Verwendung. Honorare an: KEYSTONE Pressedienst, HASPA, BLZ 200 505 50, Kto. 1235130877], Innenaufnahme, s/w, 20. Jahrhundert, 60er Jahre, Portrait, Name= Newman, Paul, Personen, Schauspieler, Paris Blues, Querformat, raucht, rauchend, rauchen, Zigarette, a00689, amerikanischer, geb. 26.01.1925, Rennfahrer, Unternehmer

Or could it be Marlon Brando? Just think of the dashing Fletcher Christian in “The Mutiny on the Bounty” (1962)….

brando_3282486b

Brando-LS

 

 

 

 

 

Well, actually, I was thinking more along the lines of  “The Godfather”!

The other Godfather

“Want a nice horse?”

Oh yes, as well, they all have something else in common….

Clint

Come rain or shine….

Happiness is a rool-up

Happiness is a roll-up cigarette (not to be confused with “roll-mops”!)