lucy.

Having a baby is hard. Having a baby while you battle mild hyperemesis gravidarum is harder. Having a baby while you battle mild HG with your closest family members 600 kilometres and an international border crossing away -- well. Let's all get our violins out, shall we?

All kidding aside -- though pregnancy was tough, we were and are blessed with a beautiful family of brothers and sisters in Christ who took excellent care of us while I was struggling through those difficult months. Not only did they provide meals, love, prayers and support when I could barely drag myself out of bed, but they showered our wee girl with beautiful gifts after she arrived. I managed to get a birth announcement/thank you card out in a respectable amount of time (for a new mom, anyway) -- 4 months. Could be worse! Lucy A, you are one loved baby.

brielle!

It turns out that the last 12 months have not been ideal for any artistic endeavours (or blogging, or gardening, or reading, or... anything, really. More on that later -- maybe). However, we shall look for and celebrate any pinpricks of light that we can find -- and I did manage to draw another name card last summer for another niece born last year. So... just a leeeetle behind.

cedar of lebanon.

Psalm 92:12-15

The righteous will flourish like a palm tree,

they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon;

planted in the house of the LORD,

they will flourish in the courts of our God. 

They will still bear fruit in old age, 

they will stay fresh and green,

proclaiming, "The LORD is upright;

He is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in Him."

everett & lydia & nicholas

What you see below is the fruit of my limited artistic endeavours over the past winter. I didn't have a great deal of free time due to the craziness of transitions and other commitments, but when I could, I worked on these little numbers for my nephews and niece. Last year I experimented with similar name cards for a pair of newly-ish born babies in my clan and enjoyed the brain-stretching experiment so much that I decided to produce some more for the rest of the dear kidlets in the family. Fun!

pastor's wife.

As we're in the middle of the very last semester of seminary (say whaaaaat), Wayne is busier than ever doing pulpit supply for local churches. This means we go to a different church every other week (mostly) and meet lots of new people! This is generally how I feel that I look whilst standing in the lobby waiting for the service to start -- or while awkwardly drinking church coffee out of ridiculously tiny CRC coffee mugs (two gulps and that thing is EMPTY!). Fortunately I don't actually have a glowing sign on my forehead, and I must not really look this semi-panicked because typically people do come say hello. Usually. 

Let's also just take a moment to acknowledge the giant elephant in the room -- This looks nothing like me. I cannot draw self-portraits, and besides my utter lack of patience, I have a feeling it has something to do with the fact that I don't actually look at myself whilst drawing it? Perhaps? Maybe?

Happy Sunday!

panera beaver.

A few months back W & I were sitting in a Panera and I said, "Wayne, what would you do if a giant beaver walked into the Panera, ordered a coffee, and sat down at a table?" 

He responded with raised eyebrows and a confused laugh and a shrug and a look that said, "Suzanne, you are so special to me in so many inexplicable ways." 

I responded by drawing a picture of the beaver on a card so he could more easily understand what's going on in my brain. Communication is such an important part of a good marriage, folks. 

That, and acceptance and tolerance of your spouse's odd imagination.

crunchy twizzlers

Because twizzlers taste better when they have a bit of a sandy crunch to them. Nothing says summer like liquorice twizzlers on the beach and crazy post-swim hair! Although let's be perfectly honest, beach hair never actually looks this great... we just like to think it does.

Speaking of beaches... we've been living in the big ole land of Alberta this summer. Swimming options for this province include creepy mushy sloughs and frigid mountain pools of icy-freshness. Neither option is particularly enticing. The great lakes have made us ridiculously soft. Miss you, HOMES.

baby names.

Have had a few new entries added to the family tree in the last couple months and I actually managed to recognize these occasions with some happy little cards that to some small degree represent the meaning of the dear wee babes' names.  

Never took the time to photoshop them so they're a bit messy -- I was colouring them whilst small nephews & a niece were crawling all over the place (including on me) and asking why Auntie Suzi didn't draw them their own name card when they were born. Dear children, adults will fail you. But you needn't know that quite yet...

i know not how it is with you.

In a very atypical fashion I drew this very much person-less drawing while in Edinburgh. I rarely draw any pictures without people in it -- people are the most interesting part to pictures and I therefore make sure to include them because secretly I think drawing water and leaves and grass and trees is sometimes a little boring.

Saw this lovely RL Stevenson poem painted on a wall in New Town Edinburgh and just got this feeling in my gut that it ought to be drawn, so I sat down that night and drew something. A bit mixy-uppy but interesting nonetheless. Mixy-uppy is not a word. Or term. Or anything.

It's just a bit like a mishmash of everything that I saw in my mind while reading the poem, which is the sweetest little poem, and I am not necessarily a poem person so it is quite a thing that it instilled in me a desire to illustrate it. The poem reads:

I know not how it is with you --

I love the first and last,

The whole field of the present view,

The whole flow of the past.

One tittle of the things that are, 

Nor you should change nor I --

One pebble in our path -- one star

In all our heaven of sky.

Our lives, and every day and hour,

One sympathy appear:

One road, one garden -- every flower

And every bramble dear.

- R.L. Stevenson

first set of wings.

I have a cousin who spent her youth flying over horse jumps. Is that what they're called? Jumps. Yes, I think so. For anyone who thinks horse jumping is something you can just do without really knowing how to do it... wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. While visiting one summer I was having a leisurely walk-about on a calm old horse in said cousin's pasture when Calm Old Horse caught sight of a jump and had a sudden inspiration to be Brisk Sprightly Horse. Moving up from a walking speed to a trotting speed is a big change. Trotting is terrifying. I have no horseback riding rhythm and then that dang horse jumped over the jump and I thought my teeth had fallen out and been left behind in the grass.

You must realize that the jump was only about 2 feet off the ground -- this is monumentally high to someone who does not regularly ride horses.

So anyway, this cousin o' mine who rides horses into a flying gallop decided that the highest horse jumps weren't high enough and took to the skies as a pilot. This was a very late congratulatory yay-you-got-your-pilot's-license drawing that I managed to finally do this past summer while in Scotland. Cute!

clementine.

Just over a year ago some friends of ours gave their newborn the sweetest, sunniest name a baby girl could have -- Clementine Summer. In my usual style, I sent them a congrats card about 7 months late. Can't teach a procrastinator new tricks, that's what I always say. 

Clementine means merciful. I think that's lovely. 

asteraceae

Scots love their thistles! Well -- perhaps they don't, I never actually asked, but tourists certainly do. Thistles practically cover the Royal Mile in the form of keychains and t-shirts and magnets and shot glasses, and they really do cover the Scotland landscape in plant form as well -- they're everywhere, and come in a vast amount of flavours (don't actually eat them please). 

Legend has it that while a Norse Army was creeping up on a Scottish encampment long ago, a Norseman stepped out on a nasty thistle, causing him to burst into loud anguished tears of pain, thus alerting the Scottish camp of an impending attack. Okay, maybe not the anguished tears, but you get the picture. Don't know if this is true but it's cute. Cute and painful.

Couldn't live in Scotland for a few months without drawing their national flower! 

{Drawn in June 2013}

better late than never.

I'm usually about one month behind when it comes to celebratory holidays. This isn't completely true when it comes to Christmas -- I usually find myself tangled up in a frenzied Christmas haze until the world comes screeching to a halt on Christmas Eve, everything finished just in time.

Ugh. I so wish that wasn't the case.

The other holidays aren't so lucky -- and by other holidays, I mean Mother's Day. I was fiercely determined to make a Mom's Day card for both my mom and my mom-in-law this year... I started in April. That's right, one month before the big day.

I finished them at the end of June.

But... better late than never! I don't know who coined that phrase, but whoever it is -- your phrase has helped generations of unorganized peoples apologize for their procrastination. Thank you, kind stranger.

Without further ado, the cards.

a wee bit o' thanks

Have you ever tried drawing tartan? HAVE YOU?

Pure torture, my friends. Pure Scottish torture. Drawing it is hard enough -- I can't even imagine trying to figure out how to actually weave a blasted kilt. All personal illustration impairments aside, on display today are my new Scottish friends. I think they're cute. 

Tapadh leibh means 'thank you' in Scottish Gaelic. Don't ask me how to pronounce it, I haven't a clue. What I do know is that my thank-you cards are getting all international up in hur! Holla!

Perhaps I shall draw a kimono next. 

a spring-themed thank you.

I was commissioned to draw this little fella for the lovely donors who contributed to a high school fundraiser -- a.k.a. the Spring Rummage Sale! You can see the fall version here. 

Certain events have transpired which have made it impossible to open Photoshop on my laptop. This means that the image you're seeing is completely unedited, untouched by filters and cursors of every kind. I tried using some sketchy online copycat version but by the time I was halfway done the internet ate all my work and I had a wee little temper tantrum then gave up and decided that the fates would have their way and I'd have to expose myself as an artist who often colours outside of the lines. 

I remember reading somewhere that Beatrix Potter often had to redraw her illustrations because she'd mess up so often. I can't tell you how much relief this gives me, though it does make me feel a little bit like a cheater. Photoshop makes life so much easier -- I'm sorry you missed out, Beatrix. 

show your face, spring!

Oh boy, it's been a winter, that's for sure. But I'm ready for what's going on in that little picture up there. And now that it's officially spring, the snow can stop falling now. Please snow. Please. My little frozen crocus blooms in the garden are crying out for you to stop. I can hear them. 

Anyway. Enjoy today, despite the fact that it's a blizzard out there!

letter writing.

I drew this for a friend who consistently writes me wonderful letters and emails. It only made sense for me to draw a picture of her writing me a letter in some enchanted windowsill somewhere.

Thank you, friend. 

in like a lion.

In like a lion and out like a lamb! Unexpected surprise though -- the old adage has been 50% incorrect so far. I woke up on the 1st of March and stared at the ceiling and thought of lions and lambs and decided to do a quick sketch like this, but it's not entirely accurate for 2013 because yesterday we experienced a full day of blue cloudless skies and snappy sunshine. I think we had about two of those days in February, so this really was rather tremendous. Hopefully the weather doesn't get all ornery and throw us a snowstorm at the end of the month. Then I'd roar like that hairy guy up there.

A confession: I really dislike drawing animals, but I do it because I'm not comfortable with it and I won't like it until I'm comfortable with it which won't happen if I don't practise. They just have so many LEGS. Sigh.

just around the corner...

There may be a winter weather advisory warning out right now, but this came in the mail last week:

I'm aware there's still a month until Winter ends, but nothing says Spring more than flipping through the Lee Valley catalogue and salivating over garden tools. Can't quite pull out the ole spade yet though, so to compensate I drew some little peonies instead.

And some poetry for good measure:

Again rejoicing Nature sees

Her robe assume its vernal hues

Her leafy locks wave in the breeze

All freshly steep'd in morning dews...

- Robert Burns, Composed In Spring (1786)

red velvet is weird.

I lost myself this Valentine's Day. I surrendered to a trend and now must pay the consequences. 

There's a great big red velvet cake sitting in my fridge and I don't want to eat it. Every time I open the door its thick crimson layers glow at me with red-dye radiation. It's weird. There's nothing wrong with it. It tastes fine (albeit a little boring). The icing is tasty (if not a tad drippy). The cake is just really, really, really red. 

{source}

I had always wanted to try my hand at a red velvet recipe. Not sure why. Red velvet just seems to be everywhere, dominating everything from bakery shelves to Pinterest boards, and I wanted to rise and meet the challenge! Look out, cake!

I'm all about reaching my goals. Big goals. 

Valentine's Day came around. Perfect, I think. I don't buy Wayne gifts. I make Wayne cakes. I'll make a red cake. This will be AMAZING. 

First of all, don't try to make a red velvet cake when you're in a klutzy state of mind (which for me is about 80% of the time. I am by no means a graceful swan, though my wingspan is rather impressive). Red velvet cake batter is, well, really red. And when it gets on something... that something will be red. You'll be happy to know that after some intense elbow grease my countertop is now only a pleasant pink colour!

I was excited to make this cake. It was going to look pretty and taste like Valentine's Day. Then the recipe told me to put a lot of red food colouring in. I did a double take. The recipe told me to put a lot of red food colouring in. I debated with myself, but ended up doing what the recipe commanded of me. My track record with changing ingredients around in recipes isn't so good. Recipes exist for a reason.

As soon as I put that horrendous amount of red dye in the batter, I thought, red velvet is weird. I don't think I'm going to like it very much. I stirred the dye into the rest of the batter. I looked in the bowl and saw my crimson reflection shimmering back at me in the blood-red batter. Something in my stomach fluttered. 

I thought, red velvet is gross. 

I baked the cake. I ate some of the cake. It tastes fine. It's moist and light and pretty. But it's red. Turns out I don't like it when things aren't the colour they're supposed to be. Cake is supposed to be white or yellow or brown. Ketchup is supposed to be red. Cake isn't.

I'm aware that it's a purely mental thing. Mind over matter. Suzanne's brain over red cake. Chances are, however, that red velvet will not be making an appearance in this kitchen again. But -- speaking of ketchup -- here's the 2013 version of Wayne's Valentine's Day card:

He loves ketchup on his mac n' cheese. Me... not so much (I'm not always this picky, I promise!). I also tried to compensate for the undesirable cake by making romantic shortbread cookies. Much tastier. They go nice with a cup o' chocolat chaud. And that's it for Valentine's Day, folks. Just another day of kitchen mishaps and cheesy greeting cards (HAH! Cheesy. Punmaster, right here).