Dobry deň [dobrii dyeny] – Slovak for Hello
Two amateur artists were asked to paint something depicting “peace.”
On the appointed day, both artists brought their paintings to be shown.
One picture was of a quiet, rippleless lake.
Here indeed was peace as seen by an artist.
The other painting showed a gnarled tree standing on the precipice in a rugged canyon.
Nearby was a thundering waterfall, and the river dashed on, angrily below.
In the tree, near her nest, a bird was perched, singing above the clamor of the torrent of the water below.
A sudden change in the wind could bring disaster to the frail limb upon which the bird and her nest were located.
But instinctively she knew that if that happened, she and her young ones could use their wings and mount to the sky.
Yes, the two artists had fulfilled what they had been asked to do.
One painted a scene depicting the quiet beauty of peace.
The other had seen the majestic splendor that accompanies inner peace.
I took this picture of a little waterfall back in 2000, it was one of the falls up the hill on the way to our old Nursery and Organic Farm.
When I came across it this morning, while going thru my collection of images…I remember that day…and the fact that I was in love with taking photo’s of moving water and sunlight.
It was a narrow curving very uphill road that we lived and worked at the top of…and this little fall was really full that day, because of the rain.
A sudden sunbreak opened up as I drove down the hill, and I pulled onto the soft shoulder, and ran out of the car and started taking pictures. My kids were late for school that morning, (so what?) but I have this little fall in all it’s glory forever.
So …therefore I’ll never loose the memory of living, working and being lucky at the top of the hill, overlooking the Columbia River.
It was great to wake up and watch the hawks take flight, having to wake the Elk up and chase them out of the gardens,
and watching mist rising from the river below, first thing in the morning.
I miss it, sometimes painfully. Life was easier then, in some ways. Harder in others.
It was easier, because I had been a “landscaper” of some sort my entire young life; When I started designing garden rooms, and we decided to go full-time with our little dream…and started selling plants too…I can’t remember Mate Man and I having a better time.
Harder because we lived in a small town, that no matter how involved we were with the community, and no matter how much people liked us…we were from outside the area…and from the South to make things worse…and we both looked really freaky living in that town…Mate Man with his Bald head, ear rings and I’m gonna eat your lunch look…and me with my friendly ways, weird sense of fashion and quick wit.
Now I get the usual Portlander dismissal..Just another freaky arty type..No biggie…there’s thousands of us round here.
So making friends here has proved to be even harder…even though it should be easier…with so many more people around, being a big city and all…ya know?
I have made some friends though…they just happen to live all over the country, and not one of them close-by.
But I am grateful for each of them, and feel lucky to have them.
I am grateful I got the chance to live at the top of that pretty hill once too.
I do miss being an “expert” ask me anything about Horticulture and I am good to go…but now that I am an artist…I will probably be dead before I am considered an “expert” at what I do.
If you think about it like the waterfall up there…or the story after it…that’s the better path for me anyway.
I get bored easy…so not being able to “get” done is a good thing for me in today.
So I will flow with the day today,
I will follow my path
Yours in this Moment,
PS: Go Buy Some Art Here…Please!