An inquiry from a reader finally prompted me to remove the Tumblr music player from the blog. It had been keeping it from loading properly on some computers (including my home computer - though it worked on my Kindle) for some time now. I'm sorry for not addressing this months ago when I first suspected that it was the music player.... Hope it makes the blog load freely for you now and I'm sorry to any of you that have been finding it difficult to view in your browsers.... Hopefully it's working well now. Let me know if you have any difficulties.
Our last two paintings by Raphael for this season are both portraits. This one is presumed to be a painting of the artist himself.
|Presumed Painting of Raphael|
Next week being our last week with this artist, I've prepared a picture album with our new artist in case you want to print the paintings ahead of time - Picasa Web Album of Fitz Henry Lane Paintings. Thanks to A Few of My Favorite Things - Hearth Ridge Reflections (Feb 17) where she posted a picture by Fitz Henry Lane they are studying and I knew he would be a good artist for this next season.
Having listened to Vivaldi's Spring last week, we'll listen to Summer this week and Autumn next week.
Summer by Vivaldi I've come to love this piece of music. I hope you enjoy it, too....
Continuing with our summer theme, even though it is only beginning Spring where I live, our Robert Louis Stevenson poem this week is
Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven with repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider-clad He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hay-loft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bares to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivy's inmost nook. Above the hills, along the blue, Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child, to paint the rose, The gardener of the World, he goes.
And this poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
Song of the Sea
Timeless sea breezes, sea-wind of the night: you come for no one; if someone should wake, he must be prepared how to survive you. Timeless sea breezes, that for aeons have blown ancient rocks, you are purest space coming from afar... Oh, how a fruit-bearing fig tree feels your coming high up in the moonlight.