I’ve passed this cemetery for years. In the fall, it finally became a pandemic-sketchbook-destination.
On foot, I pay much more attention to details of the city in which we live.
These are the paintings featured, one for each month, in my Washington National Cathedral calendar for 2020. (Click twice to enlarge.)
Here is my new calendar for 2020, each month featuring one of a series of paintings at Washington National Cathedral and its gardens. The calendar is 8-1/2″ x 11″ and printed on sturdy satin stock, substantial enough that the images can be saved as prints. (Soon I will post the paintings for each month, so that you can see them all, unless you prefer to be surprised.)
A single calendar is $23; a set of two is $42; plus shipping. Shipping is Priority Mail, domestic US. If you are in my area, you can obtain a calendar from me directly without shipping cost—just let me know.
I’m sorry that international shipping costs make the calendars too expensive to ship overseas.
Set of 2 calendars:
Gaulish, Greek, and Roman civilizations intersected in this region, as we were reminded on a rainy Sunday spent among their sculpture, tools, and pottery, rescued by 20th-century divers from two-thousand-year-old Mediterranean shipwrecks, and now installed in the stunning Musée de l’Éphèbe in Cap d’Agde.
Every year Washington National Cathedral exhibits a number of examples from its large collection of Nativity scenes from around the world. The exhibition runs through January 7th, 2011.
This is one of my favorites, a scene made from mud and animal dung by children in Kenya.
First paper cutouts, now dough…you must think I’ve forgotten how to draw.
Today is All Saints Day, also known as Día de los Muertos in Latin American countries. For the last several years our homeschooling Spanish class has celebrated this day together. We set up a table and decorate it with autumn flowers and leaves, papel picado, and photographs and mementos of those who have crossed over (parents, grandparents, pets, anyone beloved). My daughter and I bake a huge anise-flavored Pan de Muerto—a skull surrounded by bones. The mother who teaches Spanish reads aloud a story about the day, written from a child’s point of view. We all sing “Hasta los Muertos Salen a Bailar” (“Even the Dead are Rising Up to Dance”) which is a really hard song to stop singing all day long once you’ve sung a few rounds. Then each family comes to the table, lights a candle, and says a few words about their loved ones, and the festival concludes with a skull-and-bones snack. Although the children devour the bread with enthusiasm, I think they actually appreciate the entire event, especially as each year brings more shared losses into our lives.