Excuse my disparaging the piddly amount of coverage we woke to Christmas morning. The morning of the 26th we awoke to INCHES and more fell, for a total of around 8". It was lovely, fluffy stuff, light enough to fill in under trees and the chicken run's roof and through the barn door. I turned the horses out to play in it and even rode in it, but chose not to try driving in it until Tuesday, when enough tracks had been made by Rick's big, sometimes chained-up, vet truck to allow my car some traction.
Don't worry; I kept the resident hummers fed.
Looking down our icy lane toward home on Monday
The paved road toward town looked a little better
You'd think Poppy, with no fat or fur to speak of, would be ill-suited to snow and cold, but she dashed out into it at every opportunity, hoping to catch the birds and raccoons drawn by the black oil sunflower seeds or search the barn for mice.
Rick and I have both engaged in some handiwork at the end of the year. Rick turned a unique creation out of cherry for a client who gave him the wood,
and I put the finishing touches on my egg ornaments (as well as spinning, of course; there's almost always spinning!):
Saving a glitter fail with a silvery snowflake.
More snowflakes! My neighbor gave them to me.
More eggs now, and most of those eggs are adorned.
It's warmed up a little and rain has fallen most of the day, so our winter wonderland is returning to green, and mud. No special plans here for the weekend, other than an "agape feast" tomorrow night at church, our usual services on Sabbath – and my New Year's tradition of spending some time on horseback to start my year off right in at least one small but significant-to-me way. It's about the only thing I can control!
Beyond Van Gogh is described as an "immersive experience," and that it is. I had seen TV advertisements for it so had an idea of what we might see, so was unprepared for the pedestrian beginning. When you enter, you wind through lanes of storyboards and quotes printed on giant details of Van Gogh's paintings. I enjoyed reading them all (not all shown here), as well as seeing his brush strokes magnified. I had to clarify for Rick that he was seeing small details of Van Gogh's work, not the whole piece.
From there we walked into a room with rather psychedelic lights streaming down the wall in front of us, with one of the artist's self portraits materializing and then vanishing in the projection. At this point I think Rick was really wondering what he was getting himself in for!
Then we walked down a corridor and into a giant room, where Van Gogh's work played upon the four walls as well as several tall square 'columns.' And I do mean played. The transitions from one set of images to another was done in a variety of ways, and the images themselves played little tricks, like blinking eyes, and an occasional wisp of smoke from a pipe. Music played, and occasionally a child's voice quoted Van Gogh. This was the truly magical part, to watch and listen and almost feel the artwork swirl around you and even wash over you.
The musical selection for this post is obvious. It was part of the background music played at the exhibit, and it has been on my mind a lot since. So bittersweet:
I am so thankful to my DH for this special experience; it truly was a gift of love.
I'm a homeschooling, horse training, animal loving, garden growing, part-time business running, spinning and knitting shepherd who loves the Great Shepherd.
