Every day this past week has begun and ended with the wailings of the fog horns echoing in our bay, cloaked in a veil of mystery. During the day the sun’s warmth evaporates the mist, unmasking emerald landscapes filled with splashes of ginger and gold. Bales of hay, corn stalks, pumpkins and baskets filled with... Continue Reading →
“Folding chairs? Seriously Kate?” My friend Jane laughed as she grabbed our seats before heading out onto the deck. “They will suffice for today,” I said closing the sliding door behind me. “The good furniture will come out in May. I just wanted to get out here and breathe in some of this magical spring... Continue Reading →
The blended aroma of fresh coffee and out-of-the-oven croissants greeted me as I entered my friend’s country kitchen. Jane grabbed her grandmother’s rose patterned fruit bowl off the counter. I picked up the coffee pot and together we headed toward the sunny breakfast nook with its bistro table set for two. “I must tell you... Continue Reading →
“Here’s something. Remember the big wildfire that was in the news last year?” asked Jim rustling his newspaper. “Yup,” said Gladys rolling the pastry dough. “Well apparently this young couple spent their winter months felling and milling lifeless tree trunks from their barren woodlot.” “What for? That charred looking grove will be filled with beautiful... Continue Reading →
It takes courage for artists to share their creative work with the public and Charli Mills has given a safe place to so many of us writers to do just that: explore, create and share. I’m grateful to Charli for inviting me to kick-start the 2018 Raw Literature series at Carrot Ranch. Check out my post about the symbiotic relationship between art and creativity.
Raw Literature by Kate Spencer
“So, who do you think painted this piece of work?”
Our European Art History instructor leaned against the rugged steel table at the front of the classroom. I stared at the image on the screen. The painting was of a solemn moment in time, a woman all decked in bright white kneeing before an altar.
“Rembrandt?” someone called out hesitantly.
“No. Anyone else want to try?”
“El Greco?” said the woman beside me.
“No.” The instructor glanced around the classroom and with no further guesses forthcoming he gave us the answer. “It was Pablo Picasso.”
There was silence as we all digested this bit of information. A lone voice echoed our thoughts from the back of the room.
“Picasso’s paintings were abstract with distorted figures. This doesn’t look like his work at all.”
“True,” replied our instructor. “Those were his later works. Like all great…
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Our story begins on Christmas Eve, 1818. Joseph Mohr, a young man of humble beginnings with an aptitude for music, has settled into his role as the assistant priest for the St. Nicholas parish in Oberndorf. It’s a village north of Salzburg, situated along the Salzach River. Until recently it had served as an important waterway... Continue Reading →
