Tangerines

Photograph by Laura Hindle.

A friend in my hometown of Ann Arbor, Michigan, just posted this beautiful photo of the pond in her backyard on Facebook. I am feeling nostalgic for a real winter, for the snows and snowmen of my childhood, cross-country skiing through the woods, and playing ice hockey.

Then she posted that it was -15 degrees Fahrenheit, without the wind chill. This is not something I recall from childhood. I remember outdoor hockey games in high school, when the temperature dipped low enough that it hurt to breathe, and our sweaty hair would freeze instantly when we took our helmets off. I am pretty sure I’ve never experienced -15˚F, but unusual weather is not so abnormal these days.

Now I live in California, some sort of paradise. Yesterday I took a long walk on the beach, wading in the ocean as the tide came up. Today I picked tangerines and painted them, and then ate them.

Tangerines, 6x8" oil on birch, by Rebecca Stebbins.

Lest you think the grass is always greener, though, you should understand this: in a “normal” year, we have something like 17 inches of rain. In the past 16 months or so, we’ve had less than 4. My grass is not green. Almost everything in my garden is scraping by with minimal water. In Los Angeles, not far from here, this is the driest year on record, on the heels of several years of drought. The Colorado River, which supplies water to a number of competing interests – cities, farmers, golf courses, and of course the wild species which depend upon it for survival – is more besieged each year. There is no "normal" anymore, as far as I can tell.

We live in an arid climate out here in the West, but we don’t respect it and we don’t value our most precious resource. My neighbor next door regularly hoses down his bright  concrete driveway and his automatic sprinklers come on even when it does rain, helping to wash all the chemical pesticides he uses on his perfect lawn right down into the ocean. Even Oprah, who lives a few miles from me, is reported to pay $124,000 per year to keep her spacious lawns green. I guess if you can afford it, it’s ok, right? Well, no. Not in my opinion.

Clearly “global warming” is a misnomer; but I honestly don’t understand how anyone can still believe that our climate isn’t changing at a dramatic pace, on a global scale. And the only input that could be generating such a rapid change is the output of our unthinking human endeavors. As much as I love to paint tangerines in my studio, I feel I should be outside painting the landscape as well, because it’s possible that within a generation it won’t look anything like it does now.  

What Goes Around

Egg in French cup, 6x8" oil on board, 2014.

Late on New Year's Eve I flew home to California from a trip to wintry Michigan to visit my parents. This morning, January 1st, I was grateful to discover a new year's gift from my chickens, who have started laying eggs again as the days grow longer.

It seemed appropriate to paint this little egg today, as it represents all the potential of a new beginning. But new beginnings are not without a past, and in this painting I placed a silver spoon inherited from my great-grandmother and a French saucer and egg cup to represent my love of France and my gratitude for being able to spend time there. The Quimper saucer is the same china that my great-aunt brought back from her overseas adventures in the mid-twentieth century to furnish the cottage in northern Michigan, built by my great-grandfather, where I spent many summers and learned to swim, among other things. The egg cup is one that I purchased myself on a trip to France.

As a member of the so-called sandwich generation, I am a baby boomer caught between worrying about elderly parents while nurturing a child (in my case, a teenager), in addition to other 'normal' challenges of midlife - marital, physical, emotional, psychological. I am facing an uncertain future, like so many of my peers.

At the same time, we are the beneficiaries of an unavoidable, constant stream of wisdom via social media, much of which shares a similar message. Slow down. Be grateful. Take care of yourself. Forgive. The list goes on, but it's fairly easy to find justification for taking pleasure in small things, for digging deep, and for challenging ourselves to stretch beyond our comfort zones to achieve real meaning in life, whether by reaching out to friends, traveling, creating, volunteering, or even just taking time to nap or to read a good book.

Mimi, demonstrating how to nap.

My wish for the new year is to grow in ways I can't now imagine, but in ways that will increase my positive contributions during my time on this planet. I send good wishes for a bountiful year full of love and hope for all of you who may be reading this, and I hope our paths will cross in some way in 2014.