The Sun is Rising Yet

Today, I don’t know how to assuage grief; stem loss; draw hope. What color do you use when a new day dawns gray and stark and you no longer know your country?

So I walk streets littered with leaves, and wander through the graveyard looking for answers among stones. Here– a veteran, there– a mother, a child. Lives engraved in names and dates. On one of my favorites, these words: Change upon change, the sun is rising yet.

And then I come home to begin again, and start with the simple act of filling the bird feeders.


55 Comments on “The Sun is Rising Yet

  1. Jean – Thank you. The drawing and words both spoke volumes at a time when there are not words.

  2. Thank you for your beautiful words and drawing on such a bleak day. You give me hope that there are others out there with the same feelings.

  3. Just walked five miles in the rain. It didn’t help. But coming in and reading your words and seeing your sketch helped. Thank you. It will be an afternoon of art therapy for me.

  4. When we stop sharing, we stop caring. So glad to read your words and see your lovely drawing. Our country is bewitched, bothered and bewildered. But good shall prevail….and i truly believe most people are good, as Anne Frank said. Sometimes a few more leaves have to fall, while we work harder in the caring department. Then the rainbows will come.

  5. Jean,
    I forwarded today’s entry to my daughter because it was such a comfort.

    Thank you

  6. thank you jean for your beautiful drawing and words.
    they are a deep comfort today.

    • We need as much solidarity and comfort as we can get today…and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Thanks for your appreciation.

  7. What a perfect posting, Jean. Here, on the north side of our shared border, we share your grief and sadness. As I watched Obama’s speech this morning, I turned to look out the window to watch two tiny hummingbirds buzz around the feeder — what joy they bring on such a sad, grey day.

  8. Couldn’t agree with you more, and thank you for showing me that if I can find my way back to my art supplies, I may find comfort in those at this time.

    Thank you for your always inspirational work and words.

  9. Thank you for sharing this Jean. I am forwarding to my family for comfort. Love to you and Dan. xo

  10. You put into words just a bit of the grief, anxiety and pessimism I felt this morning. I spent the day with my 91 year old mom reminding myself that people do survive the toughest times.

    • I’m glad you had that connection today with your mom– I bet it was valuable for both of you. Thanks for sharing your appreciation. It’s been a tough day for many.

    • What’s been especially good and unexpected is the way the post has connected strangers. We are not alone in our grief. Thanks for reaching out.

  11. Jean, such a poignant drawing and quote. There seems to be a collective gloom here in Portland today. I couldn’t bring pen or pencil to paper today but I’m so glad you did. Thank you.

    • Yes. Collective gloom is shared here in the blue east coast. Our work now is to figure out how to mix purple. Thanks for commenting!

  12. It is, indeed, nice to hear from like-minds…. Too bad there weren’t just a few more of us out there tuesday!
    Thank you for the strength and courage and for your kind words.

  13. Thank you for your lovely drawing and words, I didn’t know if I was the only one feeling so devistated today, there is comfort knowing that I am not alone in this.

  14. Dear Jean,

    The unexpected blow completely knocked the wind out of us. But now we must take comfort in knowing that we are not alone, that we won the popular vote, and that ego may yet be the downfall of the winner. Crowds have a way of turning on you just when you thought you had them in your pocket. Julius Caesar found that out the hard way.

    Continue to find joy in nature. She has been around far longer than the human species. She has witnessed and survived our hubris. Delight in her colors, antics, steadfastness, fury, serenity, denizens, and surprise. She never fails us. Go outside, take a deep, deep breath, listen to her sweet sounds that surround you, and take brush in hand to share its fruits with all of us – you will continue to inspire and bring joy to yourself and us.

    A big hug,


    Juanita Roushdy President Friends of Hog Island P.O. Box 242 Bremen, ME 04551 207-529-2355 910-233-8548 (cell)

    Friends of Hog Island – Promises made; promises kept.


    • Hi Juanita- Thank you…and yes, we put one foot in front of the other and carry on. That’s why I filled the bird feeders– a small, but important bit of hope and reminder that the grand sweep of nature is greater than us all.

  15. Good morning, Jean. I’m sitting at my computer and looking out at the sun coming up over the water and the boat harbor, and the sky is so beautiful and the water is so sparkly that it rests my heart. I can see the headlights of tiny cars on the hillside, with people starting their day. I am determined to find a way to love the half of my fellow citizens who are in need and thought they were helping themselves by this ill-considered choice for president, and to be vigilant that I find ways to do the right thing and help us move in a positive direction. Your beautiful, clean, honest leaves give me courage. Thanks, Jean.

    • Carolyn- Yes. Thanks for sharing your view– both outside and in. Let’s stay determined, find ways to reach out, keep walking forward.

  16. Thank you for your words and image of sorrow and beauty.
    This morning… oh the grief and fear waking up Nov 9 2016, from last night’s nightmare from which there was no awaking… and so I dug deep into the soil of a flower garden bed… got my hands into the dirt… rooted out old rotten iris tubers (not an easy task) … very old, decaying clumps of entwined gnarly rot, stunting growth. Worms gloriously in the rich soil. A wheel barrow full of the old rotted tubers… making way for the replanting of the fresh growth. Such a symbolic and therapeutic way to spend the sunshine-rich morning. Maybe tomorrow I will be ready to step back into the world. And now… right this moment… a northern screech owl is hooting softly in a near-by tree. Sigh … a peaceful moment. I quote from a fellow, but unknown, sister: “Today I am in my woman cave … tomorrow I will come out more fierce than ever.” Though, I do not know if I am ready yet for “fierce.” It will be a step, just to step beyond my gardens.

    • Beautifully said, Penelope. Thank you for sharing your own “woman cave.” Working in the garden is grounding, and yes, tomorrow, we will step beyond. Some of our steps will seem the same, but others, I’m certain, will be fierce. All the best to you…J

  17. The beauty of our democratic republic is not in who wins or who loses but that we have the freedom to vote our conscious. And, when our government shifts locally or nationally, it has done and will do so peacefully. Many nations in our world are not so blessed.

    • Agreed. But that is not all. The beauty of our democratic republic is also that we strive for respect and decency– something sorely lacking in the words, behavior, and character of our newly elected president. Part of the profound sadness I feel is the fact that so many people were able to overlook that.

  18. Totally makes sense to me. Perfect response: fill the feeder, draw a leaf, post.
    I got here via a follower of yours…love your work.

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