B'lu

The weather today in Toronto reminded me of ‘Song of the Storm’ oil that was made years before I witnessed how close that would be.

***Birds of a feather flock together***

Black birds in the snow_ winter in Toronto_B’lu_Acrylic_2020

The dark-eyed juncos, commonly found all over Ontario, are a regular in our yard. With the winter winds having blown away all the leaves from the shrubs here, you can see what each and every junco is up to these days. It is not a deliberate black and white work. This is the colour you see.

Inspired by the first snow day at the park yesterday…

Shiloh & I_oil on canvas_10/10/2025_B’lu

❤️❤️

Tulipa Exotic Emperor_water, pen & pencil_1/52025_B’lu

It’s really difficult to paint your garden when there are no blooms.
It’s really difficult to paint your garden.
It’s really difficult to paint.
It’s really difficult.
It’s.

But there are some blooms.
Although they are white.
White is made of all the colours of the rainbow.

River Moves, Earth Waits_water colours_B’lu_9/4/2025

Early April thaw
in the great north, Great Lakes stir—
earth waits, half-asleep

Where She Belongs_Water colours_B’lu_2025

The husky moves through the snow, a black-and-white ghost against the quiet of the backyard, swift and sure, as if the cold, the wind, the endless white were not just familiar but necessary. Snow clings to her fur, frost gathers on her whiskers, but she does not notice. This is where she belongs.

She moves without hesitation, yet she is always aware of you. Even in her stillness, as she stands listening to the winter hush, she feels your presence. If you step closer, she does not startle. If you turn away, she watches, waiting. She does not demand, does not question—only knows.

She does not complicate things. Love, for her, is not something to be measured or explained. It is as simple as breath, as natural as the way she stays near, never straying too far, always returning. And perhaps, without realizing it, you learn from her. You breathe deeper. Move softer. Let go of the weight you did not know you carried. Because when you have been loved by something so certain, so unafraid, you start to wonder if life was always meant to be this simple.

She will miss the snow.

Will she?

Patience & Trust_Water colours_B’lu_2025

One swan watched, its neck curved like an unanswered question, while the other lay still, patient as the ice beneath them. Seymour Lake did not break all at once; it yielded in slow, imperceptible shifts, like a promise that demanded trust. Spring came, but hesitantly, as if testing the faith of those who waited.

Winter’s Ember_Water colours_B’lu_2025

Crimson sky burns bright,
snow drapes quiet streets in white,
cold night softly glows.

Toronto Bluffs_Water colours_B’lu_2025

The Bluffs stand tall, where the waters gleam,
Sandy cliffs in a hush of dream.
Sea-green waves in whispers play,
Brushing the rocks in misty spray.

Snow rests soft on rugged stone,
A fleeting touch, then chills to bone.
Bare trees reach to skies so wide,
Tracing clouds that drift and glide.

Beauty lingers, calm and free,
Where land meets lake in harmony.