Beautiful Valentine’s Day 2025…

14 Friday Feb 2025

Posted by in Art, Birds, Gouache, Love, Painting, Poetry, Relationships, Valentine's Day

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© Joan Currie – My Valentine’s Day owl card series, “Whoooo loves you? I do!” Gouache.


A Love Worth Waiting For... by Joan Currie

I once believed in fairy tales, in love so vast, so bright,
A love that soared on golden wings and lit the darkest night.
I dreamed of hands that knew my own, of hearts that beat the same,
Of whispered vows in starlit hush, of love that burned like flame.

Yet time wove shadows in my path, and love became a ghost,
A wistful wish, a fleeting dream, a ship without a coast.
I wandered through the quiet years, through echoes soft and thin,
Not knowing love was biding time, still waiting to begin.

And then—you came, like summer rain, like dawn upon the sea,
A love so deep, so fierce, so true, it woke the soul in me.
No fleeting spark, no passing storm, no whisper in the air,
But something strong as ancient oaks, as certain as a prayer.

The love of ballads, sonnets bright, the love that poets weave,
The love of kings and wayard knights, of hearts that won’t deceive.
A love where laughter, wild and free, is laced with tender sighs,
Where every glance is poetry, where longing never dies.

So here we stand, with hands entwined, where fate and dreams align,
A love reborn, a tale retold—forever yours and mine.
No more a wish, no more a ghost, no more a fleeting glance,
But love, at last, as it should be—our fated, timeless dance.

I have found love again! I am so grateful for each and every glorious moment we spend together!

© Joan Currie -Another owl for my Valentine’s Day cards series of owls for my family.

Happy Valentines’s Day to all of you! ❤️

Beautiful Skating on the Last Day of the Year…

31 Tuesday Dec 2024

Posted by in Art, Art studio, beautiful, Family, Gouache, New Year 2025, Poetry, Reflections, Winter

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© Joan Currie – My skating with my mother and father painting. Inspired by Gayle Kabaker.


The Last Day of the Year by Joan Currie

On the pond where frost wove its glimmering thread,
Round and round on the ice, so much laughter was spread.
My father on one side, my mother’s warm hand,
Together we skated through winter’s command.

The cold held no power, our joy burned so bright,
Each smile a lantern in the soft fading light.
My father, a hockey fan quick on his feet,
My mother, a skater whose grace was complete.

Their spirit of wonder still dances in me,
Like ripples of moonlight on a shimmering sea.
Though time has now carried their voices away,
Their love is a gift I unwrap every day.

As the year softly closes, I cherish the thought,
Of the laughter and lessons their living had taught.
I hope that my children will carry their flame,
And feel in their hearts that same joyous refrain!

A toast to the the beauty of years that have passed,
To moments of love that forever will last.
On this last day of the year, as memories shine,
I feel their hands guiding, still holding to mine.

My best wishes to you for 2025! Happy New Year!  ❤️ 

Beautiful Soft Landing…

24 Tuesday Dec 2024

Posted by in beautiful, Birds, Christmas, Daily Life, Painting, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor

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© Joan Currie – My turtle dove watercolor painting inspired by The Twelve Days of Christmas.


A Prayer for a Soft Landing

This year I soared through skies untamed,
Where heights were thrilling, dreams unchained.
The sunlit peaks, so bold, so near,
But shadows lingered – storms appeared.

The winds of change, they howled and roared,
And turbulence I so abhorred
Shook the wings I thought were strong,
Yet somehow, still, I flew along.

The high points glimmer, bright, profound,
Moments where my heart unbound.
I treasure these, their golden hue,
And honor trials I stumbled through.

For every bruise, a lesson learned,
Through fiery paths, resilience earned.
Not unscathed, but still I stand,
A voyager, with faith in hand.

Now as this year’s horizon fades,
I pray for softer serenades.
A gentle landing, calm and clear,
To close this wild, unsteady year.

And may the winds of what’s to come,
Bring brighter skies, a kinder sun.
For though I trembled, I endured –
A stronger soul, a heart assured.

Wishing you all the very best for the holidays and a wonderful 2025! ❤️

Beautiful Wild Turkey…

22 Friday Nov 2024

Posted by in beautiful, Birds, Nature, Painting, Poetry, watercolor

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© Joan Currie – My watercolor painting of a wild turkey.


The Wild Turkey’s Vigil by Joan Currie

In the dappled light of the forest’s edge,
He struts, wary, along the bramble’s ledge.
His ruby throat, a beacon of flame,
Bobs and flickers, untamed, untamed.

Eyes wide with a primal, ancient fear,
Each rustle of leaves, each sound draws near.
A breeze, a shadow – he freezes, tense,
A sentinel poised by a fragile fence.

Down the road, domestic birds parade,
Fat and oblivious, in sun-spotted shade.
Their fates are sealed, their end well-known,
But his is a dance in the wild alone.

Will he endure the frost-kissed nights,
And coyotes’ teeth that gleam in moonlight?
Or will his feathers scatter, a fleeting trace,
Of a noble life in a ruthless place?

No table awaits his wary kind,
No cranberry sauce, no sage entwined.
Yet the woods hold stories cruel and raw,
Where survival bends to nature’s law.

I spied this wild turkey standing alone on my walk today. I have always seen him with his mate and worry that the coyotes may have taken her from him. I hope he can find a good hiding spot in the woods tonight!

Happy Thanksgiving Season! ❤️

Beautiful Witching Hour…

06 Wednesday Nov 2024

Posted by in Acrylics, Art, beautiful, Poetry, Reflections

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© Joan Currie – my acrylic on canvas painting

My Witching Hour by Joan Currie

At three, my eyes open to the soft night’s call,
A distant train’s echo, faint engines drone,
Murmur of creatures, house timbers groan,
And I’m caught in a web spun silent and small.

Yet once woken, the night takes me far-
To warm tropic waters, to sunlit sands,
To brushstroke dreams with my eager hands,
Where crimson red and blue glow like a star.

I drift in dances on shores unknown,
Beneath heavens that pierce the shadowed dome,
And revel with loved ones near the old home,
By the lake where moonlight and memories are sewn.

Then the hour fades; I’m lulled once more,
Into soft slumber’s waiting door,
Wrapped in the hush of dreams restored.

At three o’clock in the morning, I resist the temptation to turn on the light to read or sew. Rather, I lie very still and the hour overcomes me in the sweetest, best possible way.

The feeling from the song in Only Murders in the Building, performed by Meryl Streep, is aligned with how I feel during that magical hour.

Beautiful Bernese Mountain Dog…

30 Wednesday Oct 2024

Posted by in Animals, Art, beautiful, Dogs, Love, Poetry, watercolor

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© Joan Currie – My watercolor of my daughter’s Bernese Mountain dog.


The Boisterous Bernese by Joan Currie

There once was a dog, ninety pounds full of might,
A Bernese with a bark and a spirit so bright.
He bounded through rooms with a boundless delight,
And no rule could hold him – oh, try as you might!

With paws on your shoulders, he’d greet every guest,
A leaper, a jumper, your patience to test.
He’d wiggle and waggle, without a disguise,
Then melt all your anger with soft, pleading eyes.

At dinner, he’d stare, nose so close to your plate,
Drooling with longing – he just couldn’t wait!
And at night, as you snuggled, in comfort to steep,
He’d plop on your bed, putting an end to your sleep.

In the bathroom, he’d trail you with passion and flair,
To keep close beside you – even into the shower!
Disobedient rascal, yet so hard to scold,
With a heart full of love, and a spirit so bold.

For though he’s a handful, your mischievous friend,
Those eyes win you over, time and again.

I think our new friend is in need of another round of obedience training!
To be continued…

Beautiful Pumpkin…

25 Friday Oct 2024

Posted by in Art, beautiful, Hallowe'en, Painting, Poetry, Pumpkin, Reflections

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© Joan Currie – My pumpkin painting in acrylic on molding paste with bronze and gold paint v.3

Hallowe’en Harvest by Joan Currie

On Hallowe’en, the earth bears gifts of gold,
Pumpkins swell, the squash begins to fold.

The harvest yields its bounty rich and bright,
And I give thanks beneath the autumn light.

But as I walk, the shadows start to creep,
And whisper secrets that the dark can keep.

For Samhain stirs, the Celtic year’s rebirth,
Where ghosts and goblins rise from out the earth.

My mind, so tethered to the harvest’s might,
Now feels the phantoms in the night.

The rational speaks of grain and seed,
But still, the restless spirits sow their greed.

A headless rider gallops through the gloom,
While witches weave their spells beneath the moon.

I walk between these worlds, both rich and strange –
The earth’s abundance, and the night’s wild change.

The harvest calls, yet something darker grows,
As from the underworld, the cold wind blows.

At this time of year, I feel an eerie presence swirling around me in the darkness on my walk home. As I did in my youth, I can’t help but pick up the pace and finally break into a run!

Happy Hallowe’en! 🧡

Beautiful Quilt With Dad’s Shirt Fabric…

16 Wednesday Oct 2024

Posted by in beautiful, Design, Father, Photography, Poetry, Sewing, Upcycling

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© Joan Currie – Our quilt in progress…

Grandad’s Quilt for You by Joan Currie

With needles keen, we stitch a quilt,
From Grandad’s shirts, worn soft with years,
The very ones you helped me choose,
Each shade of blue he held so dear.

The solid hues, the stripes, the checks,
Each fabric as familiar as he,
For birthday, Christmas, wrapped with care,
You’d place the gift upon his knee.

And oh, how he would smile so bright,
Holding aloft his cherished blue,
For all to see the color’s light,
That whispered of his love for you.

We measured then, with careful hand,
And cut the cloth in even squares,
Each stitch was placed with loving thread,
To weave together tender cares.

The backing soft, the lining pure,
Hand-quilted, tufted with delight.
This quilt now seems to you so sure,
A cloak that wraps you in the night.

You say it feels like his embrace,
His arms around you as you sleep,
And in the warmth, you find his grace,
In every seam his love runs deep.

My youngest daughter and I made the quilt shown above from my late Dad’s shirts. It was a wonderful project to do together and I am so glad that she suggested it! I know my Dad continues to be with her (and all of us) in spirit!

Beautiful Acorn (but not so beautiful squirrel)…

11 Friday Oct 2024

Posted by in Animals, Garden, Mammals, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Wild animals

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© Joan Currie – The squirrel has stashed his acorns all over my yard.

The Rogue of My Yard by Joan Currie

In my garden once peaceful, in days of late,
A scoundrel returns – wrecking havoc, his trait.
Not the soft squirrel of a Potter tale,
But a beastly fiend with a bushy tail.

He clambers and clatters with ill-intent,
O’er apples rotting, their skins now rent.
Like billiard balls scattered across the green,
A trickster’s delight, a demon unseen.

With acorns stuffed in each nook and crack,
He piles his plunder no thought to slack.
The feeder he topples with impish glee,
Chasing away all the birds that flee.

A tyrant of trees, this devil’s dance,
He spares no corner, no happenstance.
The gutters rattle as apples roll,
From rooftop heights, his heartless goal.

O cursed creature, why dost thou stay?
To plague my yard both night and day?
Return to your woods, you menace black,
Please, or I fear, I might set a trap!

I’m afraid it is time to catch and release this squirrel to a woods far far away.

Beautiful Interior of My Sweet Home…

12 Thursday Sep 2024

Posted by in Art, beautiful, Daily Life, Flowers, Home, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor

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© Joan Currie – My watercolor of a vase with lemons after Vanessa Bell


My Sweet Home by Joan Currie

Within these walls, my heart does rest,
A haven wrought with love’s own crest.
The strokes of brush on canvas bare,
Birds in flight and animals fair.
Vermont’s wild lands in oil unfold,
Sunset’s fire, winter’s cold.

Here roses bloom in vases old,
Ceramic treasure finely scrolled.
Their petals whisper of the past,
Of father’s gifts – how time does last.
And glass that gleams, my mother’s hand,
In paperweights from foreign lands.

On shelves, the books of poets dwell,
Their words, like spells, my soul compels.
Photographs with faces dear,
In every frame, I hold them near.
This is my world, a soft embrace,
Where every corner finds its place.

Some speak of spaces clean and bare,
Of lives unbound by things they wear.
Yet here, amidst this cherished cache,
I find my peace and hold it fast.
For in each token, vase, or frame,
Life’s rich fabric, for now remains.

So let the world of minimal claim,
Their rooms untouched by love’s sweet flame.
For in my charming abode, I see,
The beauty that belongs to me.

I have just started giving my special treasures to my daughters for their own homes. I love seeing how my belongings look surrounded by completely different color and decorating schemes, and, my daughters’ own art and objects of affection.