Tag: stories

80th Birthday Celebration

I threw my mom an 80th birthday party in Minocqua, Wisconsin. The location of the hotel is in the lakes region where my parents have a cabin. I wanted the party gifts to be as special as my mom, so I planned to hand-paint images of native Mid-western flowers and put each one in a small, metal frame. With little time to do this before departing for the Northwoods, I packed my art kit and pulled it out during the flight. (See my cramped studio above.) I painted 20 little images — one each to be given to guests at the end of the night. And, what a night it was. The banquet room was beautiful as it overlooked Lake Minocqua. Guests arrived at 5pm and soon we were surrounded by three generations of family and friends. Just as the sun set a double rainbow came out to greet the birthday girl. Mom was so happy, it was a magical evening.

Preparing a travel journal

Four years in the making, our Italy trip is on the horizon. I am most excited about visiting Vernazza (pictured above) in Cinque Terre, since our plans looked dashed last October after rains and mudslides devastated this and other towns in the region. Most restaurants and shops are open according to the website Save Vernazza. The finishing touches to my packing list are building pages to journal on (see below).

CC and I scoured thrift shops for coffee table books with beautiful images of Italy and the countryside/seaside. I found a 50 year old book on Rome with gorgeous black and white images of Roman life, and another book about sea-side living that offered colorful plates of delicate flora and fauna living in the harsh environment. A third book gave me sweeping views of the country. These pages will follow us and be filled with our experiences in Rome, Tuscany, Cinque Terre and Florence.

My kit includes:
• prepared pages
• blunt scissors that I can put in my carry on
• watercolor pencils and small paintbrush
• white pencils to write on uncoated paper
• paint pens to write on glossy paper, and offer contrast in the darker areas on the pages
• glue stick
• poloroid pogo for adding of-the-moment pics to the layouts

Of course, I will be blogging along the way so tune back in September.

xoxSarah

 

Another painting and a story about the Alpine Lodge

When I was almost two-years-old, my parents decided it was time~with four children and one more on the way~to go on an adventure that would shape us all into the people we are today. They bought a lodge on a lake with seven log cabins and a full staff. We moved into the Alpine Lodge Thanksgiving Day 1971.

It was snowing and dark when we finally pulled into the parking circle after a two-day drive from Upstate New York. The former owners, Mr. and Mrs. Ross, were there to greet us. The black painted logs of the low slung buildings contrasted with the eerie blue white of the snow that had been falling for days. The main lodge~with the living quarters, industrial kitchen, dining hall and social room~rested atop a gently sloping hill that rolled out to the shores of Van Vliet Lake. Sidewalks followed the grade down and then branched out to the left and right and led to the single-room cabins along the lake.

We spent the first night in the motel-style rooms just off the drive, mere yards from the entrance to the lodge. The next day, Friday, we unpacked and settled into this place we would call home for the next six years. Of course I don’t remember a bit of this, but to hear mom recall the story in great detail is one of my life’s pleasures.

Before arriving, Dad did research to see what there was to do during the snowy wintertime when the lodge is closed. Snowmobiling was popular, as was cross country skiing. Having never done it before, mom took particular interest in cross-country skiing and bought skis that next weekend. Pregnant with my little sister, mom would spend hours out exploring the surrounding ten acres that came with the property. Soon, the whole family was in on it (I was pulled in a sled until I got my own skis that next winter).

– – – – –

As I worked on this canvas, it took on the look of birch trees in winter (my favorite tree and my favorite time when growing up at the lodge). I continued on that path once I got the hang of applying white-out tape and scratching through it. Just when I felt it was done I was inspired to “tie” a red ribbon on one of the trees as we did back then to mark the cross-country ski trails. Frequent snow storms obliterated the paths and oftentimes we were solely dependent on these red flags to find our way out of the woods. It was a very scary thing to lose sight of the flags, so the red flags always indicated safety.

I dedicate this painting to my mom and dad for taking the great leap of faith of moving the family from an ordinary life into an extraordinary one. I believe we are all braver people willing to take chances and explore the world, even if it seems scary at times. I know I am fearless to try new things and I believe my bravery was instilled in me all those years at the lodge.