The Seasons Personified Art

A group of 7 students (male and female) some wearing backpacks, others carrying books, stand together with their backs toward the camera looking at a wall-sized Afro-centric map of the world. One student is pointing out something in africa. Two students are talking to each other.
A modern scene. 3 men and 2 women sit around a rectangular table discussing things. Bibles, journals, iPads and laptops, pens and pencils, cups of coffee and tea are on the table. A window is to the left of them and light streams in. Outside scenery is forested with a brook.
From a little distance, An island goddess spirit robed in green leaves observes a castaway man sailing a raft towards a larger island in the distance. The goddess spirit looks sad to see him leave and reaches a hand towards him but is unseen
A koi pond seen from above, orange and white koi fish swimming among lily pads, clear water with subtle ripples, fallen cherry blossom petals floating on the surface, dappled sunlight
house with front view
Walking into a workshop, a clean, but well-used work area with low light, I see a straight-on view of an old workbench with a vise mounted on it, with tools hanging on the wall behind it. A handsaw, brace-and-bit, several different size and styles of screwdrivers, several chisels hanging in a rack together, a couple mallets and clawhammers, and particularly, a large carpenter's square.
Walking into a workshop, a clean, but well-used work area with low light, I see a straight-on view of an old workbench with a vise mounted on it, with tools hanging on the wall behind it. A handsaw, brace-and-bit, several different size and styles of screwdrivers, several chisels hanging in a rack together, a couple mallets and clawhammers, and particularly, a large carpenter's square.
An outdoor scene on a street in town. A White Mom and African-American Dad with their two Asian children are sitting at a sidewalk cafe. The mood is warm and safe. Everyone has a drink. Mom and Dad are talking to the boy, who is making a fuss. He is unhappy about something, and crying. His sister is looking on. Dad is about to say something.
First century Palestine. Jesus sits on a rock on a hillside teaching a large group of His disciples. The Sermon on the Mount. Jesus wears a plain robe like most ordinary men. Jesus' face is kind, but intense, as He teaches. The other people are mostly peasants, farmers, and tradesmen. There are also women present, wearing plain, everyday clothing. Some couples have also brought their children. The Sea of Galilee shines in the far distance.
First century Palestine. Jesus sits on a rock on a hillside teaching a large group of His disciples. The Sermon on the Mount. Jesus wears a plain robe like most ordinary men. Jesus' face is kind, but intense, as He teaches. The other people are mostly peasants, farmers, and tradesmen. There are also women present, wearing plain, everyday clothing. Some couples have also brought their children. The Sea of Galilee shines in the far distance.
So, you look at those captains and then at yourself and you wonder: “Why them, and not me?” As you paddle along in your pitiful state, a canoe you hope no one will see. But there’s just enough room for those trusted to you for safe passage, provisions, and tare. So, you keep to yourself, and you follow the shore, making passage for those in your care.
Personal POV scene. Me and Jesus in the desert on a cool morning at daybreak walking toward a bright star. Jesus is wearing old clothes and carrying a satchel. I’m wearing old clothes and sandals just like Him. The air is cool and crisp. The sky is bright blue on the horizon with deep purple fading into black at the upper atmosphere. The air is crisp and clear. It’s like the desert in California looking east toward Arizona. There are desert hills on the north and south sides and mountains in the distance.
Now, we’ll all have our time on the rapid And we may end together, alone, going ‘round and about in an eddy bruised and broken and soaked to the bone. But the eddy keeps silent the wild current’s call alongside those now grateful captains and all we are given reprieve from a death at the fall as we move to and fro’ in the spin. We stand safe, as the spin takes us in.
A koi pond seen from above, orange and white koi fish swimming among lily pads, clear water with subtle ripples, fallen cherry blossom petals floating on the surface, dappled sunlight
The San Gorgonio Pass, Mt. San Gorgonio) rises in the North, all hoary-frost and granite. Snake-like clouds adorning her peak, I gaze past the big white house toward her uplifted boulders. And at the South, Mt. San Jacinto has lost his head in cloud. Burned bones against a blue sky backdrop. Between the two, another sunrise gleams and beams of brilliant, white-hot day flash forth: They accentuate the Sonora desert’s west extreme, and last night’s moon, high up on the left, forgot to go away.
Out where the river runs wild and free and only the brave dare row; where the rapids are deep, and the challenge is fresh and it takes them where it means to go. With breakneck speed, grinning into the wind, standing straight on the bow of their craft, just a glimpse now and then of those captains you’ll catch flying by, near capsizing your raft. They’ve no time for advice to those standing on shore or to aid the ones just wading out, for their task is to pilot this current, they think, and it’s all they can do to stay out of the drink, and their lives could be gone in the space of a wink should they lose but a moment to doubt. Standing tall, they never must doubt!
Now, those captains must learn what the river will do when it makes that great turn out of sight. How it dashes them up on the rocks of the shore How it spins to the left and the right. It beats them and breaks them and crushes their pride Leaves them dizzy and sick and all jumbled inside ‘til they’ve all but forgotten that glorious ride lying flat on their deck in the sun. There they lie, drying out in the sun. As you round the point where the river was bent and survey the great wideness ahead, you can see all those captains alone on their decks, beat and broken and very near dead. Then the current takes hold and there’s naught you can do as it drags you down into its maw. Headed straight for those rocks, you make ready to crash but at last, you rise up, roll and yaw. Going back and away, then forward again, fearing each time, the rocks will prevail! You’re trapped in a cycling, circling tide, in an eddy withstanding a gale. But each time you circle that great whirling tide and you’ve not hit the rocks or been thrown to the side and you’re kept from the falls, cascading and wide, for the eddy’s small mercy give praise. Give the merciful currents your praise!