The Sweet Savor of Home

We got home earlier this week from a wonderful trip visiting Arielle and Stephen’s mother. We walked, talked, ate good food, hiked, painted, and generally had a restful, refreshing time. I may post some of those paintings and sketches in another post. I love traveling to visit family or see interesting places but, even so, I’m always happy to come back home.

I especially cherish the simple, peaceful moments at the start of most days when I sit, tea in hand and Acadia warming my lap, reading my Bible and watching birds breakfasting at our feeders. 

Quiet evenings I stroll in the yard with my dogs romping or exploring as I review the day, while long shadows and rich evening light refresh my soul. 

And then at the close of the day, right before I go to bed, I usually step out one last time to look into the depths of the indigo sky sprinkled with bright stars, and I thank God for the wonder of his creation as I bid the day good-night.

Hudson River Watercolor

The trees may not have leaves yet, but spring really is finally arriving here in New York. Two days ago I went to Bowdoin Park, sat in the warm sun overlooking the Hudson River, and played with my paints. I love the varied colors of the land all year, and I especially like the more subtle melange of colors in an early spring landscape, when grasses are starting to green up and shrubs are just barely gaining a hint of color from buds swelling with the promise of vibrant color to come.

Hudson River
Watercolor 6″ x 12″

To see this and other paintings that are available, please visit my Etsy Shop:
Melissa Fischer’s Art

Artist-in-Residence at Acadia National Park!

Last week I was notified that I’ve been selected to be an artist-in-residence at Acadia National Park in Maine! I am SO EXCITED! I applied in early January and have been eagerly awaiting news, attempting (with limited success) to wait patiently and not check my email obsessively. I got the email last week on the first day of a vacation trip Stephen and I took; that started that vacation off on a wonderful note.

During the time I’ll be there (October 14-31), I’ll be focused on immersing myself in the world of Acadia and in my art. Observing, exploring, sketching, creating, painting. I can hardly wait! I’ll also be working with the public (school children, I think) for an hour or so each week, sharing my love for nature and art, something I always love doing.

I am so very thankful to the Schoodic Institute and Acadia National Park for this incredible opportunity, and a big thank you also goes to my friends and family who encouraged me to apply. I feel so honored to have been selected, and I am eager to serve the park and the public with my art. I’ve already purchased a book on plein air painting at the park– Acadia National Park and Mount Desert Island Plein Air Artist Guide— and have been perusing the book and counting the weeks and months until I can start roaming the park, sketchbook in hand.

View from Gorham Mountain, Acadia National Park,
photo courtesy of National Park Service

Skunk Cabbage

I glanced out the window today, enjoying the view of no snow on the banks of the stream (though it’s snowing pretty hard right now, so perhaps that will change by tomorrow), and noticed a small, dark reddish shape. A skunk cabbage blossom– one of my favorite signs of spring! I grabbed my sketchbook and headed out in the rain, that promptly began mixing with snow, and quickly sketched a few blossoms.

The flower, made up of a spathe (large bract that forms a sheath) that surrounds a spadix (a spike-like fleshy stem that has small flowers along its length) comes up early in the spring, often while there’s still snow on the ground. It produces heat (up to 35 degrees above air temp) and melts its way through the frozen earth and melts the snow around it. I guess that means I can expect to see reddish or yellowish greenish flowers protruding through the snow tomorrow morning, reminding me that spring is here in one of its earliest forms.

Click on the image to see it large enough to read.

 

The Retreat of Winter

I stood on my deck in the marginally warm sunshine this afternoon and, looking south, painted the stream, which is finally free of ice, and whose banks are slowly appearing from beneath Winter’s heavy blanket.

Like winter in Narnia retreating before Aslan’s advance, the snow is gradually yielding to Spring’s sunshine. The west facing bank of the stream is now snow-free, but the east facing side is still covered. The mornings are cold enough that early in the day the sun can’t muster the warmth to melt the snow, but the afternoons are warmer now, so the south and west facing areas are clearing.

Vernal Equinox

Friday was the first day of spring, though with snow on the ground and new snow falling, it looked more like winter. Not even snowdrops, the first of the bulbs to poke through the ground here, are up yet, but the birds are singing their glorious songs of spring and every day the sun shines a bit longer.

I noticed that we didn’t have exactly twelve hours each of day and night on Friday; day was slightly longer. It turns out that that’s because sunrise is counted as the time the top of the sun’s disc first appears on the horizon, whereas sunset is when the trailing edge of the sun disappears below the horizon. That makes “day” slightly longer. In addition, the earth’s atmosphere causes refraction of light, which makes the sun visible to us before it actually rises and for a short time after it actually sets. Here’s a link I found that explained all that clearly and simply:
Equinox: equal day and night, but not quite

 

Red-winged Blackbird

This morning I was reading inside with the outdoor speakers on (we have microphones on the deck near the bird feeders), when I suddenly heard conk-la-ree! The song of the Red-winged Blackbird! I leaped up and ran out to the deck, and counted nine male Red-wings in a treetop! A minute later there were twenty, divided between two trees and, as I watched, some were flying from the more southerly tree to the one on the north side of our yard. A couple of minutes later all were gone, perhaps to proclaim the coming of spring to someone farther north.

Red-winged Blackbird

 

A Reprieve and a Gift: My Dog is Back

A warm breeze whispered across my face and, looking down, I saw it rumpling Rowan’s red fur as he glanced up, then smiled his wide doggy grin as he caught my eye and held my gaze. My dog is back and I am happy.

A few weeks ago I didn’t know if Rowan would still be with me much longer. For months I’d been feeling like our bond wasn’t as strong as it had been and, as is my wont, I figured I was to blame. Was I so distracted and fulfilled by having a grandchild that I no longer valued my relationship with my dog as much? Maybe I was too preoccupied with my search for and then delight in my new cat, Acadia. Or was I just too busy training other people’s dogs and getting ready for my February art show?

Whatever the reason, there seemed to be an increasing distance between Rowan and me, and he seemed less and less interested in being with me. Whereas previously, when I would ask if he wanted to go somewhere with me (“with me” being the magic words), Rowan would leap up and run to the door; in recent months when I’d ask, he’d skulk into his crate and lie down with his back to the entrance. He’s always been eloquent in his communication with me, and that was a pretty clear message. I would leave the house alone, with his place both in my car and in my heart empty.

Additionally, we’d been seeing some odd behaviors from Rowan from time to time. Startling more and more often for no apparent reason. Some inexplicable housebreaking issues, and this from a dog who always used to ask to go out even when he just needed to pass gas. Disorientation and indecision in the house. Repeatedly getting “stuck” under the picnic table right outside the door. A part of me knew I was seeing early (or perhaps not-so-early) signs of dementia, also known as Canine Cognitive Dysfunction, but I really wasn’t ready to put it all together.

Then one day I came across a piece I’d written about Rowan a few years ago, and I started to cry as I realized that I hadn’t seen that dog in months. I finally recognized it wasn’t me; that Rowan really had changed and that he wasn’t the same dog who’d been inseparable from me, who used to go everywhere with me and who knew my moods and state of mind and body better than I did myself. I’d made the wrenching decision to retire Rowan from Service Dog work a few months before when it was apparent he was no longer up to going places with me, but I thought it was due to arthritis. Now I realized it was because he was no longer connected with me in the same deep way he’d been for the preceding eleven years.

With a mixture of fear and despondency I called my vet and was relieved when she was hopeful. She suggested I try giving Rowan SAMe, which is used for cognitive issues in dogs and cats, and also a nutritional supplement, on the premise that even though he’s eating a high quality diet, he may be absorbing fewer nutrients as he ages. She told me it would take about four weeks for the SAMe to make a difference.

I thought I saw some changes within a week, but knew it could be wishful thinking. But now, five weeks later, Rowan is back! Yes, he still seems a bit disoriented in the house occasionally, but he’s not getting stuck under the picnic table anymore, there’ve been no more housebreaking incidents (not that we’ve given him the opportunity), he’s startling much less often, and best of all, he is back to being my loving, connected companion. Now when I ask if he wants to go with me, Rowan leaps up and runs to the door, dancing with excitement. He follows me around the house again, and he comes to me often asking for affection.

I don’t know how long this reprieve will last, nor do I know whether he will decline gradually or depart from me all at once, but for now I am cherishing every day as a gift. And when I look down now, and I see those familiar, intelligent eyes and that happy smile that I know so well, I thank God for more time with this wonderful dog who has blessed me in so many ways.

Rowan in his spot in my car

Pine Siskin

In the winter the Goldfinches mob our feeders, devouring nyjer seeds and sunflower hearts, often outnumbering all the other birds on the deck. Sometimes when we look out, we see birds that look like Goldfinches but not quite. When I look more closely I see streaks where Goldfinches have clear breasts and backs, and I see a hint of bright yellow in the wings. Pine Siskins– closely related to Goldfinches but only here in winter, and not every winter at that.

Click on the photo to see it large enough to read more information.

Pine Siskin

 

Gyrfalcon!

Area birders have been flocking to Wallkill for the past ten days, hoping for a glimpse of a rare visitor to New York– a Gyrfalcon, normally only seen in the Arctic. Stephen and I went yesterday and were privileged to see, photograph, and sketch this new bird for us, along with many other enthusiastic birders.
You can click on the images to see them big enough to read my notes about our visit to this bird and facts about Gyrfalcons in general.
Gyrfalcon in Wallkill

I did quick sketches in the field, then added to them later from Stephen’s photos.

Wallkill Gyrfalcon