On Talking to Claude

This puzzle was started on February 18, 2025, and hung around until Thanksgiving of the same year. I have never given up on a jigsaw puzzle, and with Claude’s help, I didn’t have to on this one.

Getting set up, ready to start. Feb. 18, 2025.

There are 1000 pieces, and only a 5″ by 7″ photo of this 1906 painting to go by. If I connect about 2 a day, I will be doing this for a year and a half. If I put in one piece a day, which is my current rate, it would take about 3 years.

I’m not even a big fan of “Water Lilies” or Claude Monet’s Impressionism. It just happens to be one of the puzzles I borrowed from my granddaughter Clara, and put off doing until now because of its complexity.

Still, it calms me to look at it and work on it, maybe like the water lilies scene calmed Monet. It’s an exercise in patience, and concentration, where you have to be “in the zone”, as you get into the painting/puzzle.

Sun and daylight are good to have. March 8, 2025.

As I study this, it’s almost like each piece is a brushstroke of color. I am helping to “paint” this cardboard replica of a large 35″ high by 37″ wide painting from 1906, which hangs in the Art Institute of Chicago. He was 66 years old when he painted this from his water garden in Giverny, France. He did approximately 250 oil paintings of water lilies in the last 30 years of his life.

As I look deeper, I see the structure the artist worked with. There is a repetition throughout the canvas and a chosen palette of varying hues-purples, blues, greens, with touches of yellow and pink.

I find myself talking to Claude, asking things like, “Now, where would that next color be?” and “What would you put here?”. The reference photo is very small, and not detailed at all, requiring a magnifying glass just to get a clue.

A little more progress. April 13, 2025, 11:13 AM.

Crazy, I know, it’s a jigsaw puzzle! But, I appreciate how this one item (among countless copies and printings on products) brings me up close to the painting.

And OH! What colors are in there! I think a piece is a purple and then I see blue purple and red purple, which makes me search for another section to place it in. Very slow going.

What does Claude care that I am having trouble matching the various hues? Sometimes, I feel that he does care, and is directing me to turn the piece, such as “make it horizontal, instead of vertical”.

And, sometimes, like magic, I walk by, pick up a piece, and place it down in the correct spot, barely looking. It seems to fly out of my fingers at those times.

Thank you, Claude, for the spots of pink that I was only able to see upon close examination. They were a hint to where pieces belonged.

On Sunday, April 27, I wrote this in my notes: Today I notice that I’m matching brush strokes as well as color, such as a swish of pale green or a dab of yellow.

Getting to know this puzzle! May 13, 2025. 3:48 PM. Omaha.

Claude, did you really just guide my hand to place this group of blue-green pieces near the top of the puzzle, and not the bottom where I had them?

Section that Monet told me to put here, near top of puzzle instead of bottom, where I had placed it. May 15, 2025. 10:01 AM.

The piecing is so difficult that I often think it fits. To be sure, I have to hold it up to the light and see if it’s snug, with no sunlight coming through. Because of my imperfect eyesight, even with reader glasses, I rarely know until that moment. This one works!

Holding a connection to the light to see if it’s the right fit (no light shining through). July 29, 2025, 11:00 AM.

In late October, the putting together becomes easier, as I work on it sporadically.

I’m astounded again at the colors! When the sun hits the piece I’m holding and lights up that purple-blue-turquoise, it makes me happy. As I work on this, I begin to see it as sky with stars instead of water with lilies.

To think that more than a century after it was painted, I can partake in the viewing of it through a puzzle on my dining room table with such enjoyment astounds me. Although, I like to imagine I’ll see it in person again someday.

On November 14th, Thanksgiving is 2 weeks away. While Dan is planning the menu and shopping, I am keeping at this, determined to finish, because we will need this table.

With Claude’s help, I did it!

Finished! November 26, at 1:13 PM. 22.5″ H by 17″W, The Fine Art Collection, 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle.
Claude Monet, Water Lilies, 1906.

Just for fun, an additional tidbit. I worked on a Van Gogh puzzle before this, but he didn’t talk to me.

Thanks for reading!

With appreciation for gifts and sharing of puzzles,

Shirley

On a Walk Through a Cemetery

Voices came to me as soon as I stepped out of the car. Looking around, I saw that mine was the only car parked on the pathway. Scary. I also saw that I was the only person standing in the area.

It was a windy afternoon. The talking I heard must have been people’s voices carrying on the wind from the nearby businesses’ parking lots.

This was last Sunday, September 15. I had been looking for something to do and realized I now had time to go do what I always wanted to do-walk through a cemetery and read the tombstones. I thought while the weather was nice, I’d get a little exercise and entertainment combined, plus a history lesson.

Where I chose to go, in Spirit Lake, Iowa.

I went there for those above reasons, but also to try out an aluminum foil technique that I had read about in the Coon Rapids Enterprise newspaper. With a damp sponge or a small flat brush, it is possible to emboss tombstone engravings on to a thin sheet of aluminum foil.

This looked interesting, so I saved the clipping.

As I walked (with sunscreen, hat, and my sunglass readers), I searched for good candidates. The heat became sweltering, so I aimed for the trees and the shade.

The ground was hard and uneven, but still well kept up and mowed. It looked like a lush green lawn in the distance. Not wanting to risk a stumble, I had to watch my step because of indented areas and little hills. It was another opportunity to keep me sharp, paying attention to my surroundings. Vigilance keeps me on my toes!

A few familiar names caught my eye, but no connections that I knew of.
Then I saw a last name of a person who is now very sick.

Was this a premonition of what I was fearing?

Or a prediction of the near future?

I tried not to think about that and moved on.

I focused on what I came here to do. I experimented with a foil casting. The wind made it difficult to hold the foil flat, so I tried a very small section. It worked! However, I hadn’t planned a way to transport the foil sheet and keep it from wrinkling up, which would erase some of the transfer.

Next time, I’ll bring a cardboard portfolio (2 sheets of large cardboard, duct taped together at the top and one side so I can slide the foil into it).

My eyes saw new things here, so it was a success. I’ll go back and try the foil casting again. A brother-in-law’s grandparents are buried here (his mother grew up in Spirit Lake). I can search for that grave.

I’m sure to see a few more that touch my heart.

Here are some from this excursion:

Whose? When? I want more information. Still, its simplicity makes me think.

Fascinating life summary. He Filed the 1st Claim on West Shore of West Okoboji.

I know and love someone who fits this description.

Shirley

On Caring for Mom in Hospice

It’s been more than 10 years since this episode in our lives. I’ve been thinking about another little story from that time that I can not write about now because I don’t have all of the facts. While looking for that story, I found this one.

I feel that time’s poignancy often, as both Mom and Marty have passed away (Mom in March, 2014 and Marty in Oct, 2014).

Here’s what I wrote on 3-29-2014:

I woke up this morning thinking about our last days with Mom, in our family home in Carroll, IA.

Specifically, I was thinking about my brother, Marty, reading out loud to her from a children’s book. He had randomly picked it up from a stack of books in his basement. It was about a mouse family in a garden setting, which made us adult children laugh.

He held her hand, and caressed it sofly while he read. It was so comforting to us to walk by and see him and hear him doing that. It was also nice to go in and sit in a folding chair by him for a few minutes while he read.

My younger brother Marty was going through his own cancer treatments. He knew this was serious. However, he always had a way of lifting us up with humor and lighthearted topics.

Then, I was doing dishes and singing softly to myself “Who’s the one who tied your shoes when you were young and knew just when to come and see what you had done? Mama, oh Mama.”

Singing and BJ Thomas always soothes me.

Shirley

On My Knees

Oil painting on canvas (partial), Kupka, 1909.

It all started on a sparkling, sunlit day in mid November, 2022. I walked among the fallen leaves of my one time neighborhood around St. Margaret Mary’s church, on Dodge St. Then, I crossed the street and walked around the campus of the University of Nebraska at Omaha, looking at art in its galleries.

This is something I do often (take long walks) and have done since my early 30’s, when I gave up jogging.

The next day, and for several days after, I experienced intense leg pain, specifically around my knees, (above, below, and on each side of them). This was something new. I wondered if this was a turning point, in my aging process. I wore the same shoes as always, and the distance seemed about the same as on other walks.

So, I rested.

A few days later, all seemed well. So I went on my usual jaunt to the Dodge St. Salvation Army Thrift Store to drop off some donations. It’s a familiar, less than a mile, walk. I enjoy doing that.

I decided to take a different route back, and was extra careful of turning traffic at intersections. One of them had an island that I stopped at and then caught the driver’s eye before proceeding. It made me slightly self conscious and overly confident, I think, showing what a good, strong walker “this near old lady” was.

As I stepped off the curb, still kind of looking at the driver, I misjudged the step and slid a little on gravel, wrenching my left knee (OUCH!) as I avoided a fall. I made it home, hobbling and humbled.

So, for a week or two, RICE (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation) was my treatment. Our rarely used footstool became a favorite thing. No Alleve was necessary, although my Doctor of Pharmacy daughter-in-law told me to take it daily to avoid swelling (a good idea).

In early December we went to visit our son’s family in Norman, OK. Three dogs are members of that family. One of them, Murphy, a muscular Boxer type, really liked me, which I loved. On our second day, he caught me off guard by an overly enthusiastic greeting bump, to my right leg, right side, around the knee and hamstring. OUCH AGAIN!

Molly, 15, looked sympathetically at me, quietly expressing her sorrow at my pain, and comfortingly at her dog, seemingly assuring him, “It’s OK, you’re still our pal.”

This brought up the conversation of dogs knocking people down. I held my ground, not falling, but oh, did it hurt!

Bending my leg was impossible. I think we iced it. Jack, 18, brought me a battery operated massager, like they use at football games along the sidelines for injured players. I kind of laughed in my mind, imagining me as an athlete, ha ha.

They also gave me a stretchy workout band to help stretch the muscle.

Two Alleves were taken. It felt good to be so well taken care of!

There were two things that were especially hard to do: getting into bed (I had to “lift” my leg with both hands and put it up on the bed), and, to get into the car the next morning. Both things we take for granted!

In the months since, I’ve come to realize that standing or walking is fine, once I get going. It’s the sitting too long to read, write, eat a meal, or watch TV that gives me painful knees when I get up (very slowly).

All of this is not to ask for your pity; it’s just that I’m an expressionist who likes to tell about things as they are. There are many people going through worse pain and adjustments. If, for instance, I ever have a knee replacement, I expect that to be a very hard thing.

Recently we traveled to AZ to visit family. The young man helping us with our luggage saw me limping and offered advice, “The best thing for your joints is Vick’s Vaporub.” I like the scent of that, every once in a while; it’s comforting, and I think it helps.

As it continues to heal, I’m reminded of a couple of things. One is the phrase “On my knees” which generally means prayer. The other is my neighbor on Farnam St., Linda, who told me years ago that the only way to clean a floor is on your knees. I plan on ignoring her, and will continue to use a mop.

I’m going to end this with examples of workers on their knees. The first is an art piece that I’ve always liked, “The Floor Scrapers”, an 1875 painting by French Impressionist, Gustave Caillebotte. It makes me think of scraping and refinishing the oak floors at our first house on 55th and Jackson, in Omaha, which is the second photo, from 1979.

Take care always,

Shirley

Shirley Neary

On College Years Past

This is the year that our granddaughter is looking at colleges. She has a few favorites already. I put in a good word for Iowa State University because of its beautiful campus, good programs, and that is where I attended. Whatever she decides, this is her time for the college experience!

Oak Hall, Iowa State University Dormitory

A few years ago, on August 4, 2011, I wrote this about that topic:

Earlier today, at breakfast with Mom and Dad, Ed and Linda, and Dan, I found out that our nephew, Nathan, is going to ISU this fall, and living in Linden Hall.

Oak Hall is right by that. Oak Hall, (4th floor, King) is where I lived for the first 2 years of college.

So, it reminded me of a visit to Ames in 2002, 30 years after I lived there.

It was a rainy Saturday morning. Dan dropped me off so I could go have a peek at the inside of my old dormitory.

The first thing I noticed? The front concrete steps were worn down in the middle from years of footsteps.

Shirley and friends. King House, 4th Floor, Oak Hall, 1972

Then, inside, I smelled the mustiness, and dustiness of the old building. Or, maybe (just kidding here), it was the boys who were now living in this once all girls dorm.

I walked up to 4th floor and knocked on 3041, hoping to see the inside. No one answered. So, I left a message on the dry erase board hanging there. “Hi, I lived here 30 years ago, and had a wonderful time!” Then, I drew the ☮️ Peace sign, and signed my first name.

One of the letters I received in Oak Hall, from Dan.

When I went back outside, and saw Dan parked in front, along that familiar curb, it came to me that not only were our years of college over, but also all four of our children’s too.

I burst into tears at the thought of this swift passage of time, just as I opened the car’s passenger door, leaving Dan to wonder what he had done this time to make me cry.

Shirley