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There is no question. With or without an official medical diagnosis, it’s certain that I am afflicted with SAD (seasonal affective disorder). It happens every year. I like winter to an extent, but after a couple of months of it, I’ve had enough…3 months and I’m bordering on severe depression and utter insanity.

Beginning in November, I start feeling unusually lazy and unmotivated. I can’t get going in the mornings and I plop down on the sofa like a slug at the end of a workday and gaze blankly at the TV as though in a coma. I don’t want to go anywhere, don’t want to do anything, don’t want to see anyone. If life did not necessitate full-time employment, I would happily drift into a full-fledged state of winter hibernation until this dreary season was passed.

Here in the south, we are not even graced with any of the normal perks of winter, such as pretty snow. Frozen precipitation here is more often just sloppy sleet and freezing rain, which too often results in DAYS (sometimes WEEKS) without power (aka Internet and TV…EGADS!). Even in those rare events when we actual DO see white stuff, we’re expected to risk life and limb to show up on the job regardless, so we don’t get to ENJOY it while it’s here…which is rarely more than 1 day at best.

Painting, drawing, even writing…creative inspiration and endeavors…it’s the ONE thing, the ONLY thing, I want to do during this miserably depressing season. I would be delighted to hold up in a cave and just paint the winter away, if not for the unreasonable demands of responsible living and friends who just do not understand the typical inclinations of a hermit afflicted with SAD.

I had important things to do today. I SHOULD have ridden at least one horse while the weather is not miserably cold. Instead, I fed them and considered my responsibilities met in full. I should have taken my dogs to the vet for their allergy shots. I overslept instead. I should have gone to pick up a print job that’s going to cost me God knows what. Instead, I started a painting. I’m not finished with it yet. I’m never really finished with anything, which is one reason I love digital media…it’s always available to revisit and improve upon, or even completely rework. If only LIFE were so easy to revist and improve upon…even rework entirely…

I Did Not Die

Do not stand at my grave and forever weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.
I am not there. I did not die.

by Mary Elizabeth Frye nee Clark

Markiz was my grandson Kendall’s favorite of my 3 horses. He had personality PLUS. He was an Arabian gelding of Polish bloodlines, bred in Switzerland, foaled in New York state. He came to live with me at age 8. When my husband and I separated a few years later, I could not afford board for my mare and Markiz both at our separation, and since my ex expressed a desire to keep Markiz, we took him to board at farm in Greenville county while he fixed up his property for Markiz’s return. My ex ended up abandoning Markiz there at that farm, the owner of which managed to track down my whereabouts a couple of years later to see if I wanted him back because she could no longer afford to care for him since my husband had long since stopped paying for his board and care. Wilma and I went to Greenville a few days later to pick him up and I was able to enjoy him for several more years. He became a wonderful trail horse, I taught a couple of children to ride on Markiz, and many friends enjoyed riding him too. He had the personality of a lap dog, always playful with everyone and always flirty with pretty mares.

There are 2 words that strike terror in the heart of every horse owner: founder and colic. Founder is a condition that effects a horse’s hooves; colic effects the digestive system. The causes for both are many and varied…many horses survive, many more don’t. Me, my friends and family, my vet, and my farrier all fought valiantly for 3 months to try to save our beloved friend Markiz when he was stricken with founder on Labor Day of 2003. During his illness, I went to the barn every morning before work to clean and doctor his feet; came home for lunch every day to clean and doctor them again, to walk him and to make sure he drank something before I went back to work; again every evening when I got home from work, and again before going to bed around 11pm. I remember many a cold night walking with him in the arena in the moonlight, talking to him and singing to him as we walked. He really seemed comforted by that. One night we saw a shooting star that was so bright, it lit up the entire barn area like daylight before fading away. My wish of course, was for him to get well, but I was denied that wish.

I was not able to let Markiz go as long as he had fight in him, but in the end he was not able to overcome the devastating effects of that condition. When HE had given up, he let me know he was ready to rest, and I didn’t have the heart to force him to go on any further. We ended his suffering and laid him to rest on a cold winter day, December 21, 2003, in the cattle pasture of my good friends Wilma and Jack. 6 years later, remembering him, remembering that horrible 3 month nightmare, still makes me cry like a baby.

After his burial, Kendall and I took some flowers and laid them on his grave out there in Jack’s cow pasture, and we said our last goodbyes to our friend. It was almost as if Markiz was with us out there, assuring us that he was home and happy…that he wanted us to know he had loved us as we had loved him…to say thank you for trying so hard to restore his health, but that it was time now to say goodbye…time for him to go run and frolic with the horses of heaven. I created the portrait you see at the beginning of this post, in the days that followed our loss.

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Picture Title:

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Sometimes, things just don’t work the way they’re supposed to.

I shot this scene in the garden of an acquaintance. It seemed worthy of recording, since you don’t come across too many scarecrows with a beer in hand. But then, if all you had to do day in and day out was stand in a field in all manner of weather and scare away birds, I guess an altered state of consciousness COULD be somewhat useful.

I confess to having added the crow. Bob told me that the scarecrow was mostly for looks, as he had, on numerous occasion seen crows and other assorted fowl perch upon this novelty. Even though I was not fortunate enough to witness said hilarity, I am NOT without my own means to create my OWN Kodak moment.

I had a great image of one of the MANY crows that live near my own small farm, but the setting was quite uninteresting. I had this interesting shot of Bob’s garden scarecrow…quite unique in itself, but it too, still lacking SOMEthing. Hmmmm…

In the original shot of the scarecrow, I had failed to use an effective depth of field that would make the focal point (the scarecrow) stand out, so the busy background was distracting. I used a number of layer techniques, filters and effects to try to bring a more effective focal point back to the scarecrow and her pet. Here’s the final result. Won’t likely win any contests, but I thought it rather cute in depicting one of the many ironies of life.

A spectator appears to be giving Bailey some advice (or perhaps commendations) on her performance at a schooling show at FENCE in Tryon, North Carolina. Bailey is a friendly warmblood mare owned by Georgie Arrigo of Tryon, NC.

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This image is one of my favorites…not only the image, but also the story behind it. When I first set up my bird feeders, I found myself constantly battling marauding squirrels determined to steal my expensive bird feed. So I bought a baffle…which worked pretty well I thought, until I spotted a particularly determined squirrel who looked unnervingly as though he might figure out how to baffle the baffle. Just to be on the safe side, I thought I would incorporate a backup system…I sprayed the pole with PAM cooking spray. The ensuing show was HILARIOUS. I must confess, I’ve rarely seen the determination displayed by those darn squirrels…if they had no natural predators, they could rule the world with that kind of tenacity. This crazy varmint would get halfway up the pole and then sliiiiiiide slowly back toward the ground with this “baffled” expression on his face (no pun intended). I got a shot of this fellow on one of his trips back down the pole.

Why the title ‘Strip Tease?’ You know, strippers, poles? Not that I would know anything about that sort of thing…

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