Archive for the ‘photos’ Category

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Warning: I do not classify myself an artist

It’s amazing what a little colour effects and pic frame can do for a jovial water colour painting on 8×11 print paper!

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Another little exert from the story that is as of yet Untitled but could potentially be called Gray Hayles. It’s coming to me in pieces so it’s not in sequence. I apologize if it is too vague but I’m working on it 🙂

“I woke up with tears pouring from my eyes. I could feel the box screaming at me to be opened. I felt paralyzed as I always did on this day; I slowly pushed my body up, out of bed. I was aching already, the pain was devouring me. I walked over and slid the closet door open. The box burned me as I pulled it from the shelf, the memories were already seeping out, gnawing my skin, scratching my bones, ripping through my heart. I dumped the box on the bed, releasing the smell that it had so tightly kept since the year before. Pictures, notes, books, poems, and her scarf piled my bed. I dropped the box and climbed under the covers. Reaching my hands down, scooping the items up over my torso, submerging my body in the memories, each one like a splash of acid on my soul. I let myself get lost in her essence once a year, attempting to remember every moment we had together. I spent the day scanning every word, every photo, smelling every article, reminiscing every conversation. All the while realizing that none of these things were her, and this stuff could never bring her back. It bothered me that she left, but none of her things went with her? They stayed, haunting me, forcing me to lock them away, denying any memory, accept for one day, this day. I wished I had no memories of her at all. She was too good, She loved so big, she was so honest, so open. She was free; She helped me be free, and then one day she was gone and so was my freedom.”

I love Saskatchewan it is my home. We may not have epic mountains, or wave filled oceans. Yes, it gets frigidly cold and the summers are short, hot and sweet. I find the beauty of this place is in its simplicities. You can see for miles on ground and in the sky. “Out here it is so open and so free and that’s what beauty is for me.” Here is a poem dedicated to this amazing province that I live and a few pictures.

The melting snow of spring,
Brings the birds back to sing.
Water mixes into mud,
and the trees begin to bud.

The humid nights hot on our skin,
the winter was a loss but summer a win.
Flowers and trees full and lush,
the herendous wind creates waves that crush.

The fall inspires, and makes the air clear,
We all know winter is almost here.
Leaves are raked and stratigectly piled,
We hope and pray that winter will be mild.

Sparkling hoar frost lines the trees,
counting the days till we see the leaves.
Winter is hard and very pain-staking,
but the beauty of it is really breath-taking.

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