Barnmouse No. 2

This could possibly be the same mouse as Barnmouse No. 1, but I'm pretty sure it's not.

Inasmuch as I see them for only minutes each day, I have been able to discern different personalities. Barnmouse No. 1 is bold and daring. He barely hesitates in coming to claim his morning peanut. This one here will come out of the hole under the wall when I call to him, ("Good Morning, Little Mice!") but he (or she, I have no way of knowing!) is more hesitant to claim his morning prize.

This morning, I laid a peanut on the edge of the 2 x 4 that Mouse No. 1 is perched on in his portrait below, and waited a mere second for him to claim it. No. 2 met him on his way into an adjacent hole behind a post, and I could hear them tussling over it. Maybe they shared. It was a big peanut. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a silent observer of mouse society in the barn!

Once again, using the limited four-color palette of Rembrandt. He knew his stuff!

Barnmouse No. 2

Oil on Board

3.5" x 5"

$40.00

http://www.katywidger.com/

Barnmouse

I know, you'd probably rather see this little guy with his neck in a mousetrap, or not at all. But, a whole family of these cute little guys live in my barn. We used to trap them. But, slowly, over the months, I grew used to them and looked forward to seeing them every day. (Plus, we have a resident weasel who furnishes rodent control on a regular basis.) Then, I started talking to them every morning. Slowly, they got used to my presence and quit scurrying away when I turned on the light. I almost hate to admit this, but, it's true. They now take peanuts from my hand, and actually come and sit on my feet, and look up at me with their little hands reaching out for that peanut. I know, I know! They're rodents, vermin, mice! But they're so cute! They look just like those little Disney mice that pull Cinderella's carriage. I can't kill them. That's the weasel's job. I don't want to know about it!
I painted this "alla prima" using the four-color palette of Rembrandt: white, black, cadmium red and yellow ochre. Took about three hours. It's only 3.5" x 5", but the little guy is just about life-size.
Oil on board
"Barn Mouse No. 1"
$40.00
katy@katywidger.com

Blind Travelin' Silver Dog

Meet here Panchen, Gompa Apso from Tibet.

He has literally traveled the world and lives now in his forever home with his new person and three of his Apso clansmen.

Blind, yet his vision extends over the miles to look into my heart.

Fare thee well, Silver Dog!

8" x 10"

Oil on canvas board

Be Thou My Vision...

This is a rough sketch of a blind dog. His name is Panchen, and he is a Gompa Apso from Tibet.

He came to this country, the United States, for the purpose of saving his kind by virtue of his unique and precious genes. He has walked that path, passed on his genes to a new generation of Tibetan Apsos. Now, he is adjusting to a new life among his kin at the private home of a kindred spirit, where he can live out his sightless life in safety and love and acceptance.

I have been walking a path through the darkness in my own life. Often, I have wondered what it would be like to be physically blind. We talk about "blind faith". We ask of the LORD, "Be Thou my vision.." The Word tells us that "faith comes by hearing, and not by sight," meaning that we listen with our hearts. We seek to enlighten our souls with the vision of the heart, as we walk by faith, and not by sight.

Now comes a blind dog to show me the way. He is not mine; my only connection to him is one of empathy, yet he is present in my prayers. Right now, he must re-align himself with the new world that is his universe. He must do so relying strictly on his intuition, his sense of smell and hearing, and the vision of his heart. Surely, this Spirit of Dignity is guided by the Source of All That IS.

My heart aligns itself with yours, Panny.

Friends, Old and New!

We outlive these dearest of friends,
with broken hearts that will never mend.
A loss so great, it wounds to the core,
never forgotten, those who came before.

Relationships forged though time and trial,
until they walk that last final mile,
and when they pass from beyond our sight,
remain close in our heart, though gone in the night.

Tears come easily each time we recall,
how much they gave; they gave us their all!
Now waiting for us, on the far other side,
they’ll be there when our door opens wide.

We cannot remain, endure on memory alone,
without the true love we have intimately known;
We can only be consoled by another new joy,
the next incomparable canine girl or boy!

So now it’s a couple of Apso’s turn,
To give great love, from whom to learn,
that life is more than it appears to be,
a proving ground and the truth to see.

Zooming is how our lives should be run,
full-speed racing, bonzai fun!
No time to worry or time to be mad,
too precious to squander, just being sad.

Advice not taken, they sleep on the bed,
Making a pillow of their master’s head.
Demanding another backyard ‘poke’;
make up the rules, or tell an Apso joke!

Yes, Adam knew just what he had done,
when he named the dog, a most fitting one.
God spelled backward, and that’s just in case,
We ever forget this wondrous gift of grace!

by Ken R. Widger

copyright 2008

.

"Champion FFT All Said and Done"

6" x 8"

Oil on canvasboard

Katy Widger

copyright 2008

Maxwell

You know how the approach of the New Year sometimes makes you nostalgic for old friends, long gone. Here's one. He was a magnificent Golden Retriever. Actually, 1/16th Coon Hound, which meant he had a magnificent nose to go with that handsome face, and some red in his curly coat of hair. He was my husband's best friend before I met him, and he became my best friend, too, after we married. Such a lover he was! He had been a hunting dog, a retreiver of ducks, geese and pheasant in water or out. But when my husband gave up hunting in exchange for a more compassionate heart, Max was left with no choice but to retrieve newspapers and shoes. Once, he brought us every newspaper in the neighborhood! I spent all morning returning them.

Friend of all, he didn't have a mean bone in his body. Children and toddlers were safe in his care. Kittens, too, nestled between his legs for a warm, secure nap. We were foster parents to a dogey lamb one season, and Max took over its care until a more suitable mom could be found. His love was no respecter of specie!

He lived a long and happy life of sixteen years, and we know exactly where he is right now.

He's fishin' with Leo, my father-in-law, down on the River, there on the Other Side!

We'll see you later, Ole Bud!

"Maxwell in the Mountains"

Graphite on paper

11" x 14"

San Franciso de Assis

This is a painting of the front that famous church in Taos, New Mexico, San Francisco de Assis, or St. Francis of Assisi. You know, the one that Georgia O'Keefe made famous. She painted the back of it because she was drawn, as are many artists, myself included, to the abstract geometric forms of the massive adobe walls, and the way their uneven surface reflects the ethereal light of northern New Mexico.

On Christmas Eve, the walls and roof of that church are lined with little brown paper bags filled part way with sand. A votive candle is placed in them, and lit at sundown. They are called "farolitos" in Northern New Mexico, and "luminarios" in Albuquerque and points further south. There's an ongoing dispute about the proper name, but it's all in good humor. Sort of like whether biscochitos should be made with lard or butter. It's our state cookie and there is an official recipe, of course. I make mine with butter and brandy, but have no argument with those who prefer lard and sweet wine.

The luminarios are a long established part of New Mexico Christmas culture. Right now, my husband is busy filling our little bags with sand and we'll light the candles at sunset, before we go off to church. There is a full moon tonight. The only thing that would make it even more perfect is if it would snow. We'll come home to the flickering glow of those candles, warmed by the humble brown paper bags, and eat our posole and have a biscochito with some brandied coffee for desert, while we light the final candle in our Advent Wreath. A uniquely New Mexican Christmas Eve and a tradition we have followed for many years!
Those flickering candles have more meaning to us than mere decoration on a special night. On a long journey to Bethlehem, they illuminate the path for the donkey to trod, carrying his precious cargo of Mother and Child, soon to be born in a stable, filled with the warmth and adoration of the animals there. And into this dark night, this world filled with war and death and hopelessness, the Christ Child comes to bring true Peace of the Soul. Joy, unspeakable, overflowing our hearts until tears pour from our eyes with the excess! Love, unexpressable love, that will not let us go! Receive Him tonight! Light the way in your heart for the Christ Child to come in and give you the Gifts He has promised! Love, Peace and Joy! Merry Christmas, Saviour Divine!

(This painting is sold, but a similar one is available at http://www.katywidger.com/)