Melissa's Musings and Doodlings

Savoring Here and Now

2012-01-04T13:08:00.000-05:00

Sitting in the darkened living room, Stephen beside me, we watch the Christmas tree lights randomly sequence slowly through varied color combinations--the result of Stephen's programming fun last year. Milo is curled on the hearth, absorbing the fire's warmth; Petra is snuggled at my feet, twitching slightly as she dreams, and the other pets are sleeping nearby.

Christmas music is playing softly, the fire is quietly crackling. All else is still. And so we sit, absorbing the fullness of the moment. Quiet inside and out, reflecting on the gifts of this season. Peace, love, time together, life, hope. A Savior, freely given, and the gift of faith, that we may know him. Nothing is lacking.

I want to stop time and hold this moment forever. I know I can't, though, so I savor it fully, heart attuned to the present moment in both this time and this place. All of myself here now, with Stephen, with myself, and with our God.

Tea with Bilbo

2011-12-21T17:57:00.002-05:00

Bilbo watched me expectantly, his stub tail wagging, as I put the kettle on, took a mug out of the cupboard, and rustled in the tea cabinet. He knew what that meant: time for afternoon tea. Bilbo, a rescue Australian Shepherd with an unknown history, had a tendency to become anxious if anything in his routine changed. And, of course, most routine went out the window for our family of five during holidays, with three active teenagers and their friends in and out of the house. Add to that my tendency to become stressed during the holidays, and neither Bilbo nor I was a happy camper.

One year, as Bilbo’s anxiety mounted and my holiday-related stress rose, an idea occurred to me. Why not share a cup of tea with Bilbo? I started making a pot of chamomile tea each afternoon, knowing the calming qualities of chamomile, and looking forward to a few quiet moments for myself. Very soon, Bilbo and I were both looking forward to this daily interlude of quiet connection in a busy time of year. I’d make the pot of tea, pour some in a bowl and add a couple of ice cubes, pour myself a steaming mugful, then give Bilbo his tea at my feet, while I sat in my rocker with mine. He would lap, I would sip, and both our stress would retreat for a time. After drinking his tea, Bilbo would settle with a sigh, always touching one of my feet. I would sit quietly so as not to disturb him, and we would enjoy a few moments of quiet connection.

Each dog has given me different gifts; one of Bilbo’s gifts to me was a way to slow down and enjoy simple peace and quiet in the midst of holiday stress. Bilbo is long gone, but those quiet moments shared over a cup of tea are some of my most precious memories of him.

Walk in the Woods with a Child

2011-12-11T18:08:00.001-05:00

I recently came across the following poem that my Grandmother wrote many years ago, after walking with me in the woods behind our home one day. I think I was probably about eleven, when Gramummy asked me to take her for a walk in our woods and show her some of my favorite places. (At that time I spent most of my free time exploring our woods and the 750 acre sanctuary beyond our stone wall.) I remember the joy I felt at the opportunity to share my wonderful world and point out the little signs of the wildlife I loved. I didn't know Gramummy had written about our walk until years later, after she had died, so it was a special gift to receive this poem.

Walk in the woods with your children

And learn the wonders of God.

I walked in the woods with Melissa

And heard the song of a bird,

I saw the print of a field mouse

And smelled the scent of the wood.

I felt the presence of creatures

That gave perspective to man

And yearned for the power ofchildhood

To know God's miraculous plan.

Edith D. Beach

This Barred Owl reminds me of one early morning years ago, when Jonathan, Arielle and I got up before dawn and went out into the woods to observe and sketch. We were thrilled to find a Barred Owl posing beautifully in a tree, and we stood for a long time admiring and sketching him.

Riga Falls, where I sat on the damp woods floor and sketched with my nephew Felix last summer

Babycakes Cafe Exhibition

2011-12-04T19:09:00.001-05:00

Babycakes Cafe in Poughkeepsie, NY offers space for local artists to hang their work, and my work will be there through the month of December. I'm delighted at the opportunity to exhibit my work locally, and Babycakes has become one of Steve's and my favorite spots to go for an evening out dinner date. Arielle and I have also been there for brunch, and so far everything I have tried there has been delicious.

Here are some of my watercolors you can see at Babycakes.

Stonehenge

Filigree

Surveying His Kingdom

Blue Ridge Thanksgiving

2011-11-30T13:39:00.001-05:00

We met up with most of Stephen's family for Thanksgiving last week in Buchanan, Virginia, a quiet, artsy, rural town in western Virginia. The James River flows by one side of the town, and the town is flanked by both the Blue Ridge and the Appalachian Mountains-- a beautiful place. It was a wonderful time of family fun, hiking, game playing, laughter, and catching up with each other- a perfect Thanksgiving.

The last day we were there, Jonathan and I went up to the Blue Ridge Parkway, pulled off at the first scenic overlook, and sat on the sidewalk absorbing the view and talking about his life in seminary, while I sketched the view.

After we went back to the James River Inn where we were staying, I did another painting loosely based on my plein air sketch.

The evening before we left, I took our three dogs out for a walk along the river and was treated to a gorgeous sunset with pink and purples and golds coloring sky and river and leaving a glow on everything else. I had neither my camera nor my sketchbook with me, so I did my best to commit the scene to memory, and then I painted it when we got back to the inn. I want to do more painting from memory, both as an art exercise and a memory exercise.

Berkshire Break

2011-11-19T17:47:00.001-05:00

I visited a friend earlier in the week in the beautiful Berkshire Mountains, and had a wonderfully refreshing break from my busy schedule. Her house overlooks a wooded valley bordered by soft mountain views. The fall colors are mostly past, but the reddish brown of oaks remains, dotted with the blue green of pines and spruces.

I spent a leisurely morning painting the landscape from the dining room, as it was drizzly and chilly outside. Clear sunny days may be spectacularly beautiful, but I especially love the soft, quiet beauty of a misty, wet day in the mountains, and that's what we had.

After a morning of painting, my friend and I hiked through neighboring fields, which were carpeted with thyme-- such a delightful fragrance! In the afternoon, when the rain had stopped, we relaxed in the hot tub on the deck, enjoying the fresh air, the beautiful scenery, and the hoots of owls calling to one another in the nearby trees. A perfect day away!

Darkness and Dawn

2011-11-18T14:41:00.001-05:00

Opening my eyes, I gazed at the dawn-streaked, still-dark sky, bare trees standing in tall silhouette, with neighbors' lights twinkling through the woods. I headed straight for my studio, but kept the lights off and stood at a window, studying each tree's shape, lingering on the many small branches and twigs revealing its unique "fingerprint" in the sky.

I cherish these minutes before sunrise, when the woods and trees and birds all seem to be holding their breath in anticipation of what is to come. Quiet moments when the day's work has yet to begin, and the night's softness blankets the world outside my door. Lights still off, I took up my brushes in the quiet studio and started transferring darkness and light to paper-- a reminder of magical moments filled with hope. The beginning of a new day.

Recent Thoughts and Works

2011-11-13T17:51:00.001-05:00

I've been quiet for a while for a variety of reasons. Mostly, I miss Bituminous, and although he isn't on my mind all the time anymore, every time I have come to my blog to post something, I would see my post about him and have to go do something else. It's amazing how such a small creature can have such a large presence, and that presence is still very much missed.

I've also been quite occupied with dogs to train, and that has been good, but does make it hard for me to find the chunks of time I need in order to get into a writing frame of mind. This past week, though, I took a complete break from facebook, and that has made a huge difference. Even though I wasn't spending a great deal of time on facebook, the time I was reading there was having a somewhat scattering effect on my thoughts. Staying away from it freed my mind up in ways I hadn't expected. I found myself much calmer and more settled inside, and I was able to work much more efficiently and enjoyably, whether at writing, housework, or correspondence. Although I will be visiting facebook, I am planning to carefully monitor and limit my time there.

I have been painting as I have had time and opportunity, especially outside when weather has permitted (which hasn't been all that often, between summer heat that extended into fall, then nonstop rain, then a heavy October snowstorm!). Unlike facebook, painting has a calming effect on me, and I almost always feel better for having taken time to paint, no matter how my paintings turn out.

Here is a sampling of my paintings and sketches from the past three months:

Riga Falls-- Plein Air Sketch

Stump -- Sepia Graphite

Harvest Moon

Rocky Mountain National Park- Charcoal Study

A Blessing Named Bituminous

2011-08-09T13:57:00.013-04:00

A lapful of love, a warm chin in my elbow, a soft paw tapping my chest, green eyes gazing into mine. This was Bituminous for many wonderful years.

This morning his time ran out, and I let him go peacefully before he lost his peace in this life. He snuggled his cheek into my hand right up to the end, enjoying my gentle love that wanted to keep him forever, but even more wanted for him to never know the suffering that would have come soon due to his failing body.

My Bituminous—a mighty hunter in his younger years; a friend small in stature but great in trust; a beloved member of our family for over eighteen years. Somehow, because he had beaten the odds so many times over the years, I thought he would keep on going forever.

I learned much from my little friend. Early on he showed me what trust looks like. I remember stepping outside before bed and calling him to come inside. The night was black and so was he, and all was silent. Then a small piece of the night would step into the circle of light spilling from the windows, and Bituminous would come running joyfully to me from the darkness. A small creature, less than one tenth my size, hurrying toward me without hesitation, with perfect trust. From him I learned to have a greater trust in God, who is so much greater than I.

In recent years Bituminous has helped me learn to slow down and savor quiet moments. Over the past few years I have spent many happy hours with my warm cat on my lap, with him sleeping or watching me, and me reading or watching his calm breathing. Life slowed down as I stepped out of the rat race, into peaceful reflection and silent connection that enriched my days and helped me grow into the person I am today.

Thank you, Bituminous, for the gifts you brought me. You were a gift in every way.

Duck Pond Gallery

2011-08-09T08:39:00.005-04:00

On Saturday my first solo exhibition opened at Duck Pond Gallery in Port Ewen, NY. The opening reception was a great evening with friends and family from near and far in attendance--such an affirming and encouraging time! Many more people were there than I expected, including some we hadn't seen in years, so it was a time of one joyful surprise after another as people walked in the door. I also especially enjoyed seeing various circles of my life meeting in one place-- family, dog community friends, art friends, church friends, and home schooling friends. In addition, I met several artists whom I am looking forward to getting to know.

I have fifty-one paintings on exhibit, including birds, other wildlife, dog portraits, landscapes, and a few florals and winter trees. It was certainly exciting for me to see my work framed and hanging in one place, and I am even more motivated to keep on painting and expanding my skills and my horizons as an artist.

I owe a very big thank you to all the people who have encouraged and supported me along the way and helped me get to this point. Without their input, I would not yet be exhibiting my artwork.

Playing with Summer Color

2011-08-02T17:29:00.006-04:00

I've been busy preparing for my first solo art show (more on that in an upcoming post), but yesterday I had to take a break to enjoy the vibrant colors of summer. Purple Coneflowers (Echinacea) and Black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia)are blooming profusely in my garden so, as the sun was strong and the temperature was in the nineties, I cut a few and brought them into the relative cool of my studio to paint.

I just played with water and color on my paper, not worrying about detail or precision, merely attempting to capture the lively, bright feel of the blossoms. I didn't want the beauty of summer to pass without me taking at least a few hours to saturate myself with it and relax with a brush in my hand as I captured some moments of fleeting color.

2011-07-28T12:04:00.011-04:00

Another 10 minute writing:

A Color

Brown—a rich, nourishing color. The color of soil when it’s full of organic matter, ready to supply life to all manner of plants and trees.

When I put on my brown shirt I can slip silently out of sight. No one can find me unless I wish to be seen. But I am not merely unseen by people; I could use grey for that. In brown I fit into another world—the world of trees and earth and wild animals. Of rocks in the creek, bright with sunlight dancing through the water, making rich and alive the varied browns of the creek bed.

I am present in time and place, not pushed and pulled in the often confusing world of people. My brown shirt is like a mantle of calm that allows me to step out from under so much that jars and rattles.

I smile inwardly when wearing brown; I am in a world that makes sense and I can be me.

And now I shall put on my brown shirt and step out of sight…

Brief Writings

2011-07-25T10:54:00.004-04:00

A friend and I have been doing some quick writing exercises, then discussing them. We each pick a topic (perhaps just a word to use as a jumping off place) and each write on both topics. Each topic has had either a ten minute or twenty minute limit, so there's no time for careful planning or for editing. Afterward, we discuss what we've written. It's been fun, great for jump-starting writing ideas that could often be expanded, and often leads to some surprising thoughts, images, and insights in both the writing and the ensuing discussion. Here are a few of the pieces I've written.

Face to Face with an Animal (10 minute writing)

He alights on my shirt front and looks up at me, bright, black eyes fixed on my amazed, brown eyes. Time stands still as we connect across seven inches, across species, even across class- bird and mammal. He a tiny Black-capped Chickadee, I an adult human being.

An intricate creation, perfectly formed, independently functioning, or at least as independently as any of us can imagine ourselves to be. I wonder if he realizes that every breath is a gift. No, he wouldn’t realize it, but he does live it-- living each moment fully in the present, trying, learning, repeating, and finally trusting.

And I am overwhelmed by this gift of trust, given so gently, so much at risk if I were to prove false. Trust—a precious thing to give and to receive. I receive it from the tiny bird; I give it to his Creator and mine, he who made both the bird and me, and on whose hand I alight and rest.

A Joyous Childhood Moment
(10 minutes)
I bounded through the front door and turned a somersault , then rolled on the large Oriental rug in the entryway. Energy overflowing, I did another somersault, then leaped up and looked out the French doors, beyond the brick terrace, past the dogwoods clothing the hill in pink and white splendor, and to the soft, blue hills in the distance. I look down at my legs and smile. The soft blue denim with white stitching was magical, giving me strength and skill and possibility.

My first pair of blue jeans opened a new world to me, and I knew inside that I could do anything and go far. They made me feel free in a way I hadn’t felt before. Someday I would walk into those hills, those blue hills that beckoned to me every day.

Rest (10 minute writing)

Oh, thank you! I hold out my hands, palms up, to receive the gift, and embrace it with a sigh of gratitude.

Rest— my body, but even more my soul is renewed in times of quiet. Quiet, but it might not be still time—perhaps hiking in the woods, invigorated by the lack of social pressure and by stretching my legs and pushing my body. That may not be rest for some, but for me it is as though fresh life is being pumped through my veins.

With each step I take, my vision of who I am comes into clearer focus—ageless, clean, made of joy. Sight unobscured, I see; ears clear, I hear. I breathe deeply and am filled with boundless energy, with overflowing peace, with bubbling joy, with deep gratitude.

Sensory Input at this Moment (10 minutes)

Hard metal presses against my seat, my feet, my back, slightly softened by the towels with which I’ve covered the deck chairs. The hum of air conditioners fades in and out of my awareness but is always there, as is the sound of distant traffic.

A Red-bellied Woodpecker churrs from my left across the stream. On all sides I hear the tapping, tweeting, chirping, rattling, and singing of birds—so delightful! Dog toenails click on the deck , then soft fur brushes the underside of my knees.

Colors are muted by humidity and by the heavy cloud cover; that softens the greens and makes them all alike. A hummingbird hovers briefly by the dogwood, then vanishes.

The freshness of mint, the jungle-scent of thyme waft by, the blue tartness of my morning berries lingers in my mouth. This is morning on my deck… thus my day begins.

Growth (10 minutes)

They stretch and push, then pop out of the ground and surge upward, reaching toward the light, spreading leaves outward and skyward to catch the sun.

I was watching some awe-inspiring time-lapse photography of seeds germinating and growing into strong, young seedlings. Growth—amazing to see and inspiring to watch.

But growth isn’t always so clearly visible. In fact, sometimes it isn’t even discernible until seen in retrospect. Nor is it always lovely and awe-inspiring to watch. More often than not it’s a messy, halting, sometimes painful process.

Beauty out of ashes, and those ashes seem to be all one sees for quite a while. Even once the beauty can be seen, the smudge of ashes remains for quite some time, perhaps to remind of us whence we came. Is that so that we don’t take the beauty for granted but remain aware of the process? Or perhaps so that the next time we or someone else is struggling to emerge from the ash heap, we can hold out hope that they or we can grow toward upward and someday stand tall in the light.

Musings and Doodlings from the Great Smoky Mountains

2011-06-26T13:24:00.018-04:00

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
Psalm 121:1-2

My mind mused often on Psalm 121 as I gazed at the ever-changing, always majestic, mountain view from the deck of our rental house on the side of a mountain in Tennessee last week. We had a wonderful week that included time with all three of our children and time to hike, as well as to rest, read, paint, and ponder. Rather than retelling the story of our time there, I'm posting photos of my trip journal pages, so you can join with me in my enjoyment of the mountains. These are not polished paintings and carefully selected words, but rather my on-the-spot musings and doodlings from the deck or by the side of waterfalls and other places in the park. (Click on images to enlarge them)

Some Recent Paintings

2011-05-25T13:27:00.009-04:00

It's been a while since I've posted much art work. I slipped into a bit of a painting slump after Steve's father died in January, and I'm only just getting back into the groove. It's not that I didn't paint all winter-- I did, but most of what I painted just didn't turn out. It's interesting to see how much one's emotional state impacts artistic expression. I've always known it does, but it's hard when one is stuck in the midst of it. I was feeling somewhat aimless and generally sad, and my paintings seemed to be without focus or feeling of life. I have also found it hard to write, I suspect for similar reasons. Doing a couple of pen & ink drawings was helpful in getting me jump started painting again; getting lost in the small details pulled me into a different place and restored my confidence and enthusiasm.

Here are the pen & ink drawings I did.

And a couple of paintings I did of Milo. He always makes me laugh with his antics, and his wagging tail cheers me no matter how down I might feel, so painting him often lifts my spirits.

These Chickadee are two of my beloved little friends who eat from my hand

And this is Jade, the Mallard Drake who visits our stream with Agate, his pretty mate, every spring. I did this from a photo Jonathan took many years ago, so our springtime visitor this year may be a son or grandson of Jade, but the Mallards visit without fail for a few days every spring, then go elsewhere to nest.

I seem to be back into a painting mode and am eager to pick up my brushes and play with color again. This afternoon I will be painting with a friend in her garden full of beautiful flowers, so perhaps I'll be posting flower paintings soon.

My May 3rd Bird

2011-05-04T19:18:00.006-04:00

Yesterday, May 3rd, a Rose-breasted Grosbeak spent the day enjoying my feeders and perching in the lilacs. I spent much of the day looking at him through binoculars, taking photos of him, and just enjoying his presence. Although they are common in the area, I have only seen one other Rose-breasted Grosbeak at my feeders, also for just one full day, and also, as I realized this morning when I looked at old photos, on May 3rd, in 2007.

Why May 3rd? I can't help wondering if there's something that attracts a bird to a given location on a certain date. Perhaps the lilacs were just barely starting to open on May 3rd in 2007, as they were yesterday? Or perhaps something about the day length drew the bird to my garden on that particular date? Or perhaps it was just coincidence.

Whether coincidence or indiscernible detail (indiscernible to me, that is; obviously not to the bird), this is one more reminder to me that there is so much more to creation than what we already know or can readily observe. I'm reminded of when I took a biochemistry course in college. I had dreaded it, expecting it to be full of boring details. Instead, I found that I was learning the most fascinating details of life, and I felt as if I was seeing the fingerprints of God-- traces of his magnificent work that was happening all the time right in my own body, without my conscious awareness.

As a friend of mine puts it, our sight and understanding is like a pinhole view into the universe, surely limited in more ways than we realize. I love it when something enlarges that pinhole slightly, opening my sight and my mind to more of what there is, even if I don't understand what I'm seeing. I am thankful for my May 3rd Bird, who has lifted my spirits with his beauty, raised questions I doubt I'll find answers for, and reminded me that my sight is limited, that there is mystery beyond my current knowledge and understanding.

A Moonlit Walk

2010-12-26T06:50:00.008-05:00

I opened my eyes to see moonlight, filigreed with ash tree shadows, splashed on our comforter. Sleep vanished (or rather, vain attempts to sleep were forsaken), as I was drawn irresistibly by the silvery light and the promise it held of solitude, silence, and stillness. Donning wool hat, scarf, mittens and a down jacket over my pajamas, I slipped out the back door into the fullness of the night.

My thoughts, jumbled like scattered pick-up sticks while I had lain abed, began to align themselves with each step I took in the moon-dappled darkness. Confusion, anxiety , and insecurity yielded to truth and reality in the free-flowing, uninterrupted meditation and prayer of my predawn walk.

Tension replaced by quiet wonder, I continued to walk, now seeing the bright star (more likely a planet) over the frozen swamp. Through spidery tree limbs and misty atmosphere, it really does twinkle and shine with many points. A few dimmer stars peered through the growing cloud cover. The half moon shone down brightly from the still-clear southwestern sky, illuminating even the faint path of my footsteps in the grass. Surrounded by the unspectacular beauty of a common night, I walked in peace and quiet communion with nature, myself, and my Creator.

Panther!

2010-12-05T08:34:00.002-05:00

I drove west along the Tamiami Trail, the kernel of anticipation inside me growing with each Egret and Heron that I saw and with each glorious transmutation of the Everglades from bright daylight through sunset to the richness of a deep Thalo blue night sky. It was all so different and new; I could barely contain my eagerness to get out of my car and soak it in.

Then I saw the sign-- "Panther Crossing"...

Panther Crossing??!!

Oh my goodness! Really??!! I pulled over to text a friend about the sign and to say that I hoped I would see a panther. Within minutes she texted back, "Of course you want to see a panther, my dear." My friends know me.

Alas, according to the proprietor of the motel-- a very knowledgeable and helpful outdoorsman, and according to the rangers at the national park visitor center and the woman at the area information center, my chances of seeing a panther were close to zero. There were very few remaining in the wild; they were secretive; their territories were very large, so even if one were in the area, chances were it wouldn't be where I was; you could live in the area for years and never see a panther. Well, I hadn't come here even thinking about panthers, so I would still have a wonderful time birding and adding to my life list. But still... I would keep my eyes open for large cats...

I was staying in Everglades City, a small fishing and crabbing town where the Gulf Coast visitor center to Everglades National Park is located. There was very little traffic, few people, and much wild space-- my kind of place. But, some of the travel guides I'd read had said that one should really go to the other entrances of the National Park rather than this one if time was limited.

I was torn. I wanted to get the most out of my time there, but I loved the area I was in and was loathe to leave it for a busier area. Waffling in indecision, I called a friend to ask for help thinking through my options. She wisely didn't tell me what she thought I would enjoy, but instead asked what I was afraid I would miss. I replied that the guide books said to go to the other places, to which she responded that the guide books are written for standard Americans, and that I am not standard-- that I could find beauty sitting on the curb of a parking lot. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, I knew that I would stay where I was. It felt like the better fit for who I am. I might miss some spectacular birding, but I would enjoy the peace and quiet of the less populated area.

I headed out on dusty Wagon Wheel Road to see what birds I could see in the swamp/sawgrass prairie that extended from both sides of the road. Driving very slowly, stopping often to get out and see birds, I traversed only about 16 miles in four hours. After driving a few miles along the road I looked up to see what appeared to be a person hiking in the distance. As I got a bit closer, I realized it wasn't tall enough to be a person, and I felt a sudden thrill of excitement-- maybe it was a BEAR! I stopped the car and raised my binoculars to my eyes...

Just then the large animal turned and stood sideways in perfect silhouette-- unmistakably a Florida Panther.

I stared in wonder as the panther stood motionless for a minute or two, then watched as he walked off the road and vanished into the trees of the nearby hardwood hammock.

I may have missed some spectacular birding by staying where I was, but I received the gift of a panther sighting, something that will be etched on my mind and soul for the rest of my life.

Experiencing the Everglades

2010-11-23T17:43:00.043-05:00

I've always wanted to see the Florida Everglades. Just the name conjured up images of lush jungle, low-hanging vines, large spiders, long snakes, lurking alligators, beautiful birds, and much more. I finally had an opportunity to visit the Everglades, with Nathaniel for the first day, and on my own (with Rowan) for another two days. To my surprise, much of the area I was in more closely resembled prairie than jungle. I know there are a variety of diverse habitats within the confines of Everglades National Park, in fact that amount of diversity is one of the unique features of the Everglades, but I had no idea how much of it consisted of grasslands. Wet grasslands, to be sure, but nonetheless, grasslands extending through miles of sawgrass prairie.

Nathaniel and I went on a boat tour of the Ten Thousand Islands area. The scenery was beautiful and the birds plentiful. From the boat we had several glimpses of manatees. We only saw their noses as they came up for air, but as I had never seen a manatee, I was pretty excited. Then some bottle-nosed dolphins joined us and started leaping and playing in the wake of the boat, an amazing sight.

After Nathaniel left, Rowan and I continued on our own, first exploring along the boardwalk at Big Cypress Bend in Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park, where I lingered long, loving the feeling of being enclosed and hidden in depths of the swamp.

Royal Palm

Anhinga

Strangler Fig

Southeastern Lubber Grasshopper

After extricating myself from the mystery of the swamp, we drove a few miles along the Janes Memorial Scenic Drive, where I saw many alligators, Egrets, and Herons and a great deal more swampland.

I headed to another swamp area to walk along the Kirby Storter boardwalk, where I saw an American Bittern, as well as several other birds and more swampland.

Queen butterfly seen at another small boardwalk beside the Tamiami Trail

Cypress

Epiphytes growing in the trees

On my next day I explored along Wagon Wheel Rd and Turner River Rd, taking four hours to traverse about 15 miles, due to frequent stops (every few yards) to look at birds, alligators, and turtles.

Sawgrass Prairie

Swamp Lily

Tricolored Heron

Little Blue Heron

Great Egret

Great Egret

After a late lunch and a brief nap, I head to the Ten Thousand Islands National Wildlife Refuge Marsh Trail. What a beautiful place!

Great Blue Heron

After nightfall I returned to the Wagon Wheel Rd/ Turner River Rd drive to see what night creatures might be about. I saw a snake and a couple of frogs, but otherwise not much was stirring within my field of view. I did stop my car a few times, turn off the engine and headlights and step out to enjoy the absence of man-made noise and lights. The darkness was broken only by the moon and stars and numerous fireflies, and the only sounds were those of nature. I stood a while in silence, drinking in the peace and fullness of the night, then reluctantly got back in my car and returned to the bright lights and loud noises and incessant chatter of civilization.

On day three I too the tram tour at the Shark Valley Visitor Center, a very informative and enjoyable ride through the sawgrass prairie.

Baby alligators sunning on mom's back

Great Blue Heron

Adorable baby alligators

Great Egret

Great Egret courtship dance

Anhinga

Great Blue Heron

A Week of Sadness; a Week of Reminders

2010-10-27T10:39:00.010-04:00

I don’t normally write about dark subjects. In fact, during difficult times, my journal tends to sit gathering dust, then when things are looking up, I start writing again. I’m not sure why that is, but that has been my habit for as long as I can remember. It’s not that I don’t think about the sad or dark things that come my way, but for some reason I have little interest in writing about them. But last week was a sad week for many people I care about, and I am mulling on it now.

My sister lost a very close friend who died unexpectedly. To add to her grief, they had had some misunderstanding and hadn’t spoken for a few weeks. The funeral was yesterday and was devastatingly sad for my sister. My heart aches for her.

A close friend’s cousin, with whom she’s very close, received a very grim diagnosis last week, and their whole family is reeling. My heart aches for my friend and for her family as I pray for comfort for them in this very hard time.

Another good friend lost her sister on Sunday, after a two year, very brave battle with cancer. They are thankful her pain has ended, but these sisters were very close, and the loss is great. My heart aches for this friend and her loss, and she is very much on my mind.

Yet another friend lost a friend of hers Sunday after a long and painful illness. She is relieved that he is no longer suffering, but her heart aches deeply. She is unable to attend the funeral, because of estranged relationships in their circle of mutual friends. My heart aches for this friend, too, with her double grief at losing her friend and being unable to honor him at his funeral service.

My father called a few days ago to tell me that my uncle, his younger brother, died. He had a massive stroke and died a few days later. My father had been planning on seeing him a couple of weeks from now at my uncle’s granddaughter’s wedding. I didn’t know my uncle well, but my heart aches for my father, and I am sobered at the reminder that a death in the family brings.

Then a few days ago, Steve and I were driving along and I had to suddenly pull completely off the road to avoid a head-on collision with someone who seemed to be aiming right at my car and who continued to head straight for us, despite me blowing my horn at them. It felt like a very close brush with serious injury or death, and I was shaking but very thankful to be safe.

Life is precious, as are the people in our lives. This past week has been a reminder to me to cherish the people I love and to celebrate the gifts they are in my life.

Filled with Wonder

2010-10-24T17:20:00.014-04:00

Fall colors, brilliant sunsets, perky Chickadees, serendipitous snowflakes... I've had many moments of surprise and delight in the past week.

On Wednesday I sat on my deck with a friend and painted the fall colors and then did a page of quick watercolor sketches of the Chickadees as they came flying in to pick up seeds. I love the freedom and curiosity of these little birds.

Thursday and Friday Stephen and I went hiking in the mountains above Riga Farm. Thursday afternoon and evening we took a three mile hike up the mountain road above the farm, returning in time to watch the sunset as we came back down the mountain.

Friday morning I was awake very early and enjoyed a few hours of quiet reading, painting, and walking while Steve slept. I painted the stream out back through the kitchen window, since it was too cold to paint outside.

We expected it to be a bit chilly on Friday, but we did not expect snow! It snowed off and on most of the day Friday, not accumulating on the ground, but sticking long enough to speckle the dogs' backs with white. Many of the snowflakes were perfectly formed six-pointed stars.

After a pleasant six mile ramble on woods roads through hilly areas and around beautiful mountain lakes, we hiked up Round Hill-- a shorter but much steeper hike. I got scared and stopped a bit below the peak to paint the view, while Stephen explored farther up to the top. While I was painting it started to snow again, and the snowflakes landing on my slightly damp paper made wonderful watermarks-- another of the magical effects of working in watercolors. I will never grow tired of this medium and the surprises it provides.

Yesterday I painted on my deck with another friend and tried to capture the kaleidoscope of color surrounding my house. The tall stump in my painting is a relic from a tornado-type storm years ago-- the children were young, and we watched with awe as the majority of the tree fell in slow motion, landing across the stream with a mighty crash. The stump that remains is still living, and each year the branches grow a bit longer and fuller and drop a pretty tapestry on the grass in the fall.

Today I sat on my deck yet again, enjoying the warmth, despite a bit of drizzling rain, and the Chickadees joined me almost immediately, with one even landing on the handle of my paintbrush as I was painting with it! Another Chickadee hovered a couple of inches in front of my face, as if studying me. It is an amazing feeling to be trusted by a tiny wild bird!

Things that are beautiful....

2010-10-20T21:22:00.006-04:00

Things that were beautiful today:

Fall colors lit by late-afternoon sun...

Chickadees boldly singing inches from me...

Titmice timidly gathering seeds nearby...

Smiles both seen and felt...

The soft sheen of Bituminous's fur against my arm

Things that are beautiful tonight:

Trees silhouetted against the bright orb of the moon...

Late-season crickets singing before the frost silences them...

The stone walkway, softly lighted by moonlight...

Petra's eyes, shining up at me as we walk...

The warm glow of lights shining from the windows

Les Artistes

2010-10-14T19:49:00.017-04:00

photo by Alexis Thompson

On Tuesday I gave a power point presentation on my life as an artist for the "Les Artistes" lecture series in the Center for Lifetime Study. What a delightful group of people! This was my first experience giving a lecture and presentation of this sort, and I had a great time. Of course it's always thought-provoking and enjoyable for me to look back over my growth as an artist, and I was hoping that by talking about my relatively slow start in the arts, I would be able to encourage the members of the audience to give painting a try, if they hadn't already or if they were struggling with artists' block. To that end, I focused especially on the process of art more than the product.

I find that many people, perhaps professional artists even more than most, often end up being so goal or product oriented that we lose the joy of the process. That seems a real shame, since painting or drawing can be so meditative and calming, so I spoke about sketching, about doing "parking lot art," and about being playful with color. I illustrated my points with examples from my sketchbooks and my finished paintings.

People had fabulous questions and comments that, in some cases, clarified for me why I compose my paintings or choose my subjects as I do or got me thinking along new lines. It's always wonderful when feedback after an event contributes to the ongoing growth process. It was a privilege to be asked to present my work and a delight to do so! Thank you to the class organizers and to the Center for Lifetime Study!

Here are a few pieces that I included in my presentation:

My first elephant painting, when I was sure I couldn't paint an elephant

A more colorful elephant piece after I relaxed and became playful with color

Horse Chestnuts (Conkers) painted just for fun with an online watercolor group

Some examples of "parking lot art" painted in local parking lots or highway rest areas

And two older paintings of mine that have a story:

Pen & ink with watercolor Barn Swallow for Stephen, who hates mosquitoes and loves swallows. He used to always watch and tell me about the swallows swooping in the fields across from work, so I painted this for him.

Veedor the Andean Condor, a wedding gift for my brother and his wife, who were excited to see one of these birds flying in the mountains of Venezuela on their honeymoon. Andean Condors live about 60 years and mate for life, so I thought this was an appropriate wedding gift. I met and photographed and sketched Veedor, who flew around, then crash landed against my legs and tore my jeans. I don't normally like having torn jeans, but having jeans that had been torn by a free-flying Andean Condor was pretty special!

Colorado- dog training, hiking, and sketching

2010-10-13T13:41:00.013-04:00

I was in Colorado a couple of weeks ago for a few days of hiking and painting and for a "Dealing with Difficult Dogs" conference with Sarah Wilson and Brian Kilcommons. The conference was another fabulous opportunity to watch Sarah and Brian teach and work with untrained shelter dogs that they hadn't met until that moment. Sarah did some quietly spectacular work with some shy/sensitive/deficit dogs. As always, it was wonderful to watch the shy dogs move in a matter of minutes from shut down and fearful to sweetly trusting, as they discovered that Sarah was trustworthy, safe, and kind. I never grow tired of watching Sarah win the confidence of these dogs who have never known that a human could be a pleasure to bond with.

Brian worked with independent dogs and on-leash aggressive dogs, and he, too, is always impressive and eduational to watch. His confident and skillful timing and use of the leash to help move the dog into respectful connection is a dance of sorts, and I came away with new mental images of how to use the leash and improve my timing to give a dog more helpful feedback and effective communication.

On the third day of the conference, Sarah and I co-taught a full day of hands-on intensive learning. Over the years Sarah and I have developed a seamless teamwork as we've worked together, and it was a real pleasure to be doing so again. The students were fabulous to work with and were very impressive with their handling of the many dogs we worked with at the Longmont Humane Society that day. In the afternoon Sarah demonstrated how she teaches loose leash walking. She worked with multiple dogs of a wide variety of temperaments, and all were walking nicely beside her in attentive, happy connection within minutes.

In addition to the dog training parts of the trip, I greatly enjoyed seeing friends from all over the country and Canada, some of whom I had met before and others whom I was meeting for the first time at this conference.

As for the hiking and painting, Colorado in the fall is GORGEOUS. Rowan and I hiked through Chautauqua Park to see the Flatirons on two different days, and we drove and hiked in Rocky Mountain National Park one afternoon. I could easily spend a week in RMNP, but that will have to wait for another trip.

Richly Blessed and Very Thankful

2010-09-16T20:34:00.001-04:00

Tracking in the rain with Milo, seeing Rowan curled up with one eye on me, sketching Chickadees as they perch inches from me, walking with my dogs cavorting around me, painting marigolds in the garden—these are some of my happy moments today.

My life is rich and full in a quiet way. It’s not that there isn’t anything I wish for, but I am content as I am and don’t need anything else to make me happy. I have work I love, people I love who love me, my dogs and cats in whom I delight, and the ability to enjoy it all. What better gifts to fill my life?

Reading with Bituminous on my lap, feeling Petra’s sweet nose nuzzling my arm, Silver batting my brushes off my table, Stephen reading to me, talking with my children— these are more happy elements of recent days. I am richly blessed and very thankful.

My Little Friends

2010-08-28T20:50:00.005-04:00

I sat on the deck this morning and listened to the whir of wings, felt the gentle currents pass by my head, and watched with wonder as many birds came and went between the overhanging branches and the safflower seeds on the railing and table. Most were Chickadees, such perky, curious little birds. If I were a bird, I would want to be a Chickadee-- so full of fun, joy, and life.

There was at least one young Chickadee, still a bit smudgy-looking rather than tuxedo-perfect in his coloring, who would land just over a foot from me and study me inquisitively, sing a few happy-sounding notes, then sort among the seeds for just what he wanted before taking off. Older, slightly-more-cautious Chickadees would land a bit farther from me, ponder a moment as they looked around, then take two or three seeds and depart.

At first a few Titmice landed, then seemed to suddenly notice me and leave without taking any seeds. After a while, though, they seemed to become convinced that I was safe and would land, look around, then help themselves to a seed. A House Finch alighted on the rail and watched the influx of other birds for quite some time, before she decided it was safe. At that point she hopped right into the saucer on the rail (the other birds all perched on the edge) and remained for many minutes eating, while the other birds watched (in dismay?). My friend the smudgy young Chickadee, though, happily hopped to the seeds near me on the table, sang a happy song and selected the seeds he wanted, while his elders looked on.

Once I heard a low, loud hum behind me and realized a hummingbird was feeding on the purple flowers in the hanging planter. I didn't actually see her until she zipped away into the nearby fly honeysuckle shrub.

I shot a few photos but spent most of my time watching and sketching and smiling at the antics of my small, feathered friends.

After this perfect morning, Steve and I went to my parents' farm, where I spent the afternoon sitting on a hillside drawing with both my parents, while Steve went hiking (and hiked sixteen miles up and over and back down Mt. Riga!). I drew the view and my mother sitting against a tree drawing, my mother drew me sitting beside the stone walkway, and my father painted my mother and the view. After painting we sat by the pool for a while, then I picked a bag of apples to bring home. A perfect afternoon to round out the day.

Riga Farm

2010-08-18T13:46:00.006-04:00

Yesterday some members of the Lower Hudson Valley Plein Air Painters joined my mother and me at my parents' farm to spend a gorgeous day painting outdoors. The weather was wonderful, not getting too hot until mid-afternoon (and then still okay in the shade), with beautiful views in every direction. The hardest part was figuring out which of the many inspiring options to paint. One thing I like about painting with other artists is the opportunity to see through their eyes, sometimes discovering beauty in places I had overlooked it.

We painted all morning then gathered by the pool, surrounded by a stunning array of snapdragons, to have lunch and iced tea, while talking art and getting to know each other. Then we dispersed for an afternoon of painting, before picking peaches in the orchard and heading home. What a great day!

In the morning my mother and I painted a dead tree up by the tennis court. I find dead trees fascinating. They look dead, and indeed, the tree itself is no longer alive, but there is an abundance of insect life and subsequent bird life in the old wood. I also love the weathered grain that reflects light in so many shades.

After lunch, one of the other artists was painting the view between the barn and the tool shed, not a spot I would have thought of, but it was a nicely framed scene. A bonus was that the farmer was mowing the field we were painting, and we were entainted by the cows galloping after, and even in front of, his tractor.

Last month when I spent the night at Riga Farm, I did some painting and some writing while enjoying a quiet day alone.

Here are some bedtime musings from my time there:

I close my journal, lay down my pen and turn off the light. Bedtime after a full day. But… I cannot resist the call of the night, so I unlock the door, open it a bit, and look out cautiously from side to side. No black and white of skunk in sight, so I step out, quietly shut the door, and slip into another world.

The half moon shines bright over the heavy silhouettes of the maples flanking the orchard. The Evening Star—Venus—is still hanging above the western hills, brighter than any of the stars that shine through from unimaginable distances. I scan the sky until I come to the Big Dipper, a familiar friend I’ve known since childhood. Tracing a line through the two end stars of the dipper and beyond, I meet the North Star, and from there find the Little Dipper. Some of its stars are almost too faint to see; I can only discern them because I know by heart where they have to be.

I search the sky again and think that perhaps I’ve found Cygnus, the Swan, but I’m not sure. It’s odd how I barely remember the constellations I learned in more recent years but know well the ones Papa taught me so long ago. Thank you, Papa, for this, among many other things you taught me of the world of nature.

The nearby rushing of the creek draws my attention, and I listen—to the water running endlessly over smooth rocks between mossy banks (where I sat this afternoon on a pebbly spit reading, with my bare feet in the cool stream), to the crickets singing in the night, to the lack of traffic noise. This last pauses my mental meandering, and I savor the absence of noise and the clarity of the sounds of nature—the music of creation with my ears tuned to its subtle melody.

Painting at Vanderbilt

2010-07-20T19:39:00.006-04:00

What a great day! I spent today painting at the Vanderbilt, an estate and mansion on the Hudson River, with fabulous views both up and down river. I met with some artist friends from the Lower Hudson Valley Plein Air Painters, and together we enjoyed the view, the bleating of goats nearby, and the time outdoors. At midday it started raining and I continued to paint under the shelter of a towering maple tree. We've had so little rain that I happily welcome the sound and feel of it at this point.

I enjoyed the time with fellow artists and the inspiration of seeing how they painted the same view as I and hearing people's suggestions for each others' paintings-- always a learning experience. Rowan was with me and was delighted to meet so many friendly people, and he also met quite a few friendly dogs. And of course I loved the time spent painting beautiful scenery-- one of my favorite ways to spend a day. All in all, a very good day.

I was aiming for an atmospheric feel to my landscapes, and am happy with how they turned out. I may do a little touching up on a couple of them, but this is what I did while out today. One of the challenges of plein air painting is the way the light changes, sometimes in a matter of minutes dramatically altering the scene. When it started to rain upriver, all was muted and monochromatic in that direction while still bright and sunny downriver.

Night Air

2010-06-18T13:46:00.002-04:00

Night air feels different. Alive with potential, still with meaning, it wraps around me like a shawl as I sit on a cool deck chair. Fireflies, stars, and the sickle moon draw my gaze, each hard to look away from, but, even so, my restless mind drives my eyes from scene to scene and back again, not pausing long enough to dwell on any one sight.

Still, the night draws me in. The stars, so far away, speak of immensity and power that inspire awe, causing me to pause in spite of my thoughts. The moon shines through the tall pines with a warm light, brightening the sky and making me smile. How could one not smile while looking at the moon? And fireflies-- they dance over the stream and in the woods, each making a statement-- a tiny statement, but one that fills me with wonder.

Something inside my chest softens, my shoulders drop, my jaw relaxes. Whirling thoughts and tensions slow a bit, then settle into a peaceful, quiet hum. They become a chapter in a book—-the pages of today; and now I’m ready to close my book until tomorrow, with the words of the night air still in my mind.

I sure miss Dis

2010-06-02T12:44:00.002-04:00

I opened the steno pad that I used as a diary, scrawled the date in my irregular script, then wrote the words I wrote every night—“I sure miss Dis.” I set my pencil down when my desk blurred through my tears. As I squeezed my lips tight, my afternoon’s walk came into focus.

After getting off the school bus I had dawdled on the ¾ mile walk home, lost in a dream world as I was every day on the walk home. Every now and then I’d attempt to bring my mind to where I was, but I’d duck immediately back into the world in my mind, almost as if pulled by an irresistible force. More often than not I was surprised to eventually find myself at our door. I’d quickly made myself two Swiss cheese sandwiches, gobbled them down, then run into the woods, as I did nearly every afternoon.

Crisscrossing our ten acres, I had called Dis over and over, then crossed the low stone wall into Butler Sanctuary. Wandering aimlessly, yet purposefully, driven by grief and love, I kept calling Dis, willing my cat to come to me. Maybe, maybe if I called her enough and searched far enough, she would come back. When I stood still and closed my eyes, I could see her trotting calmly toward me, her long, black hair bouncing slightly with each stride, the small white comma beside her nose like a smile as she approached… I had been calling Dis most afternoons since the day Papa had driven me farther down Chestnut Ridge Road and we had found Dis beside the road, where she had died after being hit by a car.

As it did every day, my mind replayed that awful afternoon… I had asked Papa to take me out there, expecting to possibly see our somewhat feral cat Bilateral Symmetry, based on the neighbor boy’s description of the cat he had seen hit by a car that morning. As soon as I had gotten on the school bus he had told of the cat’s agonized struggles, of how he begged his mother to take the cat to a vet and how she refused, about how he had had to get on the bus seeing the cat still flipping by the side of the road. I thought of little else all day, and when I got home immediately asked Papa to drive me down the road. As we drove past, I saw the long hair and stiffened in the passenger seat, just managing to force the name “Dis” out of my dry, knotted throat.

Papa picked her stiff body up and placed her in the car. When we got home, we walked down into the woods, where Papa dug a hole by the Rhododendrons. I held Dis. Papa placed her in the hole and filled it in with dirt. I have forgotten most of the kind words Papa said to comfort me while we buried Dis, but the words I remember were him asking if I had noticed that he had placed Dis in the hole with her head uphill. That has always stuck in my mind as the kindest thing he could have done; he made sure she would not lie forever with her head downhill.

I spent almost a year trying to prove that I loved Dis, repeatedly calling her to come to me, writing of how I missed her, longing to somehow find the formula to turn back time and convince her not to leave me, but she never did come back.

Plein Air Painting at Boscobel

2010-05-11T17:21:00.005-04:00

It was frosty this morning, but I bundled up in several layers, including my winter jacket, and Rowan and I joined other artists on a plein air paintout at Boscobel on the Hudson River. We set up across from West Point-- bluish mountains in the downriver distance, hills a bit closer, then extensive marsh lands just turning bluish-green spread out below us.

Red-wing Blackbirds darted over the reeds, flashing red and yellow epaulets as they described their territory in song. A Baltimore Oriole entertained us with glimpses of brilliant orange along with rich, liquid notes from surrounding treetops. Sparrows flitted among the shrubs on the slope in front of us, and I heard a warbler of some sort singing unseen.

Rowan lay contentedly, alternately watching me and turning to enjoy the view, especially when trains went by on the distant tracks. My dog at my feet and time to paint-- a perfect day.

Stonehenge Dawn

2010-05-08T18:36:00.005-04:00

When I was in England last year I wasn't at Stonehenge at dawn, but I've imagined what it might be like with early sunrise colors and with birds coming in for the day. I always love the magical feeling of being outside to welcome the day and I would think it would have an extra special feeling at such an ancient spot.

(If you click on the picture, you can see a larger version of it.)

Stonehenge Revisited

2010-05-06T20:54:00.002-04:00

One year ago today I visited Stonehenge, a place that had always intrigued me and that I had long wanted to see. I love the mystery surrounding ancient construction and like to learn about and ponder the possible theories behind such edifices. Mostly, though, I like the feeling of walking with some sense of awe where people so long ago also walked with awe.

I also have always liked stones and rocks and like to look at them, feel their textures, learn about them, and paint them. I've always enjoyed some aspects of rocks, but because of Jonathan's fascination with rock collecting, I've learned more about them and my appreciation has grown.

When I was a child I would hide behind and under boulders, especially on a jumbled boulder field in Butler Sanctuary where I often climbed. The solidity and immensity of boulders always makes me stop and look in admiration, observing the surface, the colors, the edges, but mostly the immovability. I can't not look at rock cuts, stone outcroppings and pebble fields.

So, visiting Stonehenge was special for many reasons, and I enjoyed just walking and gazing. I could have stayed for hours and hope to go there again someday and perhaps spend more time absorbing the feeling of antiquity and unrefined beauty.

I painted this today as I remembered my time there, and I'm painting another one with different lighting that I hope to finish tonight or tomorrow.

Recent sketches

2010-05-03T21:16:00.001-04:00

3:00 AM Walk

2010-05-03T21:07:00.001-04:00

The soft sound of the rain lures me from my bed. Never mind that it’s 2:53 AM, or perhaps because it is, I’m drawn outside. With my dark pajama bottoms, raincoat and brown Muck shoes, I’ll be pretty much invisible in the warm, wet night. Petra is the obvious choice of a walking companion. The quietest of my dogs and with almost no white on her, she also will be invisible and unobtrusive.

I flip off the motion sensitive outdoor lights so they won’t intrude on the darkness, slip into the night and look around, Petra quietly by my side. Fireflies twinkle over the swamp… not many-- they’re just getting started for the season, but a sight that always fills me with wonder and that I can’t bear to miss. A pinprick glows in the grass at my feet – glowworm?

I walk slowly, Petra padding by my side with an occasional foray to sniff where some animal has crossed. A Grey Tree Frog trills as I walk by the maple and another answers from across the stream. Then another, from farther back in the woods and yet another from the lilac. I’m surrounded by animal life, mostly hidden from my sight, but going about their lives on their land. The night is theirs; I am just a visitor to their world.

Recent Writings

2010-04-30T10:22:00.010-04:00

In our online community at My Smart Puppy, we've been writing speed drabbles recently. Drabbles are short pieces of writing that are exactly 100 words, and we've been starting with a given word for inspiration and writing our drabbles in 15 minutes or less. This is a great warm-up and confidence building exercise and is lots of fun, especially seeing how we all write such different selection from the same starting word.

The starting word for this drabble was Wig.

I had no talent for either, but music would be far worse than art. If I took art, only the teacher would see my failed attempts. With music, other students would hear me. The very thought made me squirm with premature mortification, so, with a sigh, I signed up for drawing.

The teacher set a stuffed owl on the table. After a panicked, “I can’t draw that!” I soon got lost in a world of the owl, my paper and my pencil. Forgetting my lack of talent, I contemplated and drew… and discovered a new love.

Thank you, Mrs. Wiggins!

Here is my owl drawing, done when I was a senior in high school. I wish I could find Mrs. Wiggins to thank her for the inspiration she passed on to me.

The word for these two drabbles was Alone.

Alone drabble #1

It’s one of those sometimes difficult relationships. With quality time, there’s respect and even love; without it, things deteriorate quickly into annoyance and judgment. It’s not like those friendships that seem to remain strong even when years go by without close contact. This one needs attention and nurturing—which is easy to overlook until the tension level has risen.

With time to connect, though, there’s fun, enjoyment, laughter, a ready smile. Joy in the little things, a feeling of peace in the quiet moments, spontaneous fun.

It’s time for me to get reacquainted with myself, to spend some time alone.

Alone drabble #2

The hurry slows, the nagging feeling of “ought” diminishes, time spreads large and wide ahead of me, full of potential without pressure. Raindrops patter on the windows, gentle notes of a wordless lullaby, not lulling me to sleep but calming the frenzied swirling of my thoughts, washing tension away. My senses seem clearer, like the freshly washed air; my mind is both quiet and poised with anticipation, savoring this time, ready to either dance with birdsong or to quietly contemplate. As the oughts fall away, the possibilities gain substance and beckon me forward to step into my life with delight.

This drabble was inspired by Power. I spent more like twenty minutes on this one.

It creates or destroys. Builds up or tears down. Reveals truth or spins lies. Heals or hurts.

To keep from damaging, diminishing or desecrating. To stop that gossip or barbed comment before it slips out. Is there anything harder?

To encourage, comfort, make a difference for one life that ripples outward for years, for a lifetime…

To build connection rather than distance, bridges rather than walls, love rather than hate… this is all the realm of a small yet powerful part.

To tame the tongue and to use it well… that is power - the sort of power I'd like.

Two days ago I woke up early and went right out for a walk, then wrote this-- over 100 words, so not a drabble.

I pull a heavy sweater over my pajamas , slip my feet into my Crocs, and step out into birdsong—Cardinals, Robins, Titmice, Chickadees awakening the day. Heading up my driveway in soft-soled stealth-mode, scanning the still dark woods, I spot three sleepy does just as they spot me- and leap to their feet, causing me to startle momentarily.

I continue, Canada Geese and Chipping Sparrows now adding their calls to the growing concert. A Spruce stands tall and black against the glow in the Eastern sky as a Red-bellied Woodpecker lilts past. I pad silently, drinking in the dawn.

The crown of a Maple turns green, then suddenly all the gray gives way to shades of abundant life, and more birds merge their voices with the joyful announcement of morning. I turn homeward, surrounded by the songs of Phoebes, White-throated Sparrows, Bluebirds and more. The day has begun, and I am ready to join it.

Festival of Faith & Writing

2010-04-23T18:53:00.008-04:00

My brain is filled to bursting with all that I heard and participated in at the Festival last week. I took over 25 pages of notes (and sketched many of the speakers I heard), so will only touch on a few highlights here. That's not so easy, since it felt like one, continuous three-day highlight, but I'll try.

For starts, it was wonderful to meet and listen to established writers whose books I've read and who turned out to be real people with many of the same doubts and questions and struggles as I have. Hearing about their growing process as writers has given me more confidence in my journey and more enthusiasm for pursuing writing in my areas of interest.

Eugene Peterson has been one of my favorite authors for many years. His writing draws me in so that I find it hard to put the book down, except for his writing about prayer, which is so inspiring that I drop my book frequently to spend time in prayer. His talk last week was an example of the power of personal story. He told the story of how he became a pastor and a writer, and in the process we absorbed much truth about what makes a writer and what writing is. One point he made was that we write as a conversation with our readers and we write into what we don't know, as a way of exploring and discovering, as a way of paying attention and as an act of prayer.

Here's a sketch I did of Eugene Peterson as we were listening to another speaker.

Sara Miles has given me much to think about and chew on, both in her book, Take This Bread, and in the two opportunities I had to hear her speak last week. One of the many things she spoke about that has me pondering is her thought about the difference between healing and cure and how there can be one without the other. Cure would be physical recovery from an affliction of some sort, whether disease or something along the lines of alcoholism or some other problem. In other words, the typical situation we want "fixed."

Healing, as Sara Miles sees it, is bringing wholeness to individuals and communities, and it may or may not be accompanied by cure. She spoke about how diseases and other problems tend to isolate people-- or rather, society tends to isolate those whom they see as sick in some way or other, viewing them as "unclean." She reminded us of how Jesus touched the unclean when he healed them, thus bringing them into connection, even as he became unclean through touching them. She stated that healing happens in relationship and that prayer is one of the deepest forms of relationship, both with God and with other people.

I went to two talks by naturalists-- Paul Willis and Kathleen Dean Moore. Paul Willis spoke about John Muir, and I really enjoyed his gentle, quiet approach. We read some selections from Muir's journals and discussed them as a group. I think I'd enjoy taking a class taught by Willis. His manner blends well with his subject matter and promotes a contemplative attitude by example. I'll be pondering his manner of being and speaking as much as his words.

Arielle and I attended the talk by Kathleen Dean Moore together. Moore caught our attention right from the start, when she said that her father had had a Downy Woodpecker in his freezer, as I currently have a Downy Woodpecker in my freezer. Moore spoke about having movement in a nature essay from experience and observation to exploration of meaning, from what one notices to what one questions. That was part of the pattern in Holdfast that I enjoyed so much. She said that the task of the nature writer is to awaken a sense of wonder and awe.

Leslie Leyland Fields, Jeanne Murray Walker, and Paul Willis spoke together about translating personal suffering to the shared page. One interesting point they made was that being highly rational, being highly spiritual, and using humor can all be ways of denying the reality of pain, rather than allowing our own felt, painful lives to connect with our writing. They talked about writing into our sufferings to steward the afflictions God has granted us when the time is right. Wow! What a thought. That gives a whole new perspective on suffering.

Mary Karr was the last speaker, and she was fascinating. Very honest about her life and struggles and urging us to be honest in both prayer and in writing. One thing she said was that she loves her readers and feels a conscious connection to them as she writes. That was evident in her manner as she answered questions after her talk. Her simple, straightforward way of speaking and replying to questions was motivating and gave a sense of emotional connection.

There was so much more, but that is all I can summarize now. I have much to meditate on and notes to read and reread during the coming weeks. There were quite a few other powerful speakers/talks I heard, and I need to ponder them for a while as I let them sink into me and shape me in various ways. For now, I am eager to write, but feel as though I am in a holding pattern of thinking and allowing information and patterns to develop in my mind.

Morning Has Broken...

2010-04-07T17:14:00.007-04:00

Morning has broken
Like the first morning,
Black bird has spoken
Like the first bird.
Praise for the singing!
Praise for the morning!
Praise for them springing
Fresh from the Word!

Sweet the rain's new fall
Sunlit from heaven,
Like the first dewfall
On the first grass.
Praise for the sweetness
Of the wet garden,
Sprung in completeness
Where His feet pass.

Mine is the sunlight!
Mine is the morning.
Born of the one light
Eden saw play!
Praise with elation,
Praise ev'ry morning,
God's recreation
Of the newday!
(words by Eleanor Farjeon)

This is one of my favorite hymns and it has been running through my mind ever since Easter morning. The weather has been gorgeous, with early sunshine shimmering on dew-covered grass every morning when I go out to walk dogs. Birds are filling the air with song, including the Red-wing Blackbirds in our swampy area. I just love these days.

We had a delightful Easter, my favorite day of the year. We started the day with church, singing my favorite resurrection hymns and having breakfast together as a church. Then Stephen and I packed all the dogs (five of them at the moment) up in the car and headed to my parents' farm to spend the day with my parents and my brother Alexis with his fiancee, Lina, and my brother Thaddeus with his family. Unfortunately Jennifer wasn't able to join us, since she lives so far away. We shared stories, laughed, did some dog training, and ate a lot. My newly pierced ears were a big topic of conversation with my mother and brothers. A good day that has had me smiling every time I think of it.

Here are some journal entries and other paintings that reflect my generally happy thoughts of the past week.

A Week of Retreat in New Hampshire

2010-03-31T19:59:00.017-04:00

I recently spent a week in New Hampshire, pet-sitting part of the time, visiting part of the time, and having a delightful mother-daughter time with Arielle for part of the time. It was a refreshing and restful week, during which I spent much of my time painting and reading. The weather was beautiful the first few days I was there, so the dogs and I spent hours outside together.

Most of the painting and drawing I did was in my sketchbook journal. Working in my sketchbook sometimes helps me be more relaxed than painting on sheets of paper, plus I love being able to look back over my sketchbook journals as a pictorial record of my days. Just like my day to day life at home (or especially when on retreat), the pages aren't polished or even all that carefully cropped (mostly because it's hard to get them flat for a photo). As such, my journals reflect more of me being in the moment and in a meditative frame of mind than on the go and externally focused, as I am when I'm out and about.

I always love to see other artists' casual sketchbook pages and find them inspiring, so I figured I'd post mine here. All of these sketches were done from life with no preliminary pencil sketching. (If you click on the images, you'll see a larger version and can read the entries.)

Petra's Peregrinations

2010-03-15T12:01:00.004-04:00

Petra is my live wire. Rarely tired, Petra could be on the go all day long and still look for more to do. As I type, she's dribbling a tennis ball by bouncing it on the floor, catching it, bouncing it again, and so on. Sometimes she lies flat on her side, looking calm, but rolling a tennis ball in circles with a front paw, all the time staring at it, until apparently it suddenly needs to be grabbed, at which point she leaps to her feet and takes the ball captive.

All three of my dogs are enthusiastic about their meal times, and I love the different ways they express their eagerness for me to finish dishing out their kibble, each in a way that reflects their own personality. Rowan sits close to my right side, his nose under my elbow, as I reach into the bin to scoop up the food. His front paws dance slightly up and down and he trembles with contained energy, but he doesn't otherwise move or make a sound. Milo dances with his whole body, leaping into the air, flipping his head and ears, and baying with uncontained excitement.

Petra peregrinates. As soon as I reach into the bin, while Rowan quivers and Milo bays, Petra trots off in the opposite direction, heading down the hall, through the living room, through the kitchen and back to me. She pauses, surveys the situation, then sets off on her circling again. In the past few weeks I've been saying, "Petra peregrinate!" as she starts off, and now she is starting to peregrinate on cue if I tell her to at other times during the day. There's no good reason for the command "Peregrinate," except that it is fun for Petra and makes me laugh. It fascinates me to see how, like Milo, Petra turns her excitement into motion, but unlike Milo, her enthusiasm is expressed in a calm and contained manner.

Petra has finished her dribbling and has moved on to practice her back spin, something she has begun working on recently. She places a front paw firmly on the ball, grabs at it with her nails, then pulls her paw back and down hard and fast, causing the ball to shoot out from under her paw, but with a strong back spin so it quickly moves back toward her, at which point she pounces on it and repeats the game.

Petra is a fun, fun dog to have around, always thinking, always ready and eager to work with me, always willing to do some problem-solving.

Painting with Jennifer

2010-03-14T17:14:00.008-04:00

Jennifer was up in New York for our mother's 80th birthday (we had a party for her last weekend), and yesterday Jennifer spent the day here so we could paint together. Because she lives in South Carolina we don't see each other very often, and we always enjoy the chance to paint together. Jennifer has been painting far longer than I have and has provided inspiration and encouragement for me often since I started painting seriously. Also, our shared interest in art is one of the things that has drawn us together as adults, so it's always a pleasure to spend a day painting together, whether attending a workshop, sketching from the car on below-freezing days, or painting a variety of subjects in a warm house. We share ideas and enthusiasm and we help each other with our paintings. Thank you, Jennifer, for a fun day yesterday!

Here are the sketches and paintings I did-- no great art, but all great fun:

A quick sketch of Silver, who was sleeping in my studio

And a quickie of Bituminous, from a photo

Snowdrops from my yard

Canadian Sunset, from a photo by a friend who lives in the frozen north

Sharjah Sunrise, from a photo by Pat Southcombe who lives in the United Arab Emirates.

Sophie, a friend's beautiful baby granddaughter

Book Review-- Holdfast

2010-03-11T09:04:00.005-05:00

I just finished reading Holdfast, by Kathleen Dean Moore, a philosophy professor and naturalist. What an interesting book! It's a series of short (that works well for me), very engaging essays that touch on a broad range of topics, with many interesting tidbits thrown in. Two of the tidbits I especially liked were the fact that Chickadee brains actually expand in the fall as they hide seeds for winter eating and that marine mammals sleep with only half their brain at a time. I looked both up (of course) and am filled with awe about the Chickadee brains and their memories and am fascinated to learn about the way dolphins sleep.

I also liked the way the author describes her reaction to and appreciation of simple, everyday nature observations, as well as less pleasant stuff like deforestation and supposedly renewable resources, like forests that are used for logging. I have a feeling her philosophy classes might be understandable to those of us who don't naturally think in big, philosophical words and concepts.

Interwoven with all of the essays are glimpses into her family life and who she is as a person with likes, dislikes, joys, fears, and questions, which drew me in and kept me wanting to read more and get to know her. I'll definitely be looking up more of her books.

Kathleen Dean Moore is a presenter at the Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College that I'm attending next month, and I'm looking forward to hearing her speak and hope to meet her.

Musings on Very Early Spring

2010-03-10T20:07:00.007-05:00

I lifted my eyes from my book without moving my head to watch the Chickadee alight on the log in front of me, cock his head, then straighten up and sing a few notes of Spring. He again cocked his head my way, then hopped forward to select a seed, considered a second seed, then flew off with a slight whir of his wings. A second Chickadee immediately landed and studied me, while I studied her. From 30 inches, each feather, even every barb of each feather, was clearly discernible, so small, so complete, so perfect.

I can't quite come up with the word for how it makes me feel, but it is somehow soul-filling to be able to watch so closely. It's the same feeling I have when I smell the fragrance of hemlock needles drenched with warm sunlight or listen to a Winter Wren warble it's fairytale song.

Most of our yard is still covered with about four inches of snow, but the bare patches are growing daily. Yesterday I discovered a clump of snowdrops, still closed but nearly ready to open. They still weren't quite open today, but have expanded enough that the green on the inside is now partially visible-- a promise of warmth, sunshine, and the coming greening of the earth.

Musings on Mindfulness

2010-03-05T18:31:00.004-05:00

I opened the door to let Rowan out then, as I was closing the door, I turned to head back to my desk. Out of the corner of my eye I saw stars twinkling in an inky black sky. That's a sight I can't resist, so I stepped outside... and heard an owl hooting from the trees at the base of our hill. That's a sound I can't resist, so I shut the door behind me and stood in the crisp night air, enjoying the peace and richness of the moment.

I almost missed that wonderful sight and sound because of my rush to get back to my desk work. It was good work I was doing, but it was better to take a minute to stop, observe, see, and hear what I miss more often than not, and best to use that as a reminder to be mindful for the rest of the evening.

I've been musing on living in a mindful manner and one key element, for me at least, is to slow down and fully live each moment, each opportunity. I'm sure it'll be a long time, if ever, before I fully live every moment, but I hope to become more aware and slow down my rushed thoughts that try to carry me into a new activity before I'm even finished the previous one. I think that is what has to happen in order for my movements, thoughts, and words to become more conscious and imbued with grace. And that, in turn, should help me tread more lightly through life, so that I can observe without overwhelming and interact without interfering.

More Dogs

2010-03-01T13:22:00.005-05:00

Dog on my easel
coming to life with color
I'm eager to see your face

I'm still painting dogs. I just love trying to capture on paper the feeling of connection in the expression of a devoted dog looking at his or her person. I also like to play with colors or sometimes with just one color to capture the feeling of a dog, whether looking at his person or sleeping contentedly.

Sleeping Beardie

Shaggy Dog-- this is my second painting of this Shaggy Boy. I enjoy trying to get the feeling of the bright sunshine on his fur.

Here's the start of a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. I don't usually start with the eye, but on this one I did. Often the eye is the last part that I paint. On this pup, though, his eye is really the focal point, so I decided to start with that.

More Dogs of Various Sorts

2010-02-26T16:27:00.009-05:00

I've been enjoying painting dogs this week, both in my sketchbook and in larger paintings. I've also been reading several books on wolves, coyotes, and foxes; I always love learning about wild canids.

I'm still recovering from my concussion and can't do a whole lot of any one thing before I have to either rest or switch to some activity that uses a different part of my brain. Painting seems to tire me less than pretty much anything else, so I've been doing a fair amount of it, especially when I need to calm my mind. I've been painting dogs for the past few days, but we just got 17 inches of snow and it's still snowing hard, so I'll probably be trying my hand at snow scenes soon.

Here's Gomez, the sweet Basset Hound I painted a while ago. I decided to do another painting from the same photo but make a few changes in emphasis and background.

Then I painted my sweet Beagle boy, Milo. This was done using a reference photo of him lying on my lap looking up at my face. I love painting Milo and am now working on another of him using a paper with a different surface to get a different effect.

And here are some African Wild Dog or Painted Dog sketches, using Arielle's photos from her trip to South Africa last summer. I still don't have the proportions quite right, but I'm going to keep practicing these until I have a feel for them. As with most of my paintings, these are done with just watercolor, without sketching beforehand. I was inspired to paint these Wild Dogs both by Arielle's photos and by a blog entry by Alison Nicholls, a watercolor artist who paints many African animals and who did a recent blog post about Painted Dogs.

A Relaxing Day in My Studio

2010-02-20T15:24:00.012-05:00

Painting relaxes me in a way little else does, and sometimes I just can't (or don't want to) put down my brushes for hours at a time. Last night I painted until late and today I spent this sunny day in my bright studio playing with a variety of subjects and styles.

Bearded Collies-- I'm in the mood to paint shaggy dogs

An elegant adult in the snow

Fuzzy Beardie puppy

A Bible verse I was meditating on

African Wild Dog sketch using a photo of Arielle's. The dog was sitting in a puddle of water.

Valentine's flowers from Stephen in different light and in different styles.

At night under artificial lighting

In natural daylight-- it fascinates me the way blue flowers, especially, look different in different lighting.

Scattered Sketches

2010-02-19T14:10:00.011-05:00

I usually have several paintings going at one time (just as I'm reading several books at a time), and I switch back and forth to whatever I feel inclined to paint. Here are a variety of sketches I've done recently.

Some quick, simple sketches of African mammals, using a friend's photos.

A neighbor called to say she'd had an owl spending the days in her trees, so I went over a couple of times to photograph him. It was too cold to stay outside to sketch him, but I'm hoping to get back and do that if he's still there. Here are a variety of sketches done to get a feel for the owl and just for fun.

While waiting to meet a friend at the Walkway Over the Hudson, I started a quick tree sketch in the parking lot, then finished it after our walk. I love the shapes and details of winter trees and would like to do a series of paintings or ink drawings of them. The sun shining on this tree especially caught my eye.

Valentine's Day: Celebrating the Simple and Ordinary Moments of Our Life Together

2010-02-14T14:31:00.019-05:00

Sitting together by a crackling fire or a glowing woodstove.

Hiking, exploring, and sharing breathtaking views.

Sitting together on a remote ledge, you reading aloud to me...

and me painting.

Enjoying wild blueberry patches at Minnewaska.

Enjoying lively discussions and fun family time with Nathaniel, Jonathan, and Arielle

Laughing together as we watch our dogs play chase.

Happy Valentine's Day, Stephen! I love you!

Moments of Connection, some Memorable, all Meaningful

2010-02-13T10:51:00.011-05:00

Milo is a comfort-loving Beagle and is rarely found resting anywhere other than on a soft surface. A dog bed, an armchair if I've forgotten to cover it, a lap (best of all). Occasionally he'll lie in a sunny spot on a rug, but generally only if there's strong sunlight streaming in or a warm fire crackling nearby.

Last night I was on the couch reading and looked up to see Milo sitting quietly in front of me, patiently waiting for me to notice him. When he saw that I was looking, he met my eyes, then moved his to glance briefly at my lap, then back at my eyes. He repeated his silent request once more, then just held my gaze. I don't know how anyone could resist such a sweet, clear, polite communication. I certainly can't, and I smiled, which Milo correctly interpreted as an invitation to leap on my lap and curl up.

I hit my head hard a few days ago and have a concussion and thus have been on the couch most of the time. Sometimes lying with Milo on my chest, sometimes sitting with him on my lap, but mostly just by myself, because I can't deal with much stimulation of any sort right now, even the slight movements of a warm, snuggly Beagle. I just woke up from a semi-nap and looked down to see my sweet Beagle Boy lying, curled in a tight ball, on the floor beside my head. Not a comfortable spot for him, not anywhere he ordinarily sleeps, but as close to me as he could be. Of course, that earned him another invitation to hop up.

These moments with Milo remind me of similar moments with past dogs. Willow's eyes-- dark brown eyes with black "eyeliner" around them, following me everywhere as I walked around the house. Willow would curl in a tight ball and rest his muzzle across his back, then watch me. I'll always remember those sweet, dark eyes following my every movement. The last night of Willow's life, when I knew I'd be taking him for his final trip to the vet the next morning, I slept on the couch and he slept curled up beside me, my hand resting on his back. We both just wanted the comfort of being close, I because I knew what was coming and Willow because his place, as always, was by my side.

I am also remembering Fleeber's last day, which makes me think back on my years with her. She and I had over fifteen wonderful years together. Years packed full of adventure, learning, change, and connection. Fleeber accompanied me to college classes, ran miles beside my bike before dawn to get to my goat herding job in time for morning milkings (where she helped me herd the goats to the milking parlor), adjusted with me to Steve's and my marriage, welcomed the children and, in many ways, we grew up together. Perhaps I'll write another post just about Fleeber, because there is much to reminisce on and tell about her life.

During Fleeber's last couple of days, she stopped eating and then seemed to sink into a coma. She was entirely unresponsive, but didn't seem to be suffering in any way, so I kept her warm and comfortable and stayed close.

As Friday afternoon stretched on, Fleeber suddenly lifted her head, then pulled herself to her feet and headed for the door. Astonished, I carried her out to the grass, thinking she had awakened to relieve herself, but no, she headed with faltering but deliberate steps for my car, then collapsed by the door. Did she somehow know that soon we'd be heading out for the children's soccer practices? We hadn't even started to prepare, and I had been worrying about leaving Fleeber for that time, but she was clearly stating that she was going with us. I made a soft nest for her on the seat, then went in to help the children get ready.

While the children practiced soccer, I stroked my once more unresponsive dog, who now lay limply curled on the seat of my car. At one point I got out to stretch my legs and clear my head for a minute, then went back. I leaned in and Fleeber opened her eyes, searching till she met mine. As I gazed into my old dog's familiar eyes, her pupils slowly expanded... then she was gone... a sweet good-bye, a moment I will always hold in my heart.

Retreat

2010-01-31T16:29:00.016-05:00

Wind brushing through the Willows; ice-covered creek gurgling as it wends beside the woods and under a footbridge; the squeak and crunch of zero degree snow under my insulated Muck boots.

Sun blindingly bright on white snow; tree limbs silhouetted against pink and orange hues of sunset; moon casting sharp, black shadows of fences and trees; stars twinkling in the indigo sky.

A peaceful spot to think and write. The luxury of time to read without interruption. The joy of playful walks with my dogs. Beauty all around to capture with brush or pencil in my journal.

I spent Friday and Saturday alone in the guest house at my parents' farm. It's a small, simple, quiet place that allowed me the space and time to unwind, read, reflect, write, paint, and walk in beautiful surroundings with my dogs. No road noise, no people, no internet, no sounds but those supplied by nature.

I was long overdue for some retreat time, and I feel wonderfully refreshed and energized by my time alone. When I first got there I found myself hopping up and down, distracted by every little thought and impulse that passed through my mind. After a few hours I was calm on the inside, sitting quietly with Milo curled on my lap, a cup of tea in my hand, while I alternately read and gazed out the window while pondering the books I was reading (The Return of the Prodigal Son, by Henri Nouwen and The Introvert Advantage by Marti Olsen Laney).

When I woke up at 3:00 AM, the bright moonlight drew me out into the frigid but peaceful night. Petra and I walked quietly up the hill to look out over the valley, then Rowan and I explored down toward the pond and danced gleefully in the snowy field.

Time alone in silence helps me find and draw forth the quieter parts of myself, the parts that get shoved down when I live with noise and the busyness of daily life and my inner compulsion to keep constantly connected with the world via the computer. I like those more reserved aspects of my being and feel more complete and alive when I nurture them. I won't wait so long before seeking solitude again.

More Dogs

2010-01-18T08:08:00.005-05:00

I'm still painting dogs and loving doing each one. Every dog is such a unique individual, and it's my pleasure and a challenge to capture some of what makes that dog who he or she is.

I haven't painted my Petra yet. Actually I have, quite a few times, but haven't felt like I've really captured who she is. Petra is so full of action and verve and inner strength, that it's been hard to get all that on paper. I think I may need to try a different style, perhaps looser, to get the essence of who she is. I'll keep trying.

I'm actually off to the vet with Petra in a few minutes, and we were at the emergency vet with her on Saturday night. She seems to be having a reaction to her rabies vaccine and also some other illness, perhaps a recurrence of Lyme Disease. At any rate, she's been an unhappy and not-so-energetic girl the past two days. She did run up a couple of trees yesterday (she leaps six feet up trees, then "runs" a couple of feet higher, before turning and gracefully dropping to the ground), but not nearly as high or as enthusiastically as usual.

This is Bounce, a small but mighty Sheltie. Bounce is an elegant lady of a dog who belongs to a friend of mine.

And here's Pip, a small powerhouse of a dog, who belongs to another friend of mine. Pip is a blast-- intense, funny, smart as a whip, and very, very focused.

I Love Painting!

2010-01-11T22:04:00.008-05:00

I had so much fun today! I'm still pretty much housebound (the cold air is hard on my lungs), so I have lots of time to paint, and today I could hardly tear myself from my easel. I love days like this when I become so excited about whatever I'm painting that I can't wait to get back to it when I stop to eat or to get chores done. Even when I don't have brush in hand, I'm painting in my mind, which is just as much fun.

I started out this morning with a really quick watercolor sketch of a Basset Hound. That was just a warm-up to get my mind flowing with color. Then I worked some more on the duck I started the other day. I think I've pretty much finished him now. I made an interesting discovery about the paper I was using, while working on the duck. It is some rough paper that our next-door neighbor had when I was a child. I don't know how long he'd had it at that point, but he was quite elderly, so I'm guessing for a while, which means this paper has been around for at least 40 years.

What I discovered is that I can lift all of the paints I was using off this paper, even some greens which are usually staining colors. At first it was a bit disconcerting to have the greens, which I was trying to paint over, come right off the paper, but it occurred to me that I could make good use of that characteristic.

I spent most of the day painting this Basset Hound, Gomez, who spent a couple of months with me last year. I really, really liked him and was sad to see him leave. I had the best time painting him today and remembering what a fun and sweet dog he was, once he got over the worst of his Separation Anxiety, which is why he was here. My goal in this painting, as with most of my dog paintings, was to capture the love and connection in his expression as he looked up at the person he was with (in this case me).

Process and Potential

2010-01-09T21:24:00.018-05:00

I used to look at a partially done painting and be discouraged; I didn't have the confidence to be patient with the process or the experience to see the as-yet-unrevealed beauty that was developing. I was often tempted to quit on a painting, sure that it was a failure. Now, however, I'm learning to look at the potential and step back to think about how I can bring out strong points and work on ameliorating weak areas. I can picture in my mind how a painting might turn out-- usually several possible options of how it might look, depending on which path I take.

Pondering that while painting this evening, I realized that that is what my own and other people's lives are like. Works in process, developing into who God has made us to be, as yet unfinished and sometimes discouraging if we look with a limited perspective. The good news for me, though, is that God is a Master Painter, and he is guiding the process and selecting the "paints" that color my life to bring out the potential and inner beauty he has built into me. I might not find certain stages attractive, but it is all part of the process of growing me into who I am meant to be.

Here is the painting I was enjoying doing this evening. One of many painting of Jade, the Mallard Duck who used to frequent our stream every spring for a week or so.

Early stages with only a hint of where it's going.

Starting to look more like a Mallard, but still has a long way to go.

This painting isn't finished yet; it needs to "rest" at this stage so the paint can dry thoroughly, otherwise what I do next would interfere with what is here. No visible change or effort going into it doesn't mean nothing is happening, though. The washes are setting a bit as they dry and I am pondering what to do next. It's all part of the process.

For the Birds

2010-01-05T19:03:00.007-05:00

Journal January 4, 2010
Originally uploaded by Melissa Fischer

I've been watching and sketching birds at my feeder and painting birds. I was fascinated to see a White-breasted Nuthatch carefully and thoroughly sunning himself.

I was sketching when I noticed a White-breasted Nuthatch lying motionless on the feeder. I thought perhaps he was sick (he didn't look injured) and sketched him while watching to see if he would move. After a few minutes he did, just to shift position so that he was tipped forward in an odd position, then he once again remained motionless for a few minutes. I began to wonder if he was sunning himself when he shifted again, this time to hang sideways, head downward, on the edge of the feeder. Again he remained motionless, obviously soaking up the sunshine.

For a warm up today I did a quick watercolor sketch of an Ostrich, using one of Arielle's photos from South Africa as a reference. I ended up liking my sketch and am sorry I painted it on such a tiny scrap of paper and right up to the edge. It was fun, though, and I'm sure I'll be painting more Ostriches in the coming days.

A while back I painted a gull in flight and I wanted to do the same bird again but with a stormy sky this time. She keeps flying forward, despite the stormy clouds around her.

And here is the Mallard I've been working on. This is from a photo Jonathan took of Jade, the Mallard drake who used to visit our stream every spring along with his mate, Agate.

Moving into a new year

2010-01-03T12:25:00.015-05:00

I've had some time alone this morning and have been thinking about the passing of one year and the start of another. I'm not into making New Year's resolutions, but I do like to look back at the past year with gratitude for what was good and to make peace with the hurts and disappointments. This helps me move into the New Year with the past being a springboard for living fully in the present.

A painting from 2009. This speaks to me of wisdom gained and lessons learned, even in darkness and through hurts; now it's time to learn from the past and leave it behind.

Another 2009 painting. I have so much to be thankful for; there was much joy sprinkled throughout the year.

A painting that I started yesterday, as yet unfinished, that moves me onward into 2010, eager to see what lies ahead and to keep my eyes on the goal.

The prayer guide I wrote for our church for this past week has helped me meditate on 2009 and look forward with anticipation to 2010.

“One thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3: 13-14

New Year’s resolutions rarely seem to result in lasting change, yet the start of a new year seems like an ideal time for evaluating and redirecting ourselves. We don’t have to be stuck in our pasts. We have a goal to strive for, which us gives purpose, direction, and motivation every day. This week let’s seek to come to peace with this past year so that we can leave it behind, and let’s realign our focus on Jesus so that we can follow him more faithfully. If we get our past in perspective and our goal clarified, our actions should fall in line more effectively.

Daily Prayer Suggestions

Monday: Take time today to reflect on the past year. Thank God for his love and many blessings. Entrust the disappointments, hurts, and concerns to his loving care. Ask for mercy where you have fallen short and gratefully accept his forgiveness. Joyfully thank him for the abilities he's given you and the ways he's worked through you.

Tuesday: Allow God to strengthen you and fill you with his peace as you continue to leave the past with him. He redeems our brokenness and brings good from it, and he strengthens us where we’re weak, if we allow him to.

Wednesday: In many ways we can’t know what lies ahead, but we do know that God is in charge and that our lives are in his hand. Reflect on what it means that God is sovereign, and entrust your hopes and dreams for this coming year to him.

Thursday: What is your goal in life? While we have many intermediate goals, God calls us to seek first his kingdom, to set our eyes on Jesus and live for his glory. Commit yourself to wholeheartedly seeking God and living for him.

Friday: Ask God to give you such a passion for him that you will eagerly strive to know him better and follow him in your daily life this year.

Saturday: There is a prize; God promises to bless us when we follow him. Rejoice in God’s goodness and his promises.

Rowan-- My Gentle Boy

2009-12-26T23:13:00.003-05:00

As I mentioned in my last post, Rowan often seems more human than dog. His gaze is both intense and soft at the same time and holds much wisdom.

Rowan knows me so well and can always seem to tell when something is amiss with me. He alerts me to when my blood sugar drops before I realize it; he'll sit nearby and snort at me to get my attention. If that doesn't work he'll bark at me until I respond.

I'm not always sure what Rowan is trying to tell me, but I ask him questions and he "answers" me in a way he's figured out to communicate with me. First I usually ask if he wants to go out. If yes, he perks up his ears and trots to the door. If no, he turns his head aside or crouches low. Then I ask if Petra wants to go out, since he'll often let me know (since she doesn't usually let me know and just crosses her legs). If yes, he perks his ears up and take a few steps toward the door, then stops when she runs past him. If no, he'll avert his head.

Next I ask if he needs water. If yes, he perks up his ears and trots to the dish. If no, he averts his head. Then I ask if I need to eat. If yes, he trots to the kitchen and lies down as soon as I start to get myself some food. He is such an awesome dog!

If I'm asleep when my blood sugar drops, he'll jump up and paw and sniff me to wake me up (normally I can't get him to jump up to put his paws on the bed). Sometimes I'm so sleepy I ignore him; at those times he gives me a minute, then comes back more strongly, insisting I get up. As soon as I get up and head for food, he curls up and goes back to sleep. Such a fabulous dog!

Even more than all of that, though, what I love about Rowan is how connected we are. He loves to be with me; I love to be with him. He doesn't ask for a lot of attention and he almost never pushes for affection when the other dogs are around, but I know I'm always in his awareness. All I have to do is quietly say, "Rowan, I need you," and he comes running. I love this dog so much!

Painting the bond

2009-12-23T11:33:00.010-05:00

I've been home for over a month now recovering from bronchitis (almost better now), and my dogs have been my constant companions, rarely leaving my side, following me from room to room, warming my lap, making me smile and laugh.

Milo dances gleefully, wags his tail wildly, and bobs his head with unmitigated joy. Petra slips up silently to gently rest her muzzle on my leg, then gazes up with such loving eyes she instantly melts me and any concerns on my mind. Rowan's been watching me, clearly concerned that I haven't been my normal healthy self, and I often look up to see him staring at me from across the room. I do wonder what's going through his mind; he often seems more human than dog.

While I've been enjoying my dogs so much, I've been painting dogs, both mine and others. In each painting I try to capture something of the essence of the bond that dog has with someone. The person might not be in the painting, but hopefully they are inferred by the look in the dog's eyes, by the happy doggy smile, or by the intense focus as the dog is obviously giving his or her attention to someone. Our dogs are in so many ways an integral part of our lives, and we are also an integral part of their lives. Each of us needs the other in the unique and special connection we have.

Musings and Doodlings While Sick with Swine Flu

2009-12-08T16:54:00.009-05:00

Well, this really is a nasty bug, and it has knocked me down for a spell. I'm on the mend now, though, and getting up for brief periods of mild activity in the house in between rest times on the couch. I've canceled nearly everything on my calendar and I'm focusing on getting a few things done that I can do quietly at home. I've also had lots of time to read, which is always a treat.

I'm taking an online artist journaling class, which has especially been a boon while I've been under the weather. The class is fun, inspiring, and freeing. Cathy Johnson, the instructor, is very encouraging and inspiring. She opens the door to possibility, something that is so important to art, and she's showing us how to use journaling to explore possibilities, ideas, and daily life. My journal is becoming a place to record memories, to explore ideas and thoughts, and to hone my skills, all without pressure. A pretty ideal companion for an artist, and one that makes what could otherwise be humdrum hours and days full of interest.

Here are some of the pages I've done in the past few days:

Despite being sick, I also got a bunch of paintings together for two exhibits that both opened last Saturday. One is at White Birch Fine Art Gallery in NH and is an exhibit of just ACEO's (Artist Cards, Editions and Originals. ACEO's are little paintings that are always 2.3 by 3.5 inches and can be any medium.

I painted some as ACEO's and others I cut from larger paintings. I loved doing these and hope to do many more. I've always tended to paint small, and it's thrilling for me to find there's a place for small art works. These are the ACEO's I sent in:

I also have two paintings and a pen & ink drawing in the Holiday Boutique at Duck Pond Gallery. I didn't think I'd be able to get them there, but a friend drove an hour each way to pick them up and deliver them for me. Thank you! I'm excited about exhibiting in this gallery because I'm also going to have my first solo exhibition there sometime in 2011.

It's very encouraging to me to have these paintings in exhibitions and has certainly lifted my spirits while I haven't been feeling well. It also gets me thinking and planning for more paintings that I want to do. One of the things I love about painting is the freedom to do what I want with it. I can dream and pursue my dreams. If they work out the way I like, that's great. If not, it's just paper.

A side benefit of this flu has been the ways I've been reminded of how many people really care about me. People have written encouraging notes, prayed for me, offered to help in many ways, called to cheer me up and make me laugh, brought me soup (delicious soup!), and generally been wonderful. Stephen has been great; driving me to the doctor, making tea, keeping a cheerful, crackling fire going in the fireplace, and so much more. I truly am blessed with wonderful friends and family.

I've had plenty of quiet time to reflect in the past two weeks, and I have to say, I love my life as a wife, mother, friend, dog trainer, writer, and artist. There is nothing I would rather be doing than living the life I now live.

"The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance." Psalm 16:6

Autumn Colors

2009-10-25T14:59:00.010-04:00

My eyes feast on the bright colors of Fall, and I like to get out and paint them as often as possible. In winter I often meander through my fall paintings, remembering the day and the feeling when I did each, bringing back the fresh outlook and exuberant energy of this season.

Jennifer and I went to Vermont a couple of weeks ago and painted the gorgeous colors in the mountains and the freshly snowed upon peaks. In fact, when we first set out to paint and sat down in a dirt road, the mountains were clothed in fall colors. Within minutes we watched snow start to fall on the more distant peaks, and as we painted, the snow line moved closer. Finally it snowed and then sleeted on us, at which point we gathered our paints and headed for a coffee shop for hot drinks and warm bowls of soup.

That afternoon, in the warmth of our room, I painted another version of the morning's view, using my morning painting as a reference.

In the evening I painted the view from our hotel room-- silhouetted trees and mountains and dark reflections in a small pond.

The next morning we headed out to paint again, and since the temperature was in the low 30's and it was windy, we painted from the relative warmth of the car.

We wrapped up our painting time by giving ourselves ten minutes to paint the same view.

Back in New York, I took Milo out tracking on a rainy Sunday afternoon, and while the track was aging, I painted the view across the parking lot from the car.

Most of the leaves are down now, but the maple by our stream still has its leaves, and in this afternoon's sun, the color is stunning. Steve and I set up lawn chairs outside, and he read to me and we chatted while I painted the tree. It reminded me a bit of the Fall of 1981 when we were first dating and spent delightful hours outside walking and enjoying the crisp air and colors of Ithaca. A bit of Autumn color and memory to nourish my soul in the winter months ahead.

Night Scenes

2009-09-27T14:48:00.005-04:00

There's something magical about being outside at night, and I often step out for a minute or two before I head to bed. One of the things I love about the shorter days of winter is walking in the dark, either in the morning or evening. I feel hidden, and since I walk without a flashlight, I can see without being seen if there are other people out and about.

I also love the night sky and could gaze for hours. Trees silhouetted against the brightness of the moon or the depth of a dark sky; moonlight casting strong shadows at times or bathing all in a soft glow at other times. Constellations telling a story for all to see.

When the moon is full I think about how people all around the world are stopping to look, ponder, and marvel. As I gaze, I'm filled with wonder at God's creation and I feel a connection with people who have paused to appreciate it throughout time.

Colorado!

2009-09-23T20:36:00.005-04:00

Last weekend I was in Colorado for a dog trainers' seminar--- a fabulous time of listening, watching, thinking, processing and networking. I can already see differences in how I handle client dogs and what kind of response I get from them. An excellent seminar!

Here are some of my "notes" from the demos:

Being in a group of people, no matter how nice they are and how fun the time, always wears me out, and painting is a wonderful stress reducer for me. In the evenings and after the seminar was over I spent time painting, sometimes in my room and sometimes outside looking at the gorgeous Rocky Mountains in the distance. I love the colors of Colorado and am eager to go back and spend more time absorbing the beauty and painting it as best I can to bring home memories in my sketchbook.

Plein Air Watercolors

2009-09-09T19:54:00.010-04:00

I've been doing plein air watercolor sketches recently; the weather is perfect for being outside, and I love to have a visual record of the sights and colors. Often, looking at my sketches takes me right back to the time I painted them, reminding me of dinner on the river with Stephen, or a pleasant stop along the Taconic Parkway, or a day painting by a pond with a friend.

Here are a couple of sketches of a pond in Goffstown, New Hampshire. A friend and I spent much of last Wednesday painting there, chatting with each other and with the boaters who came and went.

On my way home from New Hampshire, I stopped at a parking area on the Taconic Parkway where there's a view of the Catskills. It was a clear day and the mountains stood out wonderfully in the distance.

Stephen and I like to eat at Mariner's on the Hudson, where we sit on the dock and look out over the Hudson River. I paint the view or Steve tosses bread to the ducks, Canada Geese, and huge carp so that I can paint them. A couple of weeks ago we saw an eel there for the first time. It was about a foot long, and it kept swimming into the carps' mouths so that it's first four or five inches were all the way inside the carps' mouths. That was kind of weird to watch.

Lap Time

2009-09-06T13:59:00.008-04:00

Bituminous nestles in my lap, furry head in the crook of my elbow, his green eyes gazing unblinkingly at me for a minute or two, then closing in trusting sleep. I gaze back, trying to absorb a lifetime's worth of the joy and love I receive from Bituminous, and attempting not to dwell on his increasing age and poor health.

I don't really know how to describe what this cat does for me, but somehow he calms me deep inside, reminds me of some of the basics of my faith (trust lived out in practical, real-life actions), and fills me with a warm, happy feeling.

I try to read my book, normally gripping and hard to set aside, but when Bituminous opens his eyes every few minutes I have to put the book aside and look in my cat's eyes. He's deaf and doesn't understand much English; I'm human and don't speak Cat, but we both speak the language of connection, and whenever those eyes open, we engage in rich communion.

A Morning Track

2009-09-05T21:17:00.000-04:00

A Morning Track

Silvery-blue,

the field stretches on and on,

grass blades arcing gracefully

tipped by clear crystal drops.

A breeze brushes my face,

the sun warms my back,

bird song fills the air.

I pause, I breathe, I am…

I scan the distant trees,

searching for two points

to etch a line

in my mind and through the field.

Walking that line, I absorb

the rustling of rodents,

the silk of spider’s web,

the damp of dew.

I walk, I look, I enjoy…

Later, Milo leading,

we retrace my steps,

following the green path

through the dewy field.

Milo pauses, sniffs,

moves ahead with vigor,

excited to find the scent

and lead me along.

He stops, looks back,

a grin on his face,

a glove at his feet.

We have finished the track.

I smile, I laugh, I rejoice!

Sketchbook Fun

2009-08-22T16:16:00.005-04:00

I generally paint without doing any preliminary drawing or sketching on my watercolor paper, but I tend to do lots of doodling and sketching at other times, sometimes in a sketchbook, sometimes on whatever paper is at hand. This sketching helps me learn proportions, but even more, it gives me a feel for my subjects, so that I feel like I know them before I try painting them.

Here’s a page from my sketchbook from the last time Stephen and I ate out at our favorite restaurant, Mariner’s on the Hudson. Steve tosses bread in the water so that the ducks, geese, and fish come close for me to sketch or paint them.

Here are some sketches of a Rottie mix I did while chatting on the phone. I later did a watercolor of this dog. Sometimes I sketch with pencil, sometimes ball point pen and occasionally with Japanese ink brushes.

Lost Gosling Adoption

2009-08-12T12:20:00.018-04:00

I answered the door to see Emilio, one of the young neighbor boys, with his parents and two brothers close behind. Joe, the father, was carrying something wrapped in a jacket. Emilio excitedly blurted out that they had a baby goose that their cat had separated from his family.

Did I know what to do with it? I didn't really know, but I offered to take the gosling and see if I could find his family wandering around.

Unfortunately the family had disappeared, so I took the gosling to a pond where I thought there might be geese. Sure enough, there was a family of Canada Geese at Rockingham Pond with goslings the same size as our lost gosling.

I carried the gosling in a box toward the goose family, stopping when they started to walk away. Then I let the baby out. He took one look at the goose family in the distance and started toward them.

The family stopped walking away and turned to wait for the gosling to come to them.

The young goslings weren't so sure about the newcomer, but the parents seemed content to have him join their family.

The young'uns quickly accepted the newcomer, and he joined their ranks.

The family turned and left together.

The lost gosling had a new family.

England!

2009-05-11T20:55:00.035-04:00

Watercolour painting everyday

Training a shaggy Beardie

Daily walks in the gorgeous countryside

An adorable thatched cottage

Pub meals

Huge breakfasts

Delicious cheeses

Wonderful dinners

Stonehenge

Visiting with old friends and meeting new friends

Seeing the Mall Gallery's Royal Society of Portrait Painters Exhibition

Double-decker buses

Talking to all hours

Laughing at all hours

A magical, wonder-filled, inspiring visit

I can’t even begin to describe the wonder of this time in England. I had high hopes for this week, and it far exceeded my hopes and dreams.

Some of my greatest passions are dog training, art, teaching, and learning, and this week was built around and permeated with all of those. It was a new situation for me to be sharing talents as Jean and I did, with her teaching me her magical way of using watercolour and me training her and Bailey, who are both apt and quick students. Teaching and learning woven together throughout every day, as even our tea breaks were filled with discussion and discovery of the similarities in how we each approach our teaching, even using almost identical metaphors to explain and encourage the learning process.

Here is a sampling of my washes, experiments, and paintings as we progressed through the week, generally following a plan Jean had for helping me learn and grow and loosen up as an artist. Her plan worked, and I am thrilled every time I pick up a paintbrush and look at a white piece of paper.

Quail eggs—the first thing we painted together. I tried to splatter the eggs with a toothbrush and ended up splattering everything BUT the eggs.

Cowslip Washes—not attempting to paint the cowslips but rather just get the feel and color --painting flowers CAN be exciting!

Snowdrops—how to get the whiteness of the snowdrop along with the cold feeling of early spring

Resting Beardie

Happy Wash—a flow of colour to capture movement and light

Sheep

Duck

(reference photos-- Duck, Sheep, & Beardie by Jean Haines)

Trees

2009-04-13T19:58:00.017-04:00

"Can I watch?"

"I have paints too! You can use mine if you want."

Two young neighbors, Emilio and Lukas, joined me at the picnic table as I painted trees this afternoon. I declined their generous offer to use their psychedelic-colored paints, but we chatted about tree shapes and nature journaling while we painted.

Bare branches swayed gracefully in the light breeze, while the sun highlighted twigs and cast shadows on the trunk of the Horse Chestnut. The Black Locust was black and still, branches silhouetted darkly against the blue sky. It always has an eerie, gnarly look, unlike the inviting, life-filled branches of the Horse Chestnut.

I know there's something living in the Locust tree-- the dogs sniff around the base with great interest, but I suspect it's nocturnal, since I rarely even see a squirrel in it. Jonathan once discovered a flying squirrel nest in it, but that was years ago.

The Horse Chestnut is a highway and home to many bird species and squirrels. Right outside my studio window, it brings nature to my side with abundance and constant variety. Right now its buds are swelling larger by the day, preparing to burst into bloom in a couple of weeks.

Here's the squirrel who comes via the Horse Chestnut to my feeder. I did this quick sketch of him with my paper on the windowsill and the squirrel right on the other side of the glass, stopping often to watch me paint him.

As I rinsed my brushes, third-grade Emilio showed me the yellow pollen-laden stamens he had carefully painted on a flower and explained that he hadn't painted the ovary and ovules this time. First-grader Lukas smiled shyly but proudly as he showed me his brilliant tree with orange trunk and green crown. Then they headed home, calling over their shoulders that they would come back to paint with me again after school tomorrow. It was a good plein air painting session.

Sick Day

2009-04-02T17:17:00.002-04:00

I have a bad cold and a fever today and haven't been able to get motivated to do much of anything. I've done some dog training, a little reading, and some writing, but haven't felt like my brain is working at peak performance, or anywhere near peak. I spent much of the morning in my rocking chair with Silver purring in my lap-- delightful and soothing.

While sitting there sipping tea, I also sketched whoever stopped by the bird feeders, as well as Silver lying in my lap. Sketching calms me, focuses me, and helps me step more fully into the present moment. In addition, I end up with a record of what I saw on a given date, and I often refer back to previous years' entries to compare with the current season.

March Haiku

2009-03-31T22:09:00.008-04:00

My friend Sarah suggested we write March Haiku. I've always felt that writing poetry was beyond my grasp, something that only specially gifted people could do, but this seemed doable, and I've had fun trying to put my impressions into brief lines of syllables. Each haiku captures a moment in time during this past month. I smile inside as I reread my poems and am taken back to the look and feel and sound of when I wrote them.

What I really like is that this is one more example of how I'm feeling freed to try new things, not worrying that it's no good or that people will disapprove. I'm realizing that the process of learning to write is valid, just as I've found that the process of learning to paint is valid. And I suppose that's just like the fact that the process of growing up is also valid; not only valid, but necessary. One doesn't start life as an adult, and childhood is not inferior. Being a child is a important prerequisite to becoming an adult. And THAT gives me much to ponder...

March Haiku

moths flutter to light
swamps resound with frog love songs
life stirs and springs forth

chased by raucous jays
the red-tailed hawk builds a nest
preparing for young

squirrels flit and jump
from branch to branch overhead
chasing and playing

cat stalks mourning dove
crouching still, whiskers twitching
birds erupt skyward

leaf by leaf it dies
the pretty Christmas orchid
while native plants thrive

first red-wing of spring
alights on tall grass and sings
declaring it his

late flurries frolic
briefly airborne, reveling,
destined to melt soon

morning dew shimmers
bird chorus proclaims spring joy
March leaves like a lamb

By Myself but not Alone

2009-03-20T19:59:00.009-04:00

PJ’s warm head rests on my lap, as I idly scritch her scruffy chest. Petra lies at my feet, always alert, but quiet for now. Milo is curled into a compact ball on a soft bed, and Rowan sprawls on the smooth floor. Wyatt sleeps in a corner.

The only sounds are the rhythmic ticking of the kitchen clock and PJ’s soft breathing.

Even the noise in my head has quieted after a day by myself. This morning I was like a Jack-in-the-box, hopping up every minute or two to attend to a dog, make tea, get a snack, look for something in my room, clean the counter. The more I tried to sit still, the more I thought of things that “needed” doing.

Now, though, I am content to sit with my hand on PJ, simply savoring this moment with the dogs and myself for company. My mind feels awake and yet calm, able to follow a train of thought from beginning to end without getting waylaid by static. Surrounded by quiet, with no demands on my time, I've been able to quiet my frenetic inner activity. The animals’ gentle presence draws me toward connection rather than production, softening my heart and tuning my ears to my own soul and to God.
Rowan
PJ

Milo

Silver

2009-03-18T07:27:00.012-04:00

A small question nibbles at the edge of my mind. I turn my back on it and refocus on the book I’m reading. It pushes forward and gnaws more persistently. I swat at it and again force my attention to return to my book.

Suddenly my throat constricts, my breath feels tight and unsatisfying, my insides churn. The question has become a statement, bold and condemning, arising so quickly I didn’t have a chance to do battle. The attack comes in wave after wave, each higher, wider, and darker than its predecessor, and I shrink, confused and overwhelmed.

Then, a small, soft paw lands on my left shoulder. It is closely followed by three other paws and a loud purring aimed right into my ear. Silver—she has taken up her favorite perch, and I adjust my position to accommodate her moderate weight. Her relentless purring drives off the confusion and her velvet touch on my cheek causes me to smile and relaxes much of my muscle tension.

As I feel a soft nose nuzzling my ear, I realize it is March 2009. Those waves are in the past, and my life is now filled with love—from my pets, from the wonderful people in my life, and from God who has brought me to today.

Pussywillows and Snowdrops

2009-03-13T11:58:00.009-04:00

Yesterday morning was drab and drippy. And chilly, as I found out when I stepped outside without my jacket. Hugging my chamois shirt closer, I looked around the yard and across the stream. Sounds and colors alike were muted by dampness, and everything was grey... everything except for a cluster of small, pink-tinted white dots on the edge of the woods.

Pussywillows!!!! Their fuzzy shapes were just emerging from the rusty buds, and they stood out bright and fresh against the colorless backdrop.

The funny thing is, today, with the sun shining, I can barely distinguish the pussywillows from the sunlit woods behind them. Perhaps they are a special gift to brighten dull days.

Today, warmed by sunshine, the snowdrops have finally lengthened their white blossoms to greet the new year of growth. They're not wide open yet and there are no bright colors-- we have to wait for the crocuses for color-- but the small, white and green flowers are the first bulbs to herald the arrival of warmer weather. Snowdrops look delicate, but given that they push their way through barely thawed earth and brave bitter nights, they must be made of sterner stuff than the larger bulbs that bloom later, when the weather is more reliable. Simple beauty, quiet strength, harbingers of hope-- I like snowdrops.

Early Spring

2009-03-09T12:26:00.008-04:00

The light rain patters peacefully outside my open window. It’s chilly (43 degrees), but I have the window by my desk open so I can hear the gentle thrumming of the rain. A Crow caws in the distance, a Cardinal calls somewhere across the trickling stream, a Titmouse sings nearby, and there’s some sharp chirping in the shrubs that I can’t identify. Spring sounds, erasing the cold of winter and sparking the hope of warm days and abundant life to come.

Right outside my window the curved branches of the Horse Chestnut boast sienna-colored buds—they won’t bloom for two months, but they’re already swelling with the first sweet surge of spring. As I watch, a Titmouse pops into one of the holes in the trunk, rustles around, then flies out—I’m hoping she’ll nest there, then bring her fledglings to the feeder.
I wanted more snow, so I could get out on snowshoes again, but now that The Great Melt is happening, I’m looking ahead to shirt sleeves, warm earth, and spring flowers. I've moved from Cabin Fever to Spring Fever, and it’s time to get outside.

An Essential Ingredient

2009-03-01T12:45:00.010-05:00

Petra crouches, bunched muscles showing through her breeze-rippled fur. Milo bounces impatiently, unable to contain his excitement for even a moment, though he does land in a sitting position each time he hits the ground. Rowan leans forward, front feet dancing in place, glances at me, then fixes his gaze forward, through the gate. Each is awaiting the magic moment when he or she is released to rocket forward.

Petra first, with Milo baying behind her, shoots out the gate and up the hill. Rowan tears after them, short staccato barks bursting from his throat.

But then... silence....

Petra stops, looks back at the house, then jogs back to lie outside the gate, Jolly Ball in her mouth, staring at the door. Milo trots back and forth looking at the door, then wanders off to clean up deer leavings from the grass. Rowan stops mid-flight with one front paw up, staring at the door for a long minute, then sits by the gate and stares at the door. Neither Petra nor Rowan moves or even glances away.

Then, I open the door. Their heads ratchet up and their stares increase in intensity.

I step out, and suddenly they burst into motion, Petra streaking up the hill, Milo instantly abandoning deer droppings to fall in behind her, blazing her trail with happy baying, Rowan again taking up the rear, punctuating the air with his sharp barks.
This time I walk in the yard, and the dogs swoop up and down, around shrubs and trees, circling the house, always keeping me in sight, playing tirelessly for much of my walk.

I don’t understand why, but somehow I am an essential ingredient for their play, their joy, though only a spectator. As I walk I ponder, and I wonder if there are other areas of life in which I might be essential for someone’s joy, even if not directly involved.

Beauty and the Beetle

2009-02-27T22:21:00.008-05:00

The beetle glinted bright green in the sun as he crawled slowly along the boardwalk. Actually, tried to crawl. His dark, spindly legs wiggling antennae were moving futily. I picked him up and gently placed him on a leafy plant growing in the dune, but he just slid off. Realizing the beetle was near the end, I scooped him up and carried him, tickling my palm, the four miles home along the beach. By the time we got back to our beach house, the beetle's legs were still and stiffening, so I put him in an empty pill vial (after displaying him to the family) and brought him home.

That was four and a half years ago, and I finally had the urge to paint him last week. It's funny how sometimes I just have to wait until the right time to paint something. First I pulled out books and figured out that my little green friend was a Caterpillar Hunter Beetle, a beneficial species that lives up to three years.

"Calosoma scrutator is a highly beneficial species that climbs trees in search of caterpillar prey. Although the beetles are active from May to November, they seem to be especially numerous in May after trees are fully leaved out and while the spring flush of caterpillars is ravaging the foliage. Adults winter over, and they live up to 3 years. Eggs are placed one at a time in soil. Larvae also hunt caterpillars and climb trees and shrubs in search of prey. They pupate in earthen cells." http://entomology.uark.edu/museum/cathunt.html

I found a lichen-covered branch in the yard, set the beetle and branch up, and vanished into a world of color, depth, and detail. The beetle may have died years ago, but his green shell is just as brilliant today, and he gave me a day of pleasure and focus as I pondered and painted.

Maybe "just" a bug, but also a shining example of the abundant beauty God lavishes on his world for us to see and enjoy.

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. Genesis 1:31

Birds, Bituminous, and the Blues

2009-02-26T12:04:00.005-05:00

I've had a couple of those days when nothing seems quite right, when my mind settles quickly to the lowest level, my tea seems to always be lukewarm, and the clouds aren't up in the sky but right around my soul. Not a feeling I enjoy, but one I can't easily shake sometimes.

A little while ago I heard Bituminous meowing loudly and repeatedly, so I went to see what was wrong. Nothing appeared amiss, except that my rocking chair was empty, with him sitting beside it loudly demanding that I provide a warm seat for him. Of course I obliged (with my lukewarm cup of tea), and soon he was happily ensconced, nuzzling my hand and gently licking my wrist while he purred contentedly. Ahhh... the tension slowly melted away as I felt his soft, warm tongue and body.

As I sat with Bituminous, I watched the birds on the feeder and soon couldn't resist picking up my sketchbook and pen to try to capture some of the life and variety outside my window. At least thirteen species came and went, some chasing others, some co-existing politely.

One Pine Siskin tried to claim the pile of seeds for himself, but was soon frightened off by the Blue Jays. An sad looking male Downy Woodpecker without a tail stayed eating suet for over ten minutes at a time; I hope he gains the nourishment he needs to become healthy again. I made sure not to move while he was eating, so as not to scare him off. It looks as though we have two pairs of Downies and one of Red-bellied Woodpeckers. Hopefully they'll bring their chicks in the spring.

The clouds aren't gone, but they've lifted a bit. Observing, pondering, appreciating nature is a part of who I am and want to grow into more and more. Thank you, Bituminous, for insisting I sit and watch the birds with you.

A New Year

2009-01-01T10:58:00.009-05:00

The snow came down heavily yesterday, whitening the world and leaving everything pristine and new. I knew what was under the snow, but that’s not what I saw when I looked out my window. Instead I felt the hush of steady snowfall, I saw trees white on the windward side, saw an occasional bird landing silently on the window sill to look for a sunflower seed. Everything slowed around and in me and was at peace. A grace-filled end to the year.

This morning, January 1, 2009, has dawned bright and clear. The sun is shining, making the branches a sharp contrast of nearly black bark and white snow almost too bright to look at. I’ve been hearing the small thunks of Titmice and Juncos landing, quick whirrings of their wings as they take off, the scratching and sliding of a squirrel climbing down the gutter to the bird seed on the sill. Usually I chase him away, but this morning I’ll let him eat for a while. It’s cold out, and he looks thin. A male Red-bellied Woodpecker moves back and forth on an ash tree, searching for insects to warm his belly. A herd of deer slips through my field of vision leaving many sharp hoof tracks.

All is peaceful and alive, the animals and birds living fully in each moment, as the present melds into the future.

A new year for me, according to the Gregorian calendar. Somehow our January 1 seems to me to come at an odd time for starting a year. Why not rather the winter solstice or perhaps the vernal equinox? As the days start lengthening or the world is ripe with the promise of spring? However, according to our calendar, today is the day, and it seems like an auspicious start, with the bright sun and clear skies.

Looking ahead, I want to live more fully in the moment, aware of life and beauty around me, with a willingness, no, an eagerness, to ride the present into the future. I want to look back and know the truth, but see the wonder and purity of grace covering that which I don’t need to carry forward with me, and be thankful.

If I were a flower...

2008-10-12T20:35:00.019-04:00

I took a little quiz (click on the flower below to find it), and it said I am a daisy. Daisies have always been one of my favorite flowers and, along with day lilies, were the flowers for my wedding. I love their simple beauty and the way they blow freely in the breeze.

I am a
Daisy

What Flower
Are You?

A good friend recently asked me to paint a card for her mother's 90th birthday. Her mother's name is Bea, but she goes by Bee, as I sometimes do, so I was thrilled to paint a couple of daisy and bee cards for her. These are a combination of watercolor and ink.

An online friend posted a tutorial on using negative painting to get a strong background before even starting to paint the flowers. I really liked this simple group of Cosmos (from another friend's photo), so painted it using this technique.

I love Arches National Park in Utah! The stark, red landscape, the bluish sagebrush, the dwarf pines--- it all speaks to my heart in some wordless and thirst-quenching way. I wouldn't want to live there, but I think I could spend weeks hiking, exploring, painting, and just quietly enjoying the scenery.

Back here in New York, the voices of the Katydids on August nights are one of my faavorite sounds. I painted the Katydid from a photo of mine a few days ago, but I wrote this poem while listening to the Katydids one warm August night.

Sounds of the Night

"What is that awful noise?"
asked a friend one night.

I heard no awful noise,
only the voices of friends,
the sounds of the summer night

They were for me a joyful sound
but to her a frightening cacophony

Known, loved, they speak to me
of joy in the moment
the wonder of life
exuberance in song

Sadly, some miss the sweetness-
all they hear is noise,
fear in the dark,
and shut windows tight to keep it out

The sounds of the night
speak to me of another voice
that tells of life and joy,
but is feared or shut out by many.

But now it's October and the Katydids are gone until next summer. In their place we have glorious fall colors and scents and sounds to fill our senses. Steve and I walked in our woods this evening and sat on the bridge over the wide part of the stream. The trees are red, orange, yellow and green, and the sunset was a fiery red where we could see it through the silhouetted trees.

I painted this en plein air, sitting in the warm afternoon sun with my dogs frisking about me with their delightful cool weather exuberance.

New Lebanon, NY

2008-10-01T11:03:00.005-04:00

Last week I spent two peaceful days visiting a friend at her country home in New Lebanon. We sat on the deck eating Cheddar cheese and apple slices, while I painted this scene of the distant mountains.

When I went to bed I heard the loudest pack of coyotes I've ever heard. I have no idea how many there were, but they must have been in the trees right across the driveway from my window. I love hearing coyotes, and I drifted off to sleep enjoying them and the other sounds of the night.

We started the next day soaking in a bubbling hot tub by the deck and watching the morning sun bring the hills and trees to life. The air was crystal clear and nippy, especially when we got out of the water. A great way to wake up and loosen up!

We spent the day hiking, reading, and eating, then I headed home as the evening light slanted beautifully across the yard, casting an orange glow over grass and trees, as well as over the mountains. A restful two day interlude from the challenging time the past month has been.

Wildlife

2008-09-17T21:44:00.008-04:00

In addition to birds, I also love to paint wild mammals and am very grateful for friends who share their photos and give me permission to use them as references. Being given a photo to use as a reference is like being offered candy-- I can hardly wait to dive in and start painting it.

I crawled on my belly through the tall grass in my yard to get the photo I used as a reference for this White-tailed Deer fawn. I ended up with scratches and grass stains but a triumphant feeling, as I got to about 12 feet from the fawn-- close enough to see every little flicker of his eye and nostril.

I did this giraffe using a photo by Debbie Schiff, who recently took an exciting trip through the bush in South Africa. The bird on the giraffe's neck is a Red-billed Oxpecker, which pecks ticks off the large mammals in Africa, but also apparently does a significant amount of damage to the animals by pecking at their flesh to get fresh blood.

Yesterday I was feeling down and decided to paint an elephant, since I find them easy and relaxing to paint. Somehow the painting ended up reflecting my mood by emerging as a dejected, sad-looking elephant. The reference for this painting is a photo by Stephie Haddon.

Today I was feeling more cheerful, and I painted this Nyala calf from another photo by Debbie Schiff. I was trying to paint more loosely, except for a couple of areas I wanted to emphasize with detailed work.

Some Recent Bird Paintings

2008-09-13T19:16:00.008-04:00

Birds are one of my favorite subjects to paint. So delicate, so alert, and so varied, they capture my attention all the time. I love to watch them, listen to them, and paint them.

I painted this Chickadee from a photo I took at my feeder. The mosquito is adapted from a photo I snapped of a Crane Fly on my mirror.
This Great Blue Heron was inspired by a photo Carolo Hickey took of a Heron taking off from a pond. I was enjoying the feeling of anticipation and hope that I feel early in the morning, so decided to try and paint what I was feeling. A local poet is considering using this painting on the cover of her new book!

Arielle photographed this Raven in Bryce Canyon National Park. I was experimenting with color here, not trying to get an exact representation of the bird but rather a sense of strength and pride.

This is another visitor to my feeder. This perky little fellow is looking up at me with a seed in his mouth, as if to say, "Thank you!" Chickadees are my favorite birds, and I've even had them hop on my hand to eat seeds I'm holding.

Birds, Birds, and More Birds

2008-09-13T15:00:00.018-04:00

Blue Jays, Mourning Doves, Black-capped Chickadees, White-breasted Nuthatches, Downy Woodpeckers, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Cardinals, Titmice, Robins, Song Sparrow, House Finches, Yellow-shafted Flicker... I've seen and heard all these outside my kitchen window in the past five minutes. A constant coming and going and flurry of activity, both at the feeder and on the lawn. It's peaceful for me to sit and watch the birds, but there is no end of the activity for the birds.

About twenty or thirty young Robins with speckled breast have congregated in the yard, fluttering around and catching worms in the rain-softened earth. I haven't seen many Robins for a while, so I'm wondering why so many have gathered all of a sudden.

I've seen several young birds begging for food from a parent. The young bird squats low in front of the adult and flutters its wings out to the side while it cheeps pitifully. Sometimes the adult ignores it; sometimes it feeds the youngster something just picked up from the feeder they're both sitting on.

These pages from my sketchbook are from several days this year. I keep it by my rocking chair for sketching the birds at the feeder when I sit with Bituminous on my lap. Most sketches were done in a few seconds, as the birds rarely cooperate by posing for me.

I often refer to my sketches when I do watercolors or pen and ink drawings, and even when I don't use them for that, sketching the birds gives me more of a feel for them. I've watched and sketched these birds so often that I now recognize some of the individuals that come to the feeder and know which birds are bossier and which more submissive, which stay and stock up with many seeds and which grab one and leave hurriedly. I love observing not only their appearance but also their behavior. Even though birds of a species look so similar at first glance, I'm finding that they're all individuals, each unique and interesting.

Thunderstorms

2008-09-09T09:08:00.003-04:00

It's 9 AM and the sky is dark and heavy. It feels more like dusk than morning. There's a nearly constant rumble of distant thunder and then the occasional CRACK and BOOM from nearby lightning.

I love this kind of weather. I've opened the windows so I can hear the gentle patter of rain that contrasts in mood with the loud irruptions of thunder.

Oddly, I feel both energized and calmed by the storm. All my senses are awake and enjoying the show, but I'm also content to sit still watching and listening. Bituminous is purring and kneading on my lap, Rowan and Petra are lying with heads up and alert on either side of me. Milo is nervous, but less than he used to be. We've had so many thunderstorms this summer that he seems to be getting used to them. Silver is wandering around, sniffing each of the dogs and standing up to sniff Bituminous. She seems oblivious to the storm.

I love the power and extremes in nature. The depths of the ocean fascinate me. Thinking of the far reaches of the universe awes me and makes me feel incredibly small but full of wonder. I love the smooth, hard rock of the trails at Minnewaska and the soft, moist moss that blankets the Adirondacks. Sunrise and sunset on the shortest day and the longest day. The baking heat at the height of summer (very briefly please) and the crackly cold of the dead of winter. It’s all special and delightful, each in its own way.