Beauty and the Beetle

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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.