Blog
3/16/2021 7:46:15 PM
Escape!
This past year has many emotions--most bad. Our daily vocabulary now includes terms such as quarantine, isolation, antibodies...single masks, double masks...6 feet, social distancing, herd immunity. If the pandemic isn't bad enough the politics are even worse. Who hasn't felt the need to escape?
This last two weeks I've had a glimmer of hope--the peepers are back!! The sound of those little throaty frogs is truly music to my ears. As I sit on my deck and listen to their chorus my mind is immediately calmed. In those moments nothing else exists. Those same sounds have been welcome sign of spring throughout history. I can only imagine those before me found similar tranquility in their harmonious sounds regardless of the challenges faced. Ours is not the first generation to face hardships nor will it be the last.
We are sensory creatures who are easily triggered by sights, sounds, smells, and textures. It is very odd--during the winter I enjoy the absolute silence at my house during the night. The. silence only broken by an occasional grunt by Yorkie Boudreaux. Yet as spring approaches I can't wait to hear the very noisy nights with frogs, crickets, evening birds, and such that warm weather brings. The sounds are timeless. They can take me to a different time or stay quite contently in the moment. They are very grounding.
I have a friend who calls nature his sanctuary. I couldn't agree more! The beauty, the songs, the awe...very powerful. I painted this 12 x 12 painting, "Tranquility," to take some time to reflect on warm weather nights in the country. Regardless of the turmoil and challenges of the day--calmness is reset. Hope is restored in nature. Resilience is gained through nature. Strength builds in nature. The meditative nature of country sounds, smells, and sights are unparalleled. Escape outside whenever you can and absorb life's very simple pleasures!!
12/23/2019 7:07:52 PM
This year I painted myself a Christmas present…a painting of our family home at Christmas time. There seemed to be no words to describe the joy of the Christmas season in our home. I now realize there is one word—Mom. She worked all year snooping for hints of things we wanted, making special gifts, and trying to think of new ideas to surprise us. New things were great…but what we loved the most were the traditions.
Mom’s excitement was contagious. With Thanksgiving out of the way…her magic would begin! She would gradually decorate the house. We would come home from school to find a new decoration. Each new addition would be as exciting as the next…despite the fact they were the same decorations each year. Most she lovingly made herself.
Part of her fun was making Christmas Cookies. She and Aunt Nina (…not really our Aunt but very dear to us) would spend the entire day baking batch after batch of cookies. We came home from school to the incredible aroma. There would be cookies heaped everywhere!! She preferred we eat the “ugly ones,” which was totally fine with us…they tasted the same as the pretty ones.
The season always included the Christmas play at church. I was typically an angel bedazzled with a silver tinsel halo. Following the play we would all go to the fellowship hall for refreshments (…usually included some of the cookies), caroling, and visit by the big guy himself! We all new it was Buster, but we were no less excited even though his skinny statue was comically padded in the middle. All of the kids got small gifts of candy and fruit….I can smell them now.
We would often go caroling through the community. Most often Everett would line his farm truck with hay bales and our church would pile on. The colder the better! We would snuggle together bundled up like mummies huddling under quilts. We would go to community members homes who were elderly or ill and sing everyone’s favorite songs from memory. We would go back to church and have cocoa and cookies.
Our Christmas tree didn’t come from a fancy tree farm, nursery, or store. My dad would scope out the woods or cow fields for the perfect tree. This was pretty much how every family got a tree in those days…artificial trees didn’t happen. For my early childhood it would be a cedar tree—perhaps the most prickly tree on the Earth. One year dad found a cedar tree with a hornet’s nest in the middle. The hornet’s next had the front missing and a bird had built a nest inside—it was quite a curiosity. We aligned the lights to shine inside and placed an elf in there. I then developed an allergy to cedar so we switched to pine. The pines posed a challenge at times. One year Dad brought home a pine and put it in the usual bucket of gravel. Once inside in the Christmas tree spot Mom, who never complained, said it didn’t have enough branches. Dad was a very resourceful man—he got out his drill and jammed some more branches in the trunk plumping it right up!
Finally…school break would start and the excitement was too much to contain! Christmas Eve was the event of the year. All of our family came to our house for dinner. Sometimes there were 30-40 people perched everywhere catching up on the news and eating the seasonal delicacies. The gifts would be heaped half the height of the tree! Us kids would circle the tree like vultures scoping out which package would be the one gift we opened that night. The selection was very difficult. My cousin Jeff was the undisputed fastest unwrapper anywhere!
Despite how much I loved having everyone at the house, I found myself getting restless if they stayed too late. It was imperative I be in the bed and asleep for Santa to come. Me sleeping on Christmas night was nearly impossible! My dear Grandma Lottie would spend Christmas night with us. She slept in my bed and I would sleep on the folding cot…actually a treat. I would ask her “what time is it” about every 10-15 minutes. She and my sister were very patient. Finally, morning would arrive! We would stage on the stairs until the adults were ready down stairs and at long last we could come see what Santa brought. Somehow he always new exactly what I wanted—just like magic!
The whole Christmas season was like magic…full of love, hope, and kindness. I realize now much of what seemed like magic was the love our our parents, our family, our friends, and most of all our Christ. The night of our mothers funeral, a couple of young men from our community stopped by to pay their respects. They lovingly told us how “we would have never had gifts at Christmas if it hand’t been for your mom.” We had no idea. I continue to be surprised as people tell me their memories of my parents bringing them vegetables from the garden, making food when they were sick, bathing them following surgery…the list goes on. Wouldn’t it be nice if these were our traditions—not just at Christmas but all year long? The magic of caring for others without expectations…just because we care.
While this sweet house was full of magic…the true magic was the people inside. People that loved and openly shared this love. People that strived to do what ‘was right’ without any expectation of compensation or ‘thank you.” As I look towards my New Year’s resolution…this is a truly worthy aspiration—keeping the tradition of caring.
I wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
May the magic of Christmas last all year….
12/2/2018 5:53:45 PM
I had the pleasure of participating in the "Maker's Market" which was part of Orange, Virginia's "Holiday Village.” Despite the penetrating cold and rain it was surprisingly well attended….by very happy people. As people visited my tent I thanked them for coming out on such a nasty day. Each of them told me how important it was to support their town, the festivities, and the vendors. They actually thanked us for being there. This was the second year and many people remembered me from last year. It was like catching up with old friends. I absolutely love this town and it’s people! As a little girl I thought this was the best place anywhere because it was named after my favorite popsicle and fruit. Now I think a bit more deeply. My husband and I were discussing what was so special about the town and why did it evoke such emotion. My conclusion is the town actually has spirit—you can feel it.
The drive is about an hour from my home through some of the most beautiful landscape you will see anywhere. Old family farms with tree lined roads, strong barns, and breathtaking horses grazing in the fields with distant blue mountains hugging the horizon. Orange dates back to the 1700’s. From my expansive research (Google) it was first named “Orange Court House” in the 1740’s. It actually predates America’s independence which is hard to comprehend. It survived both the Revolutionary War and the Civil War. It served as a railroad hub for many years until the automobile entered the picture. In 1909 a major fire destroyed part of the town. The American silk Mill was built and operated in the 1920’s. In fact, in WWII it received a citation from the President for producing parachutes for the Allied troops. As the years past, industry moved as it has for many small towns.
In this blog I have a picture of the train depot which is now a visitor’s center. I can almost see the spirits of people standing on the platforms. I have a few more images posted on my Facebook site, "Beth Mehring Art." I’m so pleased that many of the old buildings have been renovated and repurposed rather than torn down and replaced. Through the architecture you can appreciate the influence of the many era’s the town has survived. As we walked and drove down the streets you can feel the spirit of the town through the thousands of people who have traveled through time in this historic location. The streets narrate our countries history—both pain and joy. Both early wars divided families. Orange was at the northern border of the confederacy which surely divided many families. There was also the joy of those returning safely. The rich agriculture has often been passed from generation to generation.
So much emotion surely leaves it’s imprint on the town. I want to go back soon for a visit and take more pictures. I anticipate they will be the subject of future paintings…the potential is endless! I do hope for a rain free day next year, but I plan to be there God willing. I look forwards to visiting my nameless friends who make me me feel like I came home for a visit. I hope I’m able to give back and support this lovely town so that it continues to narrate our country’s history from the heart. I somehow feel nurtured and humbled every time I visit.
Have a great week!
Beth
9/16/2018 10:50:33 AM
This crab was painted a few months back on a whim as I couldn’t think of anything else to paint. Today it prompts memories of a wonderful evening with family, friends, and a bushel of unfortunate crabs.
For some time I’ve been struggling and had difficulty isolating what was bothering me. Recently I’ve narrowed it down to longing for years past when people truly cared for each other and simply enjoyed each others company with no particular agenda. I reflected to my husband and son my childhood memories of family and community.
Most Saturday nights were spent in the company of our aunt, uncle, and cousins…either in Nelson County or Madison County. We never grew tired of these evenings filled with conversations, laughs, and delicious country cooking.
Sunday morning was church where everyone (…most everyone) greeted me with smiles and well wishes for a great week ahead. I enjoyed seeing my dear Grandma Lottie in her glory in the church she loved. She offered sweet smelling hugs and warmth only she could offer. Then home where Mom would have a wonderful, hot lunch where we all sat around the table. There was never a shortage of conversation and a tremendous sense of safety, belonging, and care. I did grow impatient as my parents took a post lunch nap which seemed like a waste of time…I now appreciate what a treat this was to them. After lunch was visitation. Either we visited friends or they dropped in on us. There was no planning, no calling ahead, no calendar invites…you just showed up to say “hi.” Everyone did this and everyone was welcome…this was the way we spent the “day of rest.”
There were always picnics, cook outs, pot luck dinners, reunions, and “Homecoming.” Home Coming was one of my favorites. This was when everyone came back to church—especially those from a distance. Following church there was a major picnic with tables of everyone’s specialty or favorite recipes. There was a sense of pride in preparing your best for this. Perhaps the best part was the lemonade! Ben Wood and Kermit Quick would have a special table set up with two enamel kettles filled with lemonade. The exterior would be sweating from the summer heat as lemon slices floated among the ice cubes. When you went to the table the would swirl the big dipper around in the kettle and fill your glass with delicious lemonade. Smiles were exchanged…they seemed to take great pleasure and purpose in this service to those in the community.
Even work involved socialization. Most in our community farmed to some degree….typically very small, self sufficient farms. When it was time for cutting hay, silage, or butchering hogs (sorry…but reality), friends and family came to help. The host family would prepare a bountiful meal of the scale of your favorite holiday. The meal preparation was filled with chatter and laughter. All generations working together to prepare a meal for all generations working in the fields. This was all the payment anyone looked for as they knew when it was time—others would there to help them.
While I could go on for pages…I’ll stop here. All of these seem to involve food—but that alone is misleading. The real key is they all involve preparing food for those you care about and taking time to enjoy each others company. I’ve been mourning the loss of the simple times and pleasures of my childhood. I’m caught up in the crazy world, the technology, the politics, the lack of time, the demands….and it is totally stifling!
What does this have to do with a bushel of crabs? Last night, some 25+ years later, my family went from Nelson County to Madison County to have dinner with my aunt, uncle, cousins, and friends. It truly, truly nourished my soul! They drove over an hour one way to pick up the crabs and other seafood up, brought them home, prepared them, and opened their home to us all. We put our food together to create a wonderful meal. Most importantly, we all sat around a table chatting, laughing, reminiscing, and taking great comfort in each others company. The only agenda was enjoying each other and picking crabs.
I go into this week feeling restored and connected. It instilled hope there is a glimmer of love, kindness, and civility around us, but it will take effort to bring these to the forefront. Maybe I should start a new movement—#restore love, kindness, and civility!
In our little county newspaper, many years back Miss Ruth had a social column where she would high light dinners, parties, etc with great detail. They would all end with “a good time was had by all.” Thank you Julie and Wes for your hospitality and a wonderful, wonderful evening…”a good time was had by all!”
Now my crab painting serves as a reminder of a special evening with family…
Have a great week!
Beth
9/9/2018 11:53:31 AM
This year it seemed everyone was on the same frequency....sunflowers. I've never seen so many sunflowers around homes, breweries--just about everywhere I looked. I actually had some at my house as well. They were an absolute delight! Some were very deliberately planted and others were strays from randomly dropped birdseeds. Regardless of the method or motive for planting the yield was the same--massive, beautiful blossoms reaching for the sky. They seemed to be secret code for "be happy...enjoy life...don't let society get you down...look up!"
As fall approaches I always find myself feeling sad. I love summer--the warmth, color, sounds, and fun. While fall is beautiful...the doldrums of winter will follow. I believe everyone should have one week of winter, but then the colorless, leafless, cold, butterflyless, germ filled, blahness needs to pass. Forgive my winter rant...back to fall. I see the sunflowers starting to change as fall approaches and this too makes me sad. Then I remembered how much the birds love the seeds from the sunflowers. These aren't ready for them to eat until the plant starts to fade and wither.
The changing season turns the blossoms that nourished our souls all summer to food nourishing the birds when the cold approaches. It is very likely these little guys will drop seeds here and there to restart the cycle in the spring. There is important lessons in the changing of seasons. This is especially clear to me as I'm getting older. Our vitality changes. While the new seasons are not quite the same--they are just as important. We need to embrace each new season for what it has to offer. Now I will keep telling myself this everyone morning when I'm dragging my stiff self out of bed.
I have evidence this is true! I fondly reflect on my grandmothers and my parents. The lessons learned, expert skills, and advice they shared was not there when they were in their 20's or even their 30's. It came much later in life and they were eager to share. I'm thankful I often took time to appreciate them and their wisdom. I often reflect on this and apply it everyday. They nourished us richly.
This helps me say goodby to my shriveling sunflowers with dropping petals and browning leaves. The grateful birds will be enjoying them the most when the blooms look their worst. I'm hopeful this will help soften the change of seasons and coldness of winter--the promise each season nourishes us in some way.
Have a great week!
Beth
8/31/2018 8:10:44 PM
The Appalachian Trail truly intrigues me. This 2,200 mile trek between Georgia and Maine is said to be the longest hiking trail in the world. An estimated 2 million people per year hiking parts of it! Apparently it was built between 1921 and 1937....and it still vital today.
Why does it intrigue me? I'm not completely sure! There are endless hiking paths throughout the world. However, there is a degree of magic when you say "Appalachian Trail"...a culture emerges. There are elite "thru hikers" that go from one end to another over months of arduous travel. Another group will hike sections at a time to total the full trail. Countless others will just enjoy a simple afternoon hike or several days camping.
Over 80 years have passed since it's completion. When I think of the history that has occurred in that 80 years...it is staggering! Technology has exploded, 6 o'clock Walter Cronkite to 24 hours news channel, 5 wars, space exploration, vinyl to iTunes...the list is endless! Yet through all of these changes and 80+ years--2 million people a year continue to flock to the longest hiking path in the world--absolute simplicity (...and poor phone signals). I love it!
Whether a brief escape to nature or monumental journey the call of the trail soothes the soul for so many. I painted the picture of the trail symbol because the simple, primitive symbol guides so many through their journey or quickly lets the mind escape to a happy place. These days when people are "triggered" by just about anything--the trail has remained pure. There are no tolls, entry fees, rental's along the way, bill boards...just an occasional trail symbol to direct and a few rustic shelters.
I'm not sure I would have ever been able to thru hike. I'm older now, out of shape, working too many hours, arthritis, and quite afraid of the dark...but I still love the magic it creates. I'm beginning to appreciate the meditative role art can play. Simply gazing at the this simple painting and the symbol on the tree...I can almost hear the birds and feel the fresh air. A little escape from our complex world to the timeless Appalachian Trail.
7/29/2018 7:14:24 AM
I'm not sure about anyone else, but so much of my life is highly structured. What time I have to get up for work...what I do when I get to work...bill time...tax time...dinner expectations...annual mammogram--you share the relentless expectations. I believe this is why I have found such pleasure in painting. It is one area of life I have total control with absolutely no expectations.
When I painted my sea turtle friend it was quite spontaneous. I ordered a great new background color named "Stillwater." I was so excited I painted the canvas in my new background and then had no idea what to put on there next. I stared at this lovely Stillwater Green canvas for a day or two and then decided maybe something underwater. I wasn't sure if it would be fresh water or salt water, but after a bit of Cerulean Blue...salt water emerged. I then discovered Indigo Blue--my new best friend in painting! It adds tremendous depth and dimension...or at least I think so. I now had deep, salt water but no subject--finally the turtle came into focus. The whole process of painting this was an absolute pleasure. I got so excited with each added color--it was new discoveries. Often I have to walk away from the painting and then walk back into the room to appreciate what I have done and need to do next. I learned a great deal about colors and dimension with this one.
Over time I feel like we are like sea glass...scratched, battered, and dulled through relentless turbulences of life. It seems like we are forever changed or diminished in some way. Then my sister shows me these gorgeous new earrings from the beach made from sea glass. With some love and care from an artisan--the contours and colors are embellished and hugged with some silver. Bang...the dull sea glass has new life! Not only are gorgeous--they are sentimental. They remind my sister of a her vacation with her family. They also accent her outfits perfectly!
I'm not completely sure my logic will resonate with others. In my mind hobbies, such as painting, drawing, sewing, woodworking...whatever brings pleasure are like new colors on a canvas or renewed life to worn glass. You never know what impact they will have on others, but most importantly--they nourish your own soul. While most things "take"...these "give." If you know me or work with me, you may not realize the background music in my brain is always looking at details, textures, colors...contemplating what next.
Take some time for creativity...you won't be disappointed!
Have a great week!
Beth
7/18/2018 9:20:24 PM
This is a picture of one of my dad's creations--one day I plan to paint this for me. My father grew up during the depression era and was quite resourceful as result. He was an avid gardner who grew enough food for several families. In fact, if you look closely at this picture you can see grapes, apple trees, black berry bushes, garden area waiting for the plow, and the asparagus patch directly behind the Hoe House.
Dad wanted a place to keep his garden tools close by so put this hollow log to work. He used tin remnants for the roof, old horse shoes for the hinges, and made a makeshift latch for the door. We all loved his creation so much--it was purely Papa! We affectionately made the faded sign above the door that read "Papa's Hoe House."
Why am I writing about this tonight? Other than the very fond memories associated with this...I wish we could capture my father's innovative spirit. Our society is so high tech with a specialized gadget for everything--our creativity and innovation are doomed. Both of my parents loved to create things and used materials that were on hand. I'm trying to figure a way to try to keep their spirits alive. I believe this is at least partially why I love to paint. Taking a few tubes of paint and blank canvas to create an image that hopefully evokes a positive emotion is very gratifying.
My parents never knew Amazon Prime. They had the same furniture for years, but it was "just fine." They didn't vacation every year. Lord knows they had no clue what a "selfie" was! They were two of the happiest, most content people I've ever known. In a fast paced world with so many distractions it is very easy to lose focus on the simple things. When I get around to painting the "Hoe House"--it will serve to remind me of just that...the simple things and finding beauty were most people over look.
4/30/2018 9:33:54 PM
This painting shares a bit more of my heart than my paintings normally do leaving me a bit vulnerable. I apologize for the quality of the image--snapped with my cell phone tonight rather than waiting for quality photo. My husband completed the frame today and I impatiently wanted to share it.
This is a composite painting of Vinegar Hill in Charlottesville, Virginia in about the 1950's. Why did I paint this? As I drive through Vinegar Hill today it is well established bordering the "Historic Downtown Mall" and adjacent to "Court Square." I was googling historic photos of Charlottesville and came upon photos of the original Vinegar Hill. I felt there was a story that needed to be told. While I don't know the full history--I hope to portray the community and the people within in my painting. This community was destroyed in the name of "progress."
I have told others that when I paint it is actually like meditation for me. I concentrate so deeply on the colors, the lines, and the composition I can get lost for hours. When I painted this picture I felt very emotional for those that lived in this community. In fact, I named the woman Martha. Her children are grown and moved to bigger cities for opportunity. She is the matriarch of the community and lovingly looks out for all. The man is Charles. He is very old and a his wife passed a few years back. His porch roof was destroyed in the winters heavy snow and there is no money to repair this. Martha makes sure he gets hot meals and gives him encouragement. The family down the street have children who play and laugh warming both Martha and Charles's hearts.
I created this story because there are so many similar communities now and throughout history. I entitled this picture "Hearts of Gold" because I have no doubt this street was full of the kindest, dearest, truest people we could imagine. The county I have lived in all of my life is fairly poor. There were a lot of Martha's and Charles's--each with noble hearts that share with all those that dare to care.
As we live in our materialistic world I hope we can manage to appreciate and support the "Vinegar Hill's" around us. There is so much that could be said in a narrative about this community from many years ago. I hope each of you take a moment to reflect. Often those who are the richest among us truly have the most humble lives.
Have a good week!
Beth
2/18/2018 3:35:59 PM
This is a "portrait" of a pea we grew last year....
Nothing says spring time like planting the early garden--peas, potatoes, onions, and greens. Last year when I was shelling peas I thought how pretty they were so I snapped this picture. This year when a warm day hits and the seed catalogs start arriving--it seemed appropriate to paint this picture.
While St. Patrick's day means green beer and shamrocks--it is also the marker for spring planting. I remember getting very excited when my dad would buy his seeds and we would slice seed potatoes into pieces--because spring garden meant warm weather and the return of the things I loved most. As I've mentioned before in my childhood there were no calendars rather crops to signal the seasons.
Spring planting meant Easter was close. My mom’s crocus, daffodils, and tulips were on the way. The grass would be green soon, the peepers would be peeping….and before too long school would be out! Another of my favorite things—the return of the lightening bugs. Today kids play video games…years past we competitively chased lightening bugs. As the end of the school year approached we would have fresh peas and new potatoes as only Mom could cook them! All was right in the world.
I believe spring has always been my favorite season because it symbolizes faith and rebirth. During the doldrums of winter we have faith spring will come and the barren earth will come to life…and it does year after year.
I’m not that different today than when I was a little girl. My heart warms as the baby calves are born, the baby chicks arrive from the mail order, the daffodils brave the cold to reach for the sun…life is good!
We need to cherish the things most pure and simple in this world…these are truly blessings that warm our hearts and nourish our souls.
Have a good week!!
Beth
