I feel the end of summer and the return of the school year. In a week I will be heading back to campus for another stint of immersion oin art therapy. I will miss these days of sitting in and with the trees and birds.
Smoke and Fires
It has been a bad season for forest fires and the smoke even reaches us here on the coast, which is hard to imagine having ocean winds and all.
Feathers and Cedar
Found these sweet feathers, smaller than my pinky finger, in the forest today. Lucky for me but not so lucky for the song bird. There are many owls and hawks in this area. I love the tawny rust moving delicately into silver grey. It is a good way to remember to transition these colours in my paintings without creating mud.
Seed pods sketch
From the sketch book
Very hot today. Hiding under the beach brolly. How quickly the tide comes in when not watched.
Canyons and Deserts
Went camping down in Utah with the family. Utah is a gorgeous place and we like to fly in to LV and then hit the road.
My mum and my sister-in-law walking the river's edge.
Yep. The colours are really like this. All reds and oranges with greens and that kind of sky.
Here I am learning how to weave a little project that took the whole camping trip! My spindles were tiny pieces of wood and the loom was a broom stick handle. It was a family collaborative project with my mum and dad getting the spindles organized and the loom set up, with my two nephews reminding me every day, "Have you worked on your weaving, Auntie Heidi?" in their wee little accents.
In Zion Canyon
Worlds Within Worlds
The Ocean is the birthplace of the creative forces that created us. A salty, electrical bath giving forth to all forms of life of which we are but one. And above our heads, an Ocean no less nourishing. Stars imploding, exploding. Galaxies colliding. Worlds being created, giving forth to all forms of life of which we are but one.
When Thoughts Turn to Feathers
Feathers are of the Air element.
Dreams, aspirations, and wishes all ride in the breath of the wind. Wind moves around us and through us. We are not passive lumps in the swirls and eddies of wind currents, but rather participants, as our thoughts and intents engage with this element.
The feather is a good symbol to remind us that what we think and say, travels on the wind affecting everyone around us.
Small Things
On a walk, this tiny bleached jaw caught my attention. There were no other bones about and it was shining quite brightly against the dark ground.
I always wish I could see how things came to be. How this half jaw of a rodent came to be, all bleached and tidy, sitting neat as a pin on the side of a path. And now in my pocket.
Water Bug
Poor waterbug. He thought the top of the car to be a pond. A lovely, dark pond, reflecting the forest and sky around him. I would have thought so too, if I were a bug. I noticed him when I was stacking wood. As I walked back and forth I could hear a faint buzzing in the background. When I stopped moving, so would he, so I couldn't pin-point what or where the noise was coming from. Finally, I managed to find him trapped where the windshield meets the hood of the car. I got him out and on the gravel. When I checked on him later, he had gone.
The next day, he was back again, buzzing about, stuck on the car, so once again I got him up and going. He liked sitting on the top of the car, no doubt somewhat perplexed at the rigidity of his pond. This time I managed to get a pic before he spread his wings and burzeled off in disgust.
Day's End
Walking the dog at the end of the day, I watch my shadow before me. How long it stretches until is but a small potato. The land is rotating away from the sun, stretching, getting ready to settle down for the evening. All things grow longer, extending the boundary of their physical selves. Shadows merge with other shadows and now the apple tree can chat with the cedar as their forms merge into one. The last news of the day is exchanged with the energy of shadows.
Painting with Ants
Painting in the garden near an ant's nest can be very tickly... and they are so nosy. "Are you done with your coffee cup?" they ask, crawling all over it. "Hey, it's gone cold. Heidi, did you know your coffee has gone cold? What's in here? Is this your paint box? It is so messy. Why are all your colours messed together? That can't be right. We don't do it like that. Here, let us get a 14th opinion. You should get some fresh water. You can't be painting with such dirty water. Since we are here, we are going to check the pigment per water ratio. Oh, do you mind fishing us out? Thanks so much. Heyyyy, this is a nice paintbrush! Sable right? We know our stuff. What are you painting? BUTTERCUPS?!! Those don't look like buttercups.
What! Why are you flicking us off? Can't you take some criticism?"
Mushrooms in Stanley Park
The weather these days are very typical for autumn, one day pouring rain, the next as sunny as can be. We spent the afternoon in Stanley Park, enjoying the aforementioned sun. With all the rain the mushrooms were exploding out of the ground.
and it took all my restraint not to yell, "Smurfs!" when I saw this nice little collection of Amanitas muscaria.
Below is a pencil sketch of Beaver Lake in the Park.
Utah Scorpion
At one campsite, Goblin Valley State Park, my husband
and I were packing up the tent for the next stage in the journey and
there on the ground, right under the tent was this scorpion. I have no
idea which one she/he might be as there seems to be quite a few species
out there in the desert world. She was about two inches in length and
very impressive. She scurried
off to low growing scrub and tried to
hide herself from prying eyes, but after too many repeated ( but very
gentle nudges) with a twig, she flipped over and played dead. It
worked, human attention span is limited and breakfast was more
compelling than a scorpion playin' possum. When we looked later, she
had gone. "Bah", she said, "tourists!"
Bald-faced "Hornet" and Sunsets
So my husband mused aloud the other day, " I wonder why that wasp is sitting on top of the pile of dog poo."
We shrugged and looked puzzled. No doubt, from afar, we looked puzzled by a pile of dog poo. But, in all fairness, it didn't seem to be a very wasp-like thing to do. It doesn't lay its eggs there, it doesn't extract nutrients from any undigested food. It shouldn't be a king on top of such a castle.
Well, this morning I watched a Bald-faced Hornet sitting on a fresh pile of dog poo and found out what it was up to; it was catching flies and carrying the bodies off, presumably to the nest.
It didn't seem like an easy task mind you, it took many attempts to catch a fly and no matter how many times the wasp lunged for the fly, the fly always circled back and landed, confident in its speedier speed. Frustrating, but still easier to wait for the prey to come to you rather than flying high and low for your breakfast.
Still I will leave you with a prettier image of last night's sunset all coral and pretty from the forest fire smoke.
Bald-faced "Hornet"
If there was a wasp that I could get along with, it would be this wasp. It does not take offense if I come too close, rooting in the fig tree. It does not get all cranky if I kneel practically on its head while it feeds on some fallen fig. It does not fly into the kitchen and then run repeatedly into the window, getting all huffy when I try to shoo it out. No. This wasp is a reliable fellow. A well-bred wasp. A wasp with cufflinks for all love. One knows where one is with such a wasp.
( I'll let you know when the inevitable sting happens.)
Raccoon
Carder Bee
This fellow spends a good portion of his time patrolling his flower patch. I have seen him run off both bumblebees and honey bees. He lets female carder bees stay to feed (but ambushes them for a quickie). I watched him drive off a honey bee the other day and the poor mellifera did not fare well. She staggered about the grass and had to rest a good while. I bent close to try to see any visible damage but she took to wing and landed nearby on the plum tree. She hung about there, still recovering, until a paper wasp decided she was an easy target and drifted in for lunch. This caused the honeybee to suck up whatever energy she had and leave this yard of hoodlums.
Big Leaf Maple
Hugh, if you are out there, what is the hard covering called that protects the seed within? Is it a petiole? A petticoat? A pan-piping pinniped?
A Canyon Afternoon
Perfect weather.
Spent the holiday at Lynn Canyon having a picnic. We walked up a ways to get away from the crowds and then cut through some bramble/shrub to get to the river's edge. Found a lovely area to have lunch with everything seemingly in shades of emerald. The water seemed inviting, but after wading through it for more than a few minutes, one's brain began to hurt.
Dragonflies high above, darting this way and that but too fast and too far for an identification.
Abundant large boulders reflect the power of the winter/spring floods when this creek becomes a churning river. On really rainy days, you can hear the rocks churning and grinding under the torrent of water. All the rocks along here are scoured smooth and some truly big boulders stand out from their brethren of smaller rocks.
I believe all the boulders and rocks are granite (since Lynn Creek cuts into a granite bedrock). This oddly shaped boulder ( I can't decide what it quite looks like) had a lovely smattering of moss. Perfect.