With Eyes Open

Several months ago, I was bereft at learning that my eye doctor was moving her practice to Phoenix.  With eye concerns requiring a visit every 3 months, losing this trusted long-term relationship was huge. 

After months of researching choices available within a reasonable driving distance, I’m thrilled to have found another gem:  Ophthalmologist Dr. Robert Mahanti in Flagstaff. 

Extremely knowledgeable, he conducted tests no other ophthalmologist has done before, providing new and very hopeful information for me.  His intake technician, Ellie, is equally impressive.  

A highly-skilled specialist and surgeon, Dr. Mahanti is also kind to his staff, which is just as important to me. 

Highly recommended, by these happy eyes. 

“With Eyes Open”, © 2012 Cathy Gazda, 3” x 8.5”, Graphite on paper.  ♥ 

Blues I Choose

Blues.  One word can convey so much: from a palette of colors, to a genre of music, to a chakra color, to a state of mind. 

Ultramarine, cobalt, cerulean, phthalo, indigo, Prussian, periwinkle, etc...I haven’t met a blue paint I didn’t love! 

The same goes for an even longer list of blues musicians from Robert Johnson, Buddy Guy, Bonnie Raitt, BB King, Jeff Beck, Paul Butterfield, Willie Dixon, Billie Holiday, Leadbelly, Muddy Waters, Big Mama Thornton, etc. -- whether it’s Delta, Chicago, Folk or Country Blues, I love ‘em all. 

And, while I can’t say I love when my heart is heavy with those “state of mind blues” that sneak by for a visit from time to time, I certainly embrace the compassion birthed in the process and left behind in its wake. 

Today, I’m in throat-chakra-blue expression...and what first came to mind when I thought of ‘Blue’, were my guitar and a fave Joni Mitchell album (the cd of which I played and sang along with while painting). 

“Blues I Choose”, © 2012 Cathy Gazda, 5” x 7”, Acrylic on canvas panel.  ♥ 

Mourning Time

Recently, a Cooper’s Hawk swooped by, only inches from our faces, and grabbed a Mourning Dove a few feet away.

Paul and I, and the Dove’s partner, stared into the eyes of the Hawk, as it victoriously adjusted claws around its prey before flying away. 

We sat, in stunned silence, for several minutes...the Dove left behind, clearly distressed.  After several days’ absence, it returned this morning. 

Perched on an upper mesquite tree branch, it called out the lament-like song for which they’re known:  “coo-OO-oo-oo-oo”. Nine times, distinctly slower than normal...clear tonal qualities that bring to mind pentatonic scales found in Japanese music, Native American flutes or Scottish bagpipes. 

Grief, like music, transcends all language. 

“Mourning Time”, © 2012 Cathy Gazda, 5” x 7”, Acrylic on canvas panel.  ♥