The Robin of Spring

Spring has been busy here while I was away. It has been busy for some time actually, pushing up shoots in the cold earth, bringing migrations of birds in the winds and flooding the banks of the local creeks. Robin_in_the_rain

The robins have been hopping about for some weeks now and it is not unusual to find sixty or so birds hanging out together, covering the lawns and trees before they separate into their own territories that they will defend vigorously with the power of song, closing the end of day with their invisible musical fences.

For certain people and places, robins are symbols of new beginnings as they come with the spring, a time of growth, even when clouds, (as grey as the robin's back) shower cold rain on the ground. Their energetic movement reminds you to call upon their energy if you are feeling the cold spring blahs and their warm orange vest reminds you to visualize the rays of the sun and the days getting longer.


Robin Medicine invites you to see clearly. Their white ring around the eye emphasizes this trait, as they run with their characteristic quick gait across the lawn. Suddenly they stop, and look alertly before proceeding once again. They are hunting by clear sight and their medicine invites you to do the same. 

Robin Medicine: New beginnings and growth brought with the clarity of seeing clearly.




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Snow in Cedars

A few days ago we had a lovely snowfall here. Lovely, if you didn't have to work or drive in it. Lovely, if you could trudge along in the snow and head for the forest to see the updraft and swirls playing against the dark greens and burnt siennas of the woods.

The woods near me are an afterthought, an overgrown quarry left to its own devices. It's very close to the main highway and as such, the din of the traffic is incessant. On snowy days, however, the noise is muffled and not as intrusive.

It is a small wood, but interesting and quite strong in its own energy. Sitting and tapping into this energy is always restorative. Once, while sitting quietly, I watched a white coyote make its way through the woods. I was sitting higher up and could watch his progress. He stopped once, to figure out where I was as he had picked up my scent. I cleared my throat to let him see me. That startled him no end, to find me sitting ten feet from him amongst the ferns. He took off in a blur.


This little painting will be developed into something bigger in oil and a little more subdued with greys and greens.

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