s’élevant en amour. [Original painting.]


s’élevant en amour / rising in love.

DJDawson 2015

acrylic on canvas

Perception is a funny thing.

What do you see?


14 Dec, 2013. [Journal entry]

From 23F to 30F: freezing rain. Sounds like sandstorm against the window. My daughter watches a new program about a boy with amnesia and no belly button, and I hand-sew the smokestack to a Christmas stocking train.

In a month or so, much will change (if I believe the real estate professionals):  we could be re-nested before Ground Hog Day.

Yesterday, going to work, a young buck leaped right in front of my car. I caught his eye, and he mine as he decided to fly over our road, about five feet from my moving car. It took my breath away, literally. (Some of you know, that since moving into this house four and a half years ago, I have asked quietly and regularly to see deer as proof that someone is listening.) Last Christmas Eve just before reaching our driveway, on my way home to fetch forgotten gifts, a mature doe leaped out of the preserve across the street and wide-eyed, reared on hind legs, twisting into her lightening retreat.

I love signs.


Instruction Manual. [14 Dec., 2012]

I believe in signs.
The kind you ask for when you’re lost.
The kind of signs that often appear from praying aloud (or begging), “Could you please send me a sign?”
And they do appear – on their own schedule when you least expect to see them.

Yesterday, after work, I came home to a house with no heat ( plenty of oil but the line had clogged with air. 48F degrees in the living room), no cat food (angry cats), an ornery teen for whom I can do no right, an affection-starved dog, a wrong number on the answering machine, and a puddle: two inches of standing water where the first floor shower is suddenly leaking into the basement. I turned around and went to rehearsal.

Talked to myself the whole 30-minute ride there, and, three hours later, the dark ride home.

Before leaving rehearsal, we – director, his wife, all the six actors – all stood in the picketed yard and watched Geminids shoot across the heavens. I saw three bright shooting stars and decided I had three wishes to ask. So, alone in my car, talking aloud to whomever listens to that sort of thing, I asked for three things. One of them, a sign.

This morning, I taught myself how to bleed the boiler, prime the burner and restart the contraption. It’s heating as you read. And, for the first time since we moved here, there are deer in our wood. Two, very small – almost tiny – whitetail. Tenderly looking for delicacies in the deadwood.

Already this is a better day.