Tag Archives: Painting

Letters from Mother 10

2 Aug

My Take

DiVoran Lites

August 10, 1983

Dear Ones,

Well, I finally settled down to write, but I suspect it will be a quicky. Judy arrived on Friday, and we’ve been having a good time doing all the things we did last summer. I sat on my rock at the beach today and took a picture of the big tree and roots I mentioned last week.

Judy, Smithy, and Waunita went to Victoria yesterday, it was warm and sunny, and they had a good time.

Photo credit Pixabay

 Ivan and I kept the place running. I did laundry at Waunitas and then studied my notes and some other books about painting. I am trying to learn about glazing and scumbling by tomorrow. I was supposed to learn it last week, but I got behind when I tried to free-hand draw the fishing shacks and didn’t catch up. So the picture of Paris in the rain looks like Paris in the rain, but I’m not sure I like it, and I feel quite distressed. Most of the other students were quick enough to do it. Maybe they know some things I don’t. Anyway, tomorrow is painting day. 

Photo credit Pixabay

Smithy sold his big old caterpillar for 15,00 or 17,00. He won’t be using it for the campground anymore. I guess he has dug up and moved all the dirt he wanted to move.

Pauline and her husband J. Y. arrived yesterday as they do every summer. They’ll be here for two months. J.Y. and another man took out two fishing boats, so we’ll have fresh fish for dinner when they get back. 

Photo credit Pixabay

I loved hearing about the peacocks and everything else at Deleon Springs State Park. I remembered that a lizard dropped from a palm tree onto my head, but I also remember swimming in the spring and thinking about Ponce de Leon telling people this water would make us live forever. I know I felt very healthy after swimming at the spring. Bet I would be even warmer in July than November. 

Photo credit Pixabay

I’d love to have lunch with you and your friend when we come again.  Has she found a car she wants yet? That seems like a job for a man. In our family, it has always been for men to decide about cars.

Thank you for your compliment about writing. You are just saying that, so I’ll become all flowery of speech and continue to “go for it” language-wise. But it is fun and goes along with observations for painting. 

Yes, I think I’ve read Daddy Longlegs. Perhaps there was a movie by that name. Anyhow it sounds familiar and good.  I remember The Egg and I from the old books too.

Dad brought in the last of the crab. Come on over for supper.

Adios again,

Love, Mother

It’s getting cooler; time to close the door and take a nap, may need the heater on or the electric blanket to sleep on. 

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

Sleeping-Do Not Disturb

23 Mar

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

Christmas 2015 I gave my husband a life altering gift and the interesting part is that I gave it to him on a whim. Here is the story.

Our granddaughter loves drawing  and painting so each Christmas we give her some form of art supplies. I usually pick them up through out the year when they are on sale. This particular Christmas, I realized that I had more gifts for her than our grandson and we all know that wouldn’t play well. What to do…? Then I remembered that my husband had been taking “night” art classes, as in while he was asleep. Apparently, the voice tone of painter Bob Ross lulled him to sleep. So on aforementioned whim I wrapped the art supplies and put them under the tree.

Christmas morning he was quite surprised when he opened the gift, but he thanked me nicely. Fast forward to January 29, 2016. He was bored and decided to pull out the art supplies and play with them. This is the result.

I think we were both shocked. His success set him on course to actively pursue learning about painting. He watches videos while he is awake! He is also mentored by our friend, DiVoran Lites. I think he is getting better with  every painting and sometimes I am stunned when I walk past his open door and see what he is creating. I particularly like this one he painted last week. I am thrilled with his newly discovered talent. He has always wanted to be able to capture life on canvas, but never dreamed he could.

All of this led me to wonder whether our sleep and or dreams do affect our waking life. I am beyond blessed to know without a doubt that God loves me. I have mused in the past on what my parents did to instill this into my heart. Looking back, I think it came to me while I was sleeping.  As a small child, I found church service made me sleepy, so I would lay my head in someone’s lap and take a nap while the good news of God’s love and Jesus plan for salvation was spoken. Plus, my parents attended a weekly prayer service that was held in someone’s home. They called them cottage prayer meetings.There would be a lot of singing and praying and I would find an out of the way place, my favorite being under a coffee table, and fall asleep. I have vague memories of feeling the  hymns wash over me as I drifted in the half awake/half sleep state.

Science tells us that sleep time is when the body repairs itself. So it stands to reason it can also be a time when our brain carries out its unique functions. Sleep matters and so does what we listen to while we sleep!

Teddy and Praise Dancer

7 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist


My pal Onisha and I sometimes get into writing letters as they were written earlier in our lives. Now they seem old-fashioned because of the way we meandered when we wrote them, but since it’s almost Christmastime, we thought you might like another glimpse at the way things were.


Here are a couple of our old friends. Teddy is on your left and Praise Dancer on your right. I imagine you figured that out.

Teddy and Praise Dancer


Onisha: Adorable!!  Are these friends at your house?

DiVoran: Yes, they live in the scriptorium. Mother crocheted Teddy’s clothes. I’ve had him since I was five. That makes him sixty-two years old, and he’s an excellent listener.

Onisha: I wondered who crocheted Teddy’s outfit. How wonderful that you have been able to keep Teddy and his clothes all these years without loving him to pieces.

It’s wonderful to have him. Mother crocheted two outfits when she was here one year, so his clothes aren’t vintage. Mother could just look at something and crochet it, but she never figured out how to follow a pattern. Crocheting was the way my mom kept her sanity. We can all use a pastime that will do that for us. She made decorative pillow covers, granny patterned Afghans, and lap robes for the nursing home. When she was ninety, she crocheted butterflies and attached magnets so you could put them on your refrigerator. All friends and family had something she had made, but only Kewpie Doll has this little set.



Onisha: People like that have an inner eye that can see how things go together. It is a gift. What is the story behind Praise Dancer?

DiVoran: You are so kind to ask. Sure, Praise Dancer has a story.

When Julia Cameron wrote another book after “The Artist’s Way,” I rushed to buy it. One of her assignments in “The Vein of Gold,” was to, “make a creativity doll.” That’s how I got Praise Dancer. With a few items from the Craft Department she became something besides a cotton body, curly hair from a package, and a bit of tulle and paint. She and Teddy have been good friends for about twenty years. Poor Raggedy Ann used to be Teddy’s best friend but she now lives in the old doll cradle with the “Winnie the Pooh” gang. Alas, although Praise Dancer doesn’t have a heart she is still a sweet girl and she loves the Lord. I suspect she dances for Him when we are sleeping.


Onisha: Praise Dancer does not need a heart on the outside, it shines on her face

DiVoran: Here’s Teddy and Raggedy Ann, they were so glad to have a visit during the photo shoot.

Teddy and Rageddy Ann


DiVoran: Thank you for saying Praise Dancer was loving as well as beautiful.


Painting Flowers

25 May

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

 Paint comes in wondrous hues, Reds,

Daily Diary Day Three~Not Really Alone

12 May

My Take

DiVoran Lites

It’s three-thirty in the afternoon. “The Swan,” from, “Carnival of the Animals,” plays on my Pandora streaming radio. Bright pinwheels on the fence send shards of light past the open French Doors into Author, Poet and Artistmy office-family-room-kitchen. Staccato sounds fill the air as a heavy-duty staple-gun blasts into terrazzo floor, pinning down a new carpet in the house across the street, a woodpecker hammers on metal, and a cardinal sings his spring song, tu-tu-tu.

So far, this has been a great day, though when I awoke this morning I felt that I wasn’t going to be able to stand another two weeks of Bill’s absence. I woke up wondering whom I should call. What should I do in order not to be lonely? All my small worries came flooding in like wind and rain from a big storm. Bill has been gone a whole two days in which I have not significantly spoken to anyone except him on the phone–long distance.

I dragged myself from the bed, put on my at-home clothes, fed the cats, made coffee, and sat down for my quiet time. It needed something extra today. Should I write out more scriptures? Vent my worries? Read from, Streams in the Desert, which is my go-to devotional book for hard times? My iPod was near so I connected it to my tiny round speaker and began to feel better the second the music started. I picked up a fun and funny book I have that gives prompts of things to draw and writes and tells about what special month or day I it is. I hadn’t read the two introductory pages to April yet, so I chose that.

I liked a picture of an archway with a blue door, bright flowers, and a dog. Oh well, I’d take the time to draw it, and then get serious with journaling, praying, reading. Watercolor paints and water-soluble

Up Into The Light by Melody Hendrix

Up Into The Light by Melody Hendrix

pastels lay nearby so I chose some. The pens beckoned. Before I knew it, color flooded the paper before me. That painting finished, I began to look into some of my others. This one needed something, that one would be useful for something else. The morning passed in happy contemplation of things I could do with my favorite pastime.

And here is something else—a new thought to me. I don’t have to have one favorite thing, because of course I love painting, writing, being with friends and family, all the movies I like are my favorites, all the books I keep and read are my favorites. My life was expanding and at the same time, I was having a wonderful time.

I have beaten the blues for today. But I have not been alone for one minute. God was with me all along. For this day, He didn’t want me too serious, but uplifted, and encouraged. Not once for the rest of the day did I give a thought as to who I ought to call or what I should do with my time. The day took care of itself. What a wonderful freedom not to have to worry about it anymore.

“I can do all things (or nothing much, if that’s His plan) through Christ who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13) and “In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

What’s Your Favorite Color

24 Sep


My Take

DiVoran Lites

I like them all. Today I like turquoise. A beautiful book arrived in the mail, Inspired and Unstoppable, by Tama Kieves. It is pale turquoise. Crayons are perfect for marking passages, so I chose a turquoise one and a turquoise Pentel Pen (my favorite brand for many years.)

Onisha and Pam are coming over this afternoon and I wanted to wear a special tee shirt with my jean shorts. You guessed it, I picked turquoise with a faint violet thread through it.

I just bought new patio cushions, and they are turquoise. Funny how it just jelled today that it’s the color I now love best.

I don’t know what formal meaning this color has, but to me it means water, sky, mom, because she loved it. Color Me Beautiful, by Carole Jackson says it is the color most people look good in. If a color lifts your spirits, wear it, sleep in it, bathe in it, and love it.

I like books about color, and I’ve picked up a few quirky ideas by reading them. People debate this, but it is said that the color Indian Yellow, which is a bright yellow with a lot of orange in it is made by feeding mangos to cows then collecting their urine and using it as an ingredient in paint. Saffron is another yellow. It comes from the tiny pistil of a flower. Yes, its’ the same saffron that’s used in food. It costs $1,000 a pound, so as far as paints go, I’m glad we have the wonderful synthetics we have. Before that artists ground rocks to make ochre and other earth colors. Carmine came from the cochineal bug. Our foremothers, as we know, used plants to make indigo, what would we do without it? It’s the color of our jeans, but also now synthetic.

Color took off when car manufacturers began formulating acrylics in all the beautiful colors we see on the road. On the road and on my palette, I love them.

Last week in Sunday School the children helped me make up a story about a little girl named mud and how miserable and unhappy she was. She pouted all the time and had no friends. She preferred to sit in ashes. Her mother called on the Prince of Peace, he came and opened up her heart, and suddenly her world was full of color. Of course, she had to have a new dress, her old one was raw umber. A tentative “pink,” came out of a little girl’s mouth, but soon colors flew around the room so fast I couldn’t get them all on the board. Then the solution came: a rainbow dress. Oh yes, and in our imaginations it was beautiful.

The next thing was a name and another barrage of very nice names hit the board. How could we choose? Then Aaron, a six year old gave us a name. I wrote it phonetically, but I can’t tell you now what it was. It was colorful to be sure. We all knew spontaneously that it was a spectacular name for her. We’d call her by its last three letters, Zia. We can only trust that Mud, now, Zia, loved her name and her dress as much as we did. Now, what’s your favorite color?

John 7:38


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