Sunflowers, oil on canvas, 30x40

By Carrie Jacobson
The moon was so bright last night it cast shadows on the snowless, frozen ground. And this morning, I heard the springtime calls of birds.

Spring will come, though winter barely visited – and for me, it can’t come soon enough.

The little teeny early spring daffodils are poking up in the garden. As I drove on the highway the other day, I could see the red tinge of buds on the tips of the trees. Often, in the morning, there’s the springtime smell of earth thawing, that rich, dark smell that must evoke some basic essence in us all, some ancestral connection with the soil.

Yes, there are piles of snow in the yard, and yes, my fingers freeze when I take the dogs out in the morning – but soon enough, even the dawn air will be warm, and the grass will green up, and the sunflowers will begin to bloom.

Rainbow Sunflowers

By Carrie Jacobson
Winter has settled in for what appears to be a short visit. I find I’m liking the snow, how it half-covers the still green grass, the unraked leaves, the tree trunks downed by the summer’s storms.

I like the white sky and how the patches of white above and below show off the tips of the bushes in the yard, reddening with the whispered promise of spring.

I heard a spring bird four days ago, and doubted my ears. Heard it again three days ago. And today, Peter says there are bluebirds in the grove.

So I have painted sunflowers, sunflowers of wild, marbled colors, sunflowers that sing with the song of summer birds, come calling in the winter’s snow.

This painting is part of the Passages project – 100 10-inch by 10-inch paintings, each on sale for $100. Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you’re interested in this one, and check my website to see more of these paintings!

By Carrie Jacobson
The represented artists’ show at the Wallkill River School Gallery on Saturday was hot, chaotic, crowded – and fun! It is always a pleasure to meet new people, and especially new people interested in art. And it was just so great to see my old friends, artists and nonartists alike.

I met three Zest of Orange readers at the show, and that was such a treat!

Before the show even began, a woman came up to me and told me that she remembered “The Christmas Surprise,” one of the fictional serials I wrote for the Times Herald-Record. That conversation made my day!

And then the artists began coming in, and setting up, and it was like greeting my adopted family after a long absence.

There was Shawn Dell Joyce, with whom I’m showing at the Wallkill River School Gallery in April, and who I called before I made my first painting, when I realized I had no idea how to do a background.

There was Bruce Thorne, the first person I ever saw painting with a palette knife, and there was his wife, Lita Thorne, who showed me how to push limits and be unafraid to make my own paintings.

There was George Hayes, with whom I had my first show, and Nancy Reed Jones, with whom I had one of my best painting days ever. There was kindred spirit and animal lover Lisa O’Gorman, and the ever so talented Mary Muegle Sealfon and Janet Campbell, and scores of others who shared their secrets and their inspiration with me, and helped me begin to learn how to paint.

So yes, it was too hot, and too crowded, and too nuts for words, but it was great fun, and greatly reassuring, too. I am so proud to be included as one of the represented artists in the gallery. I am in such excellent company.

At the Edge of the Sound

By Carrie Jacobson
Hard to know, today, what day it is, what month it is, what year it is. The Sunday holidays, followed by the Monday holiday days off have left me in a state of befuddlement. OK, it is the state where I have my primary residence, but usually I live more or less near the border. Right now, I seem to have moved to the exact middle.

So be it. If age and my previous lifestyle have left me like this, well, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the getting here. If this winter’s landscape looks like last spring’s, well, that’s OK, too, and easier on the pocketbook, considering the cost of heating oil.

If you’d like to see more paintings by me, by Shawn Dell Joyce, and by the other artists of the Wallkill River School, please stop by the gallery on Saturday from 5 to 7 p.m. The gallery (and the school) are at 232 Ward St., (which is also Route 17K) in Montgomery. Click here to get to the website for directions and more info.

The show is a group show of artists represented by the gallery, and in fun and wild chaos, we will all be demonstrating during the show!

If  you do come, please say hello – and plan to come back in April, when Shawn Dell Joyce and I will have a show together at the gallery.

By Carrie Jacobson
These white mornings, these moon-full nights, this season of joy and tension and love and despair unfolds in all its glory and its grief, and I remember and I hope.

I remember my mother, and how she loved Christmas. I remember my childhood, and my wonder and awe. I remember our family, whole and happy and filled with love and adoration, and even now, when it all seems somehow too much and nowhere near enough, I can recapture moments, and hold them close. And hope.

It came upon the midnight clear

That glorious song of old

From angels bending near the earth

To touch their harps of gold.

“Peace on the Earth, good will to men

From heaven’s all glorious King!”

The world in solemn stillness lay

To hear the angels sing.

December in Virginia

By Carrie Jacobson
Some things I’ve been thinking about:

It’s interesting how much difference snow makes in the feeling of Christmas. You can have all the lights in the world, but without snow, it just doesn’t feel quite like the holiday.

***

When did Dec. 5 become a time for “last-minute shopping?” (I heard several ads on that day reaching out to last-minute shoppers).

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When did the day after Halloween become the day it is OK to start decorating and talking about Christmas? I remember being appalled at ads that came out before Thanksgiving.

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I heard someone on TV say that it was a nice idea to bring a gift card as a hostess present. I beg to differ. Why not just hand the hostess a $10 bill?

***

On the other hand, the kids all want gift cards. I’m happy to comply, in a way, but I have realized, in my compliance, that for me, part of the whole thing really is the shopping. The looking, the seeking, the thrill of finding something that might be perfect, and then that funny thing you do when you imagine the person receiving the gift, and see his or her expression, and then you know whether to buy it or put it back. At least, I do that.

***

I wanted a guest soap for the bathroom, and went into Bathworks in our downtrodden local mall, and asked the woman in there for soap.

“Oh,” she said, “we have lots of soap,” and she gestured at shelf after shelf after shelf of liquid soap.

“No,” I said. “Bar soap.”

“What’s that?” she said.

I kid you not.

***

P.S. If you have not already finished your last-minute shopping, why not consider buying a piece of art from a local artist? The Wallkill River School Gallery has a lovely show on right now with local art, and of course, you can always reach people like me through the internet. Email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you want to find out more about the painting at the top of this post. Or check out my website – jacobson-arts.com, or my own blog, The Accidental Artist.

Clinton Marsh

By Carrie Jacobson
Winter is taking its time getting here, and that is OK with me. I find I am loving the muted, color-drained landscapes, pewter instead of chrome, maroon instead of crimson, bronze instead of shining gold. There’s something calming and reassuring in it for me, and it’s pushing me in new directions with my paintings.

Also, former hippie that I am, I find a peculiar delight in a certain sensory confusion that befalls me in spring and in these sorts of falls. I will be walking or driving along, and, especially if the air is sweet and damp and there’s a crisp breeze, I have trouble recognizing the season. Is it March? Is it November? I stumble into these confusions and why I enjoy them, I can’t say, but I do.

I hope you all have blessed Thanksgivings, filled with love and family and the joys of the season.

Wachapreague, VA

By Carrie Jacobson

Sometimes, I feel like I stumble onto things. Sometimes, I feel like I am led.

I was driving back to New England from North Carolina when I turned off the main road and found this small fishing village, at the edge of the most beautiful, pristine salt marsh on the east coast. It is a United Nations-recognized Biosphere Reserve, one of the last large wetlands habitats in the world, according to one of the websites.

About 200 people live there, in this sun-soaked, wind-blown, golden place. It is all sky and light, as pure and clean and lovely as any place I’ve ever been.

I felt I belonged there, maybe more than any place I’ve ever been.

This time, I didn’t stumble. This time, I was led.

If you’re interested in this painting, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com. It might not be for sale, but it might. It is 20 inches by 20 inches, oil on canvas.

Dunes, Ocracoke

By Carrie Jacobson

Finally, finally, I have been freed for a vacation!

I left home Friday at noon, and arrived in Cape Hatteras on Saturday. Sunday morning, I took the ferry to Ocracoke Island, and began painting.

This was the first painting I made on Sunday, and while I was making it, I began to understand some things about myself and what attracts me – or at least, what is attracting me on this trip.

You think “Outer Banks” and you think water and waves and beaches – or at least, I do. But on Sunday, I realized that for me, it’s not that. It’s the dunes and the sky.

Beaches and waves I can get in Westerly, R.I., near our Connecticut home.

Dunes – backbones of the earth, raw and rhythmic, dunes are what call me. Long skeins of dunes, under a huge and unbroken sky, these pull at my eye and my heart and all my senses.

I don’t pretend to understand this. But seeing them, and painting them makes me happy. And so, on this narrow, windswept island, I am painting dunes and not questioning my soul.

Black Dirt Overlook

By Carrie Jacobson
At the end of this week, I am heading to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, to get away, to see something new, to paint.

Since my job at the Record was eliminated, I’ve been able to take a lengthy painting trip every year. This year, I haven’t had the chance. The others have been three to four weeks, marathons of painting and discovery, exhausting and exhilarating and filled with energy to last me through the year.

This won’t be as long, but my hunger for it will give me in depth what I will be missing in length.

I do feel a little odd leaving New England at the height of autumn — but the colors aren’t bright enough to hold me — and I have seen this before. My eyes need something new.

I think all our eyes need something new, even if it is just for a glance, just for a moment. We need to look away, go away, see afar or microscopically close — and then, the middle distance looks fresh again.

I will do my best to remember to post a painting from North Carolina for next week’s Zest!

If you are interested in “Black Dirt Overlook,” which is oil on canvas, 18×36, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com