love what it loves

This time of year I tend to be reflective, melancholy-longing for those not near...


You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

November, remains of the day

 oil & cold wax on canvas, 18x18in, copyright Jan Yates 2014

sold

an August day

So here's an end of roaming
On eves when autumn nighs:  
The ear too fondly listens
For summer's parting sighs,  
And then the heart replies.   

-AE Housman

at the end an August day, absent voices accompany me

August

 remains of the day

 oil on canvas, plein air, 20x24in

copyright Jan Yates 2014

available

 

remains of the day

After being in Spring (Vancouver was resplendent with new growth-forsythia, daffodils, flowering trees)-I was not thrilled about returning to our Ontario winter. 

 Needless to say it was a pleasant surprise to be greeted with a warm sun melting the mounds of snow-things were starting to thaw.

 

 

It felt great to find my paints after going without for ten days. The spring warmth was enough for me to stand outside on the front porch and make a little painting –a wee promise.

 March, Remans of the Day, oil on canvas, plein air, 8x10in, copyright Jan yates 2014

 under 200 incl. tax. Visa, Paypal, Mastercard. 

 inquire here

Thaw

milkweed, goldenrod, snow. copyright Jan Yates 2014

the kind of September

      
Try to remember the kind of September

When life was slow and oh

so mellow.

Try to remember the kind of September

When grass was green and grain was yellow.

Try to remember the kind of September

When you were a tender and callow fellow.

Try to remember and if you remember

then follow, follow.

Try to remember when life was so tender

When no one wept except the willow.

Try to remember when life was so tender

When dreams were kept beside your pillow.

Try to remember when life was so tender

When love was an ember about to billow.

Try to remember and if you remember

then follow, follow.

 Deep in December it's nice to remember

Although you know the snow will follow.

Deep in December it's nice to remember

Without a hurt the heart will hollow.

Deep in December

it's nice to remember

The fire of September that made you mellow.

Deep in December our hearts should remember and follow, follow.

written by Tom Jones and Harvey Shmidt

September, remains of the day, Niagara Escarpment, plein air, oil on canvas, 11x14in, available