Cachepot

Something waits beneath it

2012-01-20T11:10:00.000-06:00

"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure in the landscape...the loneliness of it...Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show"

American painter Andrew Wyeth

and, beneath it all, we have had to say goodbye to our beloved Mimi,

she passed away a week ago today at 14 years old.

Rest in peace lovely girl. XO

The Offering

2012-01-16T14:55:00.001-06:00

A woman happily feeding her cats. pen and ink drawing

detail from 'The Offering'

Quiet Beauty

2012-01-12T13:59:00.000-06:00

In the Barn pencil drawing

A woman, a moment, and sacred love.

A tribute to winter white

2012-01-01T13:02:00.000-06:00

With the absence of snow, my world is anything but white this year. I had hoped for wavy drifts of snow over the steps, piling up an inch or two over the front door. A pale expanse of shimmering lawn under moonlight would have been lovely. I would have settled for a dusting, a light powdering among the trees, outlining their branches. I do so love this!... Not to be.

However.....I do know how to make do. To enhance the wintery mood, here is an exerpt from nature writer John Burroughs essay- The Snow Walkers, which I have illustrated by using scenes of white found about the house.

Look up at the miracle of the falling snow,—the air a dizzy maze of whirling, eddying flakes, noiselessly transforming the world, the exquisite crystals dropping in ditch and gutter, and disguising in the same suit of spotless livery all objects upon which they fall. How novel and fine the first drifts! The old, dilapidated fence is suddenly set off with the most fantastic ruffles, scalloped and fluted after an unheard-of fashion! Looking down a long line of decrepit stone wall, in the trimming of which the wind had fairly run riot,

I saw, as for the first time, what a severe yet master artist old Winter is. Ah, a severe artist! How stern the woods look, dark and cold and as rigid against the horizon as iron!Presently a fox barks away up next the mountain, and I imagine I can almost see him sitting there, in his furs, upon the illuminated surface, and looking down in my direction.

As I listen, one answers him from behind the woods in the valley. What a wild winter sound, wild and weird up among the ghostly hills!

Since the wolf has ceased to howl upon these mountains, and the panther to scream, there is nothing to be compared with it. So wild! I get up in the middle of the night to hear it. It is refreshing to the ear, and one delights to know that such wild creatures are among us.

At this season Nature makes the most of every throb of life that can withstand her severity. How heartily she indorses this fox! In what bold relief stand out the lives of all walkers of the snow! The snow is a great tell-tale, and blabs as effectually as it obliterates. I go into the woods, and know all that has happened. I cross the fields, and if only a mouse has visited his neighbor, the fact is chronicled.

In winter the stars seem to have rekindled their fires, the moon achieves a fuller triumph, and the heavens wear a look of a more exalted simplicity. Summer is more wooing and seductive, more versatile and human, appeals to the affections and the sentiments, and fosters inquiry and the art impulse. Winter is of a more heroic cast, and addresses the intellect. The severe studies and disciplines come easier in winter. One imposes larger tasks upon himself, and is less tolerant of his own weaknesses.

All life and action upon the snow have an added emphasis and significance. Every expression is underscored. Summer has few finer pictures than this winter one of the farmer foddering his cattle from a stack upon the clean snow,—the movement, the sharply defined figures, the great green flakes of hay, the long file of patient cows, the advance just arriving and pressing eagerly for the choicest morsels,—and the bounty and providence it suggests.

Or the chopper in the woods,—the prostrate tree, the white new chips scattered about, his easy triumph over the cold, his coat hanging to a limb, and the clear, sharp ring of his axe. The woods are rigid and tense, keyed up by the frost, and resound like a stringed instrument.

Or the road-breakers, sallying forth with oxen and sleds in the still, white world, the day after the storm, to restore the lost track and demolish the beleaguering drifts.

2011-12-21T09:55:00.001-06:00

Emma watches very intently out the window.

She doesn't seem to hear me when I call to her...

It is as if she is under some kind of spell.

It is the spell of the Crow.

Look how close they are Emma!!

So sturdy and black, not a feather out of place.

These crows are eating dry kibble set out for them. Soon they will set off
to roost in trees for the night. This one shows the posture a crow takes
just before lifting up into flight.

While the crow is fast asleep, other birds are awake and

embrace the night skies.

The mysterious Nightjar.

Seldom seen, they blend in with their surroundings and

are motionless on the forest floor. From dusk till dawn they fly though

the air at night, scooping up moths and other insects into their wide

gaping mouths. What a spectacle they must be...swiftly soaring mouths

in the dark sky, followed by large shiny eyes!

I've been working on this watercolor painting here and there as time allows.
I enjoy working on pieces that require more time and dedication in between
freer, more spontaneous drawings of pen and ink.

Like the nightjar, this kind of painting require stillness, and patience.

2011-12-14T22:54:00.000-06:00

Mid December

2011-12-05T09:44:00.006-06:00

Drawings from the weekend

After drawing several faces, hands, and then

later, some sheep, I put them all together and they tell a story.

One of doubt, fear and love.

Here are all the drawings. Thanks for prompting this Susan.

Emma

2011-12-02T09:56:00.000-06:00

A reader of this blog recently asked about my cat Emma.

She is happy and is doing well.

For all who love cats, here is a part

of Emma's day.

2011-11-29T10:17:00.000-06:00

From One Another

A recent drawing depicting the current events in my life.

There are three figures here, each telling their story, which adds to

my story, and now to yours.

2011-11-26T08:21:00.003-06:00

Existence and Mystery

Originally started in charcoal this drawing

was finished in pencil and just a bit of color was added.

The elements in the drawing came sometimes quickly,

sometimes slowly as these things happen in the psyche.

Sense and order are not always, and some would say

never a part of existence, yet at the same time

it is all perfect just as it is.

This drawing honors all that is mysterious and
cannot be explained.

2011-11-17T08:40:00.000-06:00

Adding color can make a drawing speak a little louder.

Sometimes line drawings say all there is to say when left simple,

and honest.

2011-11-10T15:38:00.000-06:00

Exploring the Inner World
and the Evolution of a Drawing. Day 2

2011-11-09T11:09:00.001-06:00

Exploring the Inner World

Last night a small girl came to visit me.

She brought with her a small light bird.

She positioned herself inside of a window
and on a table lay an enormous fish.

Later the next morning...

we discover more about each other.

to be continued.

2011-11-07T10:28:00.000-06:00

Embracing the Seasons

Each season has something to delight in...

overhead a choir singing hymns,

and at my feet...

a small bouquet of angels wings

absolutely wondrous, this world of ours.

2011-10-24T13:15:00.000-05:00

Grateful abundance

2011-10-17T11:17:00.000-05:00

Gifts

2011-10-11T10:00:00.000-05:00

Cold weather, dreams, and flying deer.

The days are getting shorter and there are things to do to prepare
for the cold days ahead, and

the long nights to come,
of winds of sleeting rain that threaten to come inside
lest the windows are shut tight.

A chill in the air brings the gathering
of fuel,

and lingering days of soaking up
the sun,

and for dreams,...

of flying deer .

2011-10-03T14:32:00.001-05:00

Drawings inspired by

The Canticle of St. John of the Cross.

A joint project.

Artists, Barbara Beeckmans from Belgium and Dori Stuffer

from Germany and myself are undertaking the readings of medieval mystic,

Juan de Yepes y Alvarez and are finding that

the creative process is a mystery in and of itself.

Stanza 20.
Swift-winged birds,
lions, stags, and leaping roes,
mountains, lowlands, and river banks,
waters, winds, and ardors,
watching fears of night:

These are drawings that flow from deep within,
out through the
arm, and deposited on paper.

Here I have selected to show the "swift winged birds" of the imagination
and a quiet bird being held much like what is held in the
mind during moments of stillness and quietude.
The fish represents water.
Water representing sorrow of the soul.

I dedicate this post to the mystery in Art that come from still and quiet places.

The quiet and sorrowful beauty of Harvest Moon painted by George Inness.

2011-09-26T21:59:00.004-05:00

My world this weekend.

Contemplating Beauty

2011-09-15T08:39:00.000-05:00

September,

could you be any more beautiful?

2011-09-13T09:29:00.000-05:00

Sitting with the moon.

2011-09-08T08:50:00.000-05:00

The Invocation

2011-09-06T14:57:00.003-05:00

2011-08-30T12:59:00.001-05:00

To see

the wonder

of life, is to be alive.

2011-08-26T10:26:00.000-05:00

As August closes its golden eyes,

I will remember the light

and warmth of the sun,

and of the never ending circle of love.

2011-08-22T11:02:00.000-05:00

The continued drawings inspired by The Spiritual Canticle of St John of the Cross

Verse 18.

You girls of Judea,
while among flowers and roses
the amber spreads its perfume,
stay away, there on the outskirts:
do not so much as seek to touch our thresholds.

Here, in my interpretation of this verse I see the soul
being conflicted at times between the world of the spiritual,
shown here as the natural world,
and the material world, shiny towns that
sparkle with untruths disguised as nirvana.

In this drawing, the river separates the two conflicting sides.
The river representing the constant flowing of thoughts and ideas.

2011-08-16T10:40:00.000-05:00

She is here

At less than six pounds,

a diminutive angel,

you cause many to shed tears of joy

and bring people together

to heal.

The colors are all golden now
and full of light

May you take delight in the

natural world,

and let not one thing go unnoticed.

Sweet Thing The music of Van Morrison

2011-08-09T22:03:00.000-05:00

Immersing myself in August.

Goldenrods and Cicadas,

high humidity,
a welcome breeze,

A hermit thrush's evening song,

Yellow Swallowtail butterflies,
Queen Anne's Lace,
footprints, feathers and fawns.

2011-08-02T13:30:00.000-05:00

EMMA

Pale blue eye
that sees the unseen,
Golden eye that
sees all.

2011-07-29T15:02:00.000-05:00

As July comes to a close, cleansing rains come.

2011-07-22T08:25:00.000-05:00

Extremely hot weather and nature.

95-100 degree temperatures have been in

our area for much of the week. Some days there is no breeze.

Only stillness and intense heat.

One can only go outside for short intervals.

The Cup Plant demonstrates how perfectly

nature is designed to sustain living things.

Its leaves are unique in that they encircle the stem like
a cup to hold water. Some of the water it absorbs for itself,

but most of the water is held for pollinators to pollinate its flowers

Here, insects and small birds can drink.

Its flowers are only on the ends

of the stem.
Like a beacon showing the way for food and drink.

Here is the start of a new monochrome painting
showing human, plant and animal together.

That we remember that we are part of each other is what I want to

say in this painting.

An offering of a small dish of water to help
during this very hot and dry time.

When a gift is left mindfully,

we all benefit.

2011-07-21T14:17:00.000-05:00

Emma is uncomfortable when people come to the house.

Recently a repairman came and...

she gets a very worried look on her face,

and becomes extremely alert!

Stop talking, I want to listen!

Who is there?!!

What I find even more amusing is when I'm laughing at her behavior

she never lets on that I'm laughing at her.

She still keeps her silly worried look.

2011-07-20T12:44:00.000-05:00

Misha

Sleeping Dog Drawing

2011-07-19T12:07:00.000-05:00

The garden in July

bell peppers

kale

roma tomatoes

roman chamomile

horseradish

sage blossoms

Metamorphosis.

2011-07-09T10:51:00.000-05:00

It's as if I've been cast under a spell..,

a midsummer night's dream....

there is now an intermingling,

an overlapping,

between this world
and the other,

When I read that
"The Canticle cannot be explained
It can only be experienced"
I begin to understand.

Small glimpses of perfection,

messages of perfect love,

Incredible that this would happen

to someone like me,

hardly a deserving sort.

catch us the foxes

for our vineyard is now in flower,

while we fashion a cone of roses

intricate as the pines;

and let no one appear on the hill

Translation and commentary on Verse16 of The Canticle

These moments of understanding do not want to be interrupted,
they want to be held onto and not be intruded upon by such things as doubt.

I return to the waters edge again and again.
Such clarity is at hand.

Metamorphosis-to transform,
to come into ones creative power.
The frog is born into water and through out its life remains close to its source,
always in the element that it was created in.

2011-07-05T15:47:00.000-05:00

Glorious summer and a new painting inspired by
the Mystical Writings of St John of the Cross.

Wild black raspberries

the exquisite smell of milkweed,

The pale purple of thistle

Detail (above) and full view
of painting inspired by the 13 verse
of the Spiritual Canticle.

2011-06-28T10:16:00.018-05:00

Drawing inspired by,

Stanza 12 of The Spiritual Canticle of St. John of the Cross.

A joint project of three artists.(see June18 post).

Wrens, bees, flowers and June

2011-06-27T11:02:00.000-05:00

While watching the growing,

the mid summer is tipping over

lush pockets of color

activity at a bird house

four little wrens

the instinct to care and to nurture

bees gather nectar,

bending the crown vetch and

lift her perfume to the sun filled sky

sharp shadows, cast

by the overhead sun

Glorious mid summer!

Glorious June!

2011-06-23T09:49:00.001-05:00

I came across this poem from gifted poet Mary Oliver,
and was inspired to create a quick sketch.

Five A.M. in the Pinewoods

I'd seen
their hoofprints in the deep
needles and knew
they ended the long night

under the pines, walking
like two mute
and beautiful women toward
the deeper woods, so I

got up in the dark and
went there. They came
slowly down the hill
and looked at me sitting under

the blue trees, shyly
they stepped
closer and stared
from under their thick lashes and even

nibbled some damp
tassels of weeds. This
is not a poem about a dream,
though it could be.

This is a poem about the world
that is ours, or could be.
Finally
one of them — I swear it! —

would have come to my arms.
But the other
stamped sharp hoof in the
pine needles like

the tap of sanity,
and they went off together through
the trees. When I woke
I was alone,

I was thinking:
so this is how you swim inward,
so this is how you flow outward,
so this is how you pray.

~ Mary Oliver ~

2011-06-17T16:32:00.001-05:00

'To Kill a Mockingbird'

Mary Badham and Gregory Peck in this 1962 Leo Fuchs photo photo from "To Kill a Mockingbird".

"This night my mind was filled with Halloween -- there was to be a pageant representing our county's agricultural products; I was to be a ham. Jem said he would escort me to the school auditorium. Thus began our longest journey together."

This drawing represents one of my favorite scenes from the Harper Lee Book,

To Kill a Mockingbird. Published in 1960 This widely received book was made into a film with the same title in 1962.

To me, the scene is somewhat surreal. The drawing shows a ham walking through a shadowy woods and is the beginning of the unforgettable ending.

I have seen this wonderful movie many times and the image represented in the above drawing has always stayed with me.

I highly recommend this movie if you haven't already seen it and the book would be a wonderful addition to your summer reading list.

2011-06-16T14:27:00.000-05:00

While drawing in my sketchbook yesterday,

strange shapes took form.

A memorable scene from a cherished movie.

Can you guess?

St. John of the Cross speaks to my heart

2011-06-11T10:30:00.001-05:00

Continuing interpretations of the Canticle- St. John of the Cross

through drawings.

Stanza 9

2011-06-09T08:18:00.000-05:00

Just beyond the trees

at the edge of town is a watery world that

I like to visit, and on a

sunny day in early June, I went there.

I sit at the waters edge and am soon rewarded.

There, do you see?

You hang suspended with your golden eye

and I hold my breath

and am suspended with you...
motionless

this moment.

this waters edge.

The air is humid and a breeze stirs the
Cattails now and then while Cottonwood seeds drift
slowly by..

Wet smell of pond reflecting light
I enter your world.

2011-06-02T13:57:00.000-05:00

2011-05-31T13:25:00.000-05:00

Idleness, May flowers, and new paintings

Acrylic paint and colored ink

2011-05-26T15:45:00.000-05:00

Untitled

2011-05-21T13:48:00.001-05:00

Sketches from Readings.

Where have you hidden,
Beloved, and left me moaning?
You fled like the stag
after wounding me;
I went out calling you, but you were gone.

Shepherds, you who go
up through the sheepfolds to the hill,
if by chance you see
him I love most,
tell him I am sick, I suffer, and I die.

from The Spiritual Canticle St. John of The Cross

2011-05-18T18:27:00.000-05:00

Where sheep go to dream.

Last night I had a dream of a sheep... or maybe I dreamed a
sheep having a dream... I see images of sheep during this spring
of 2011, a precious spring that only occurs now.

If you look for me,
you will find me everywhere.

2011-05-17T07:54:00.000-05:00

Inspired by the last post,

Emma's"rescue" illustrated with a drawing.

2011-05-14T20:58:00.001-05:00

The tale of the cat who fell from the sky.

Once while I was walking through a small woods about five years ago this very month, I heard a sound not usual for these surroundings. No, it was not a bird, yet somehow I knew this sound. Stopping to hold my breath so as to listen better, I heard it again. The distinct sound of a kitten in distress!

High, high in the trees she was.

I looked and looked until finally I saw her face, tiny and white . I was positioned at the far end of the limb she was on and she was headed right toward me.

She stepped quickly to the supple end of the branch bending it almost in half and down she fell. Down, down she crashed through leafy boughs and branches grasping at all till she caught on something that would hold her.

I watched in astonishment as she collected herself and began to look my way again mewing loudly as I crept through the underbrush to get closer to the trunk of the tree. She then followed me and was able to make her way down toward my reaching hands. I quickly pulled her from the tree and held her as she panted wide eyed. She was clearly a kitten who was lured through her own curious nature and perhaps somehow lost her way.

I took her home and she became Emma, queen of the household, ruler of her domain, feisty little spitfire, semi feral one.

....and this is how she came to have eyes of a different color.

One, the color of the sky, and one the color of the earth.

2011-05-05T09:10:00.000-05:00

Some technique and and learning to
appreciate a moment.

At this stage of the painting I like to sometimes just ponder

what is there and see which direction I'd like to take next.

I see a figure emerging over her shoulder next to the tree.

Do you see this?

The crayons give an effect similar to pastels.

The water soluble crayons lay on top of the painting like pastels would,

can be blended with water, and can also be lifted off/removed with

a brush and water.

I will continue the painting tomorrow. Today the sun is shining

and the air is warm.

We sit outside, I in my chair,

Misha and Mimi near by,

I see this tree from where I sit and can notice how

quickly it has filled up with leaves. Soon it will be dense, providing
shelter for birds and squirrels. Later in the season cicadas will take
their places high in the canopy looking for mates.
I hear a bumble bee's buzz turn to a lazy drone as he flies by and
searches for nourishment after a long winter in hibernation.
I'm aware of the sound of dog tags as Misha settles down for a nap,
happy to be near me.

I close my eyes and feel the warmth of the sun
and appreciate that at this moment

there is no where that I would rather be than right here.

2011-05-02T11:32:00.005-05:00

As May once again unfolds her arms and generously

gives us her gifts of beauty and wonder, and as we celebrate and receive her,

other events are making their mark during this time of the budding of the trees

and I am moved to ponder something else..

Bloodshed is never a time for celebration but is a time of self examination

and reflection.

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. [unknown].

"Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that" -- MLK, Jr.

re blogged from Jade Page Press

2011-04-30T16:41:00.000-05:00

April in her magnificence.

Once the rain had stopped,

and the sun came out,

there were lovely things to look at,

the beautiful but short lived Blue Bells,

the unfurling of ferns,

Icelandic Poppies,

tiny jewel like buds of the viburnum,

and smiling Misha.

The April rain also produced some new works in progress.

A renewal of sorts is in the air and the cycle continues its ancient rhythms.

2011-04-22T11:01:00.000-05:00

New drawing and scenes from the garden.

She's glad I'm here

Under a waning moon sits a girl and her cat.

The return home to loved ones and loved pets is often rewarded with

scenes like this.This drawing was inspired by my recent return home

after a short trip. It is not known which one is more glad that the

other is here.

Scenes from the garden

I'm pleased to see that the single milk weed planted last summer

is sending up numerous little shoots which means more butterflies!

Here is a picture of last years caterpillar, note in the first picture

the dried branch in the center was one plant.

The beautiful remains of the old milk weed plant.

Forsythia

Sedum

Rhubarb

Poppies

Virginia Blue bells

2011-04-19T09:28:00.001-05:00

Back from my travels

On a recent trip to Michigan I stopped at Indiana Dunes State Park.

Home of Diana of the Dunes whom I did not see,

however I did see...

Dori of Forsythia lighting up the beach.

The wind and the sound of the surf so strong and loud

until,

behind the dunes, everything is quiet and calm.

and I sit and rest I think about the trip ahead,

a snake has made smile tracks

in the sand.

A stop in Ann Arbor Michigan

Lamb of God

Museum of Art

Carved limestone by unknown artist

mid century France

Kelsey Museum of Archaeology

Vitosha Guest Haus

Driving into town one morning I passed the most beautiful Guest House

I popped in to inquire for my next trip in the fall.

I was graciously shown around the premises by the proprietress

and her lovely Rottweiler-Mastiff cross.

Absolutely stunning property!!!

A little further east and I arrive.
The best part of all.

My final destination, the reason for this trip.

A visit with my son and his lovely wife.

New life

A tiny newborn will greet the world in late summer.

May this family be blessed with all they hold dear .xo

2011-04-12T08:31:00.000-05:00

Two works in progress

and while this work goes on..

there is snoring

and grooming sounds by
my companions.

2011-04-04T14:00:00.000-05:00

A small piece of the creative process at work and the evolution of a little story.

After the first post, an encouraging comment left by a dear reader( thanks Barb!)
suggested that I continue and turn the post into a little story. At first I wasn't sure how, but after reviewing the body of work produced in the last four or five months it started to occur to me what was happening and it became easier to finish the story.

Sometimes stories are illustrated with works created specifically for the story.
This is the way I would normally go about this,
but this time,
the images created the story.

With the exception of the image in the first post, none of the others were
specifically created for the story, they were all chosen from previous work.

The images of the women with bird in the heart, shown here, are newer works and were created in the past 3 weeks. Although only four are shown, there are total of six .

Our connection to our true nature is inside all of us.

Although the three part story was fun to put together it would not have been nearly as much fun had it not been for the interest shown by all who commented. Thank you!

From a walk this weekend.

all sorts of wild things..

And when I got home...

A visitor comes calling
Out of the corner of my eye,
movement of a bulky sort got my attention,

A stately girl, quietly going about her business,

came through the neighborhood parading her
wildness through the domestic landscape.

2011-04-01T14:31:00.004-05:00

Part III

When the lights flickered
out
and the moon rose high,

the shadows grew long,

and the
haunting flute song

the last hermit thrush
was heard,

It was then that

I knew,

it was then that I realized
that was once ,

I and the bird

had merged..somehow,

until

I was the bird
and,

the bird became me.

Sounds are accredited to nature sounds and Bird songs .

Images and photos are property of Ramona Felse. Some images are available

in my etsy shop click here to see which ones.

2011-03-29T19:56:00.005-05:00

Part II

A figure in the window,

made me move closer,

somehow,
I felt as if I were
looking at myself,

The wind stirred
the dried leaves,

sending them swirling
all around

turning them into
tiny bright lights....

2011-03-25T09:37:00.001-05:00

Part I

Last night I made a pencil drawing.

I came to a clearing in the woods..

a small house with a fir tree and a pony,

an owl sat silent in the tree,

the air was fragrant with

the smell of hickory, and

the sounds of the night were,
quiet and true.

2011-03-23T20:00:00.007-05:00

When I first started this blog I had no idea of the wonderful women I was to meet. Artists, photographers, writers, moms, sisters, so many people I have found common ground with.
Today, to show my appreciation and to acknowledge some of these incredible women, I wish to share a few of the blogs I like to visit. This is just a small sample.
More to come....

To Dorikult a gifted artist for her narrative paintings of her life in the Bavarian Forest, and her lit from within paintings of spiritual imagery. I absolutely love this style of painting.

An aspiring blogger, my beautiful niece at A day in the life for her zest for life!

To the Gaelic region please see the work of the very talented Into my own for her photography that is an inspiration to enjoy the wonders of the natural world.

To Nika Zakharov for her beautiful skillful depiction of the human form and her dedication to her art. A quiet beauty can be found here.

For her sense of humor and youthful exuberance you must visit Lunar Hine.

The blog What the Sea Told Me shows photos Lisa takes from her attic window of
The Irish Sea. Astounding!

and the gorgeous, poetic photography of A mouse upon the sands.

I wish to thank these women for sharing the beauty of their

lives, and the courage and generosity for letting others enjoy their talents.

Please check back for the next round of this celebration and appreciation of wonderful women.

2011-03-21T10:30:00.000-05:00

Images from the weekend.

One morning I recognized a bird call that hasn't been heard all winter and

I looked up to see this handsome fellow. Click to hear his song.

brewers blackbird

Such a sleek, sturdy bird they are, and in the light they wear

the colors of a rainbow.

2011-03-18T09:48:00.048-05:00

Eagles and Thich Nhat Hahn

I just discovered an site that has an Eagle Cam set up in a botanical garden in Norfolk, Virginia.

Here is an image from the blog.

Image copied from http://eaglecam.tumblr.com/

And here is the link Eagle Cam for the live viewing of the Eagles raising three young, the third was hatched only yesterday.
I'm taken at how these huge powerful birds so tenderly care for their young. This is truly an amazing and rare experience.

And from a truly amazing man,

Dear friends in Japan,

As we contemplate the great number of people who have died in this tragedy, we may feel very strongly that we ourselves, in some part or manner, also have died.

The pain of one part of humankind is the pain of the whole of humankind. And the human species and the planet Earth are one body. What happens to one part of the body happens to the whole body.

An event such as this reminds us of the impermanent nature of our lives. It helps us remember that what’s most important is to love each other, to be there for each other, and to treasure each moment we have that we are alive. This is the best that we can do for those who have died: we can live in such a way that they continue, beautifully, in us.

Here in France and at our practice centers all over the world, our brothers and sisters will continue to chant for you, sending you the energy of peace, healing and protection. Our prayers are with you.

~Thich Nhat Hanh, via tumblrreblogged from lynnehoppe

2011-03-17T17:49:00.003-05:00

Drawing on strength and fragility

A couple of days ago I started this drawing. It was one of those drawings that I don't really have an idea, I just want to move the pencil around to see what emerges. I started with an oval shape and then lightly penciled in eye lids, nose, mouth, and thought maybe it looks like the moon, then I added a bird tucked under the chin and added hair on the head and it became a girl.

A sensitive girl tenderly holding a bird,

maybe the bird is injured, I'm not sure, only that

there is a mutual recognition that they each

need each other to live.

I will continue to work on strengthening this drawing. It seems to need to be sharpened somehow without losing the fragile feeling.

2011-03-16T16:10:00.000-05:00

Spring

She appears, and we are once more children

we commence again our course with the new year.

Let the maiden no more return, and men will become poets for very grief.

No sooner has winter left us time to regret her smiles,

than we yield to the advances of poetic frenzy.

"The flowers look kindly at us from the beds with their child eyes,

and in the horizon the snow of the far mountains dissolves into light vapor."

- GOETHE, Torciuato Tasso.

Today is the first day this year that I was able to open all the windows of the house.
It felt good to mix the inside air with the outside and to hang sheets to dry
for the nights sleeping.

I have opened my Etsy shop! You can click on the icon at the top of the left side bar, or here. I hope to add more soon.

2011-03-14T09:45:00.003-05:00

In light of the tragedy in Japan, and for all beings who suffer, I have no words,

only this..

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is error, the truth;
Where there is doubt, the faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled, as to console;
To be understood, as to understand;
To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

St. Francis of Assisi

2011-03-13T19:11:00.000-05:00

Images from the Weekend

2011-03-08T11:49:00.000-06:00

A weekend visit

This weekend I had the most enjoyable visit from my niece, Renae and

her gorgeous new puppy, Rockstar!

Rockstar is a female Mastiff who is going to be a very big girl.

She was a little shy at first and hid behind her mommy's legs,

but soon enough she was gleefully romping with my dogs, and having a

barking, flopping and chasing good time.
Renae and her new puppy have only been together for a couple of weeks
but already have a strong bond and seem to have been together for a long time.
You can keep track of these two and their wonderful adventures together here.

A pause before the next ambush.

2011-03-07T11:26:00.001-06:00

Artist selling their work.

I've been working hard on some new drawings and am almost ready to open my etsy shop.

If anyone has a shop, please leave a comment on any thoughts you wish to share about etsy.com.

It seems to be an affordable way for artisans around the country to display their work and offer it for sale with as little or as much time as you would like to spend on it.

The Willow, the stream, and Misha

Taking walks with my dog, Misha, we are drawn to special places.

Have a wonderful Monday!

2011-03-05T12:37:00.007-06:00

March

Winter hangs on longer here.

Not ready to yield to the tune that softly plays in other places, she firmly grasps her freezing nights and her sudden snow cover in the morning. The blustery wind is a

reminder to keep a warm jacket close.

So for now, we wait..

The seedling may not be ready to emerge, but I see its eye lids flutter

and I hear in the bird song, a promise,
a slight change of notes that alters the tune and says

yes, a change is in the air.

and soon, very soon the windows will stay open and the warm coats
will be put away.

2011-02-27T16:43:00.000-06:00

Images of February, 2011

2011-02-23T14:04:00.000-06:00

Wistfulness, old women and crows.

Still feeling a little bereft at times over the passing of our sweet pug. I have been looking off wistfully while working on some new drawings.

Through the window I watch the trees turn from brown, to brown and white again and dream of the old and new places I will discover while tromping through the woods this spring.
Sometimes this kind of imagining influences my art and I never know what sort of places this will take me.
This week the kindest, funniest old woods woman paid me a visit. These women come to visit quite often and I interpret this as a reminder that long ago we were all women and men of the woods and that many of us feel a strong bond with the natural world and long to reconnect with nature.

This woman came to me with humor and warmth all bundled up inside her coat that she shares with birds and other creatures of the woods.

Nuts and seeds fell from holes in her pockets as she made her way down the brushy path.

Laughing and clucking as she fed the birds I could feel myself become her as I traced the lines of her sparkling eyes.

And with the melting snow come the crows,
looking for tasty things under the snow.

So clever they are . I love to watch them and are often rewarded with fresh scenes that they leave me for drawing.

Emma watching crows.

2011-02-18T09:24:00.000-06:00

Enchanted by the full moon.

Last night I sat with the moon as my companion.

So beautiful and luminescent she was.

2011-02-16T16:43:00.001-06:00

As I'm thinking of the last few days, I ask myself some questions,

Is pain always a catalyst for change? I reflect on this and wonder.

What a golden opportunity to leap into the boundless

arms of love!

love of life, love of death

If only for a brief while, let me bask in the certainty

and alight on the branch with the sparrow.

2011-02-15T12:08:00.000-06:00

The crows put on quite a show for us yesterday.

Gathering in the tree branches, watching, waiting.

Sleek black feathers against white snow.

2011-02-14T09:11:00.004-06:00

The passing of a sweet spirit.

Dolly

1995 - 2011

We laid to rest our sweet pug, Dolly over the weekend.

She came to stay with us 9 years ago at the age of 6 or 7.

She was a retired breeder for a puppy mill in Missouri, no longer of prime breeding age she was sold at an auction along with other dogs that "no longer earn their keep" and through the kind efforts of the dog rescue groups in Missouri and Illinois, she was then

spayed, given vet. care, quality food and loved by a foster family until she was put up for adoption and became our girl.

We never tired of watching her blossom into the beautiful little pug she was meant to be.

Silent, (we never heard her bark) stoic and intuitive she had many special qualities that we never tired of noticing and marveling at.

We always felt she gave us more than we gave her.

We eventually went on to adopt two more pugs, and recently a lanky hound mix.

While we will miss your sweet face dear one, our hearts are filled with gladness that we were the ones that you shared your life with.

Rest in peace sweet girl.

Please consider adoption.

2011-02-10T10:37:00.000-06:00

An apt description of the weather around the Rock River Valley cold has stopped the clock ...Thoreau's Journal: 7-Feb-1855

The coldest night for a long, long time was last. Sheets froze stiff about the faces. Cat mewed to have the door opened, but was at first disinclined to go out. When she came in at nine she smelt of meadow-hay. We all took her up and smelled of her, it was so fragrant. Had cuddled in some barn. People dreaded to go to bed. The ground cracked in the night as if a powder-mill had blown up, and the timbers of the house also. My pail of water was frozen in the morning so that I could not break it. Must leave many buttons unbuttoned, owing to numb fingers. Iron was like fire in the hands. Thermometer at about 7:30 A.M. gone into the bulb, -19 degrees at least. The cold has stopped the clock. Every bearded man in the street is a graybeard. Bread, meat, milk, cheese, etc., etc., all frozen. See the inside of your cellar door all covered and sparkling with frost like Golconda. Pity the poor who have not a large wood-pile. The latches are white with frost, and every nail-head in entries, etc., has a white cap. The chopper hesitates to go to the woods. Yet I see S.W.—stumping past, three quarters of a mile for his morning dram.

You can read more here.

2011-02-08T16:47:00.000-06:00

Fledglings, Eagles and How things are.

The Fledgling

A little sketch this morning and noticing some similarities.

The young bird has such an innate desire to move on but still needs time to grow,

immature and not yet confident in ones abilities,

still learning and taking in the environment, awkward and evolving.

I have felt like this many times in this life of mine and will

feel this way many times more.

This is just how things are.

The Eagle

I have been distracted and delighted lately.

It is a rare treat indeed to have so many Bald Eagles on the Rock River.

Taking every opportunity to see these magnificent birds has been occupying my

thoughts, interrupting plans, and interfering with appointments.

Eagles making an appearance on the Mississippi in winter are more common.

One or two sightings, something special, But here? On the Rock River?

A mere 15 min. drive and there is open water. A good place to fish if you're an Eagle.

I have counted eight sometimes ten just within my direct view. They are steadfast in the business at hand. Who could blame them. Protein is a priority when the actual temp. is -4 degrees.

Regal, self confidant, patient, and glorious.

2011-02-06T20:38:00.025-06:00

My sweet friend Emma and I share a moment.

Bald Eagles on the Rock River

AISOYIMSTAN

2011-02-01T09:58:00.000-06:00

White horse and Owls

White horses have always seemed like ethereal, mystical creatures

to me especially when they are shrouded in mist and fog. Ghostlike and mute.

In Native American Blackfoot Mythology AISOYIMSTAN is the God of Snow and Ice.
He is the White God and 'Cold Maker' who blankets the earth with frost and snow.
Aisoyimstan is portrayed as a man, white in color, with white hair, dresses in white clothes, and riding a white horse.

White horse in Forest

Black Ink Drawing

The owl, elusive and mysterious has also been visiting me.
There is something about the Owl I find so fascinating.
How silent and clever they are. How beautiful their plumage!

The Owl

Beautiful creatures of the night.

2011-01-31T12:57:00.000-06:00

As the last day of January comes to its end, it would be a mistake to think that

Mother Winter will release her white world
any time soon.

Walking with Misha

Misha loves to run.

As soon as she is let off leash she will run

around and around and around me ,

sometimes up to five times or more with out stopping.

Once all the excess energy and pure joy of running fast is
finished it is time to check out the surroundings

Beautiful colors of Winter.

I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in. ~John Muir, 1913

2011-01-26T13:59:00.000-06:00

Captured by this photograph of a young girl's gaze ,

I penciled a likeness hoping to

portray the calm reflective feeling.

Images from this week

2011-01-19T09:21:00.003-06:00

New drawings

2011-01-18T08:37:00.000-06:00

Finding inspiration from strong women,

and cats.

Blind Marta

pencil drawing

She holds the cat firmly,

feeling its compliance and surrender,

caring for each other,

mutual trust.

2011-01-16T12:20:00.001-06:00

Not far from where I live is a small park. Making time to walk in nature quiets my mind, but that day it was cold and very windy and I almost thought of going back home till I remembered the geography of this place.

There is a section that is like a deep bowl. A limestone bluff and the creek form one side...

and if I walk eighty paces or so, a steep tree covered hillside is on the other side.

This is where the wind stopped and the quiet began.

A hole in the ice covered creek, the water still moving.

The remains of a small fern growing out of the bluff that

I was never able to get close to, but the creek now frozen allowed me to see the ferns at close range. This felt like a privilege.

snow, paints images on the bluff.

wonderful patterns

so quiet it was

but for the

the sound of the Nuthatch.

2011-01-11T11:06:00.001-06:00

A new drawing to photograph, an exercise in shading, exploring detail,

a depiction of realism,...

"What!? Do you want me to move?"

Emma thinks she should be in every photo.

Pencil drawing