Category Archives: Melissa’s Musings and Doodlings

It’s 9 AM and the sky is dark and heavy. It feels more like dusk than morning. There’s a nearly constant rumble of distant thunder and then the occasional CRACK and BOOM from nearby lightning.

I love this kind of weather. I’ve opened the windows so I can hear the gentle patter of rain that contrasts in mood with the loud irruptions of thunder.

Oddly, I feel both energized and calmed by the storm. All my senses are awake and enjoying the show, but I’m also content to sit still watching and listening. Bituminous is purring and kneading on my lap, Rowan and Petra are lying with heads up and alert on either side of me. Milo is nervous, but less than he used to be. We’ve had so many thunderstorms this summer that he seems to be getting used to them. Silver is wandering around, sniffing each of the dogs and standing up to sniff Bituminous. She seems oblivious to the storm.

I love the power and extremes in nature. The depths of the ocean fascinate me. Thinking of the far reaches of the universe awes me and makes me feel incredibly small but full of wonder. I love the smooth, hard rock of the trails at Minnewaska and the soft, moist moss that blankets the Adirondacks. Sunrise and sunset on the shortest day and the longest day. The baking heat at the height of summer (very briefly please) and the crackly cold of the dead of winter. It’s all special and delightful, each in its own way.

There were even more wild blueberries along the paths this time! I browsed as we walked, often stripping a handful of juicy berries from a branch with one hand without even slowing down. It wasn’t long before my hands and mouth were an eye-catching bluish purple color. The children and I always used to go wild blueberry picking on my birthday, so to have two trips filled with abundant blueberry picking with Steve was a special birthday treat for me.

Stopping at Castle Point, we took in the view and saw our destination– Lake Awosting. Steve was excited to see antennas in the distance beyond the lake. He always loves to see antennas, and using them as landmarks, he figured out that we were looking across to Sam’s Point, a Pine Barrons where we had hiked exactly two years before. It was cool to be so far up above the land and trees below the cliffs that we looked down on the backs of soaring hawks and vultures.


I love to be read to, so Steve read Psalms about the beauty in creation while I painted.

We hiked a section of The Long Trail that went through a narrow crevasse between very large boulders and then climbed up the cliff-like face of some other boulders (fortunately not very high).

I’m not so sure we’ll be hiking along that section of trail again.

With the fragrance of the Clethra growing all along the banks and its sparkling blue water, Lake Awosting seems almost magical and is well worth the long hike.

Blueberries grow abundantly, forming islands of berry bushes joined by the grayish, glacier-smoothed rock and puncutated by dwarf pitch pines. It’s like a special world with few signs of civilization and a playful, free feeling. Pretending to be a mountain goat, I jumped from rock to rock and ran farther and farther back among the bushes, looking for the best and fullest bushes of blueberries.

I love snakes, so was thrilled when Steve noticed this beautiful Smooth Green Snake in the path.

Kempton Ledge, a welcome resting place with a gorgeous view of the cliffs and descending valleys.

Happy Birthday, Stephen! I was delighted to share this time with you and hope we can do the same when I turn fifty.

I woke at 2:30 this morning with too much on my mind. After lying in bed for a while, trying to go back to sleep, I gave in and got up somewhat grumpily. I knew it was going to be a long day.

I walked into my dark studio and reached for the light switch, then noticed the glow of moonlight and paused with my hand on the switch. My mood shifted slightly and, without turning on the light, I slipped into the warm night, the waning moon shining softly through the damp air. I sat on the picnic table and listened to the faint chirping of a few distant crickets.

A few stars peeked through the mist above the trees that stood vaguely silhouetted in the moonlit sky. I thought (hoped) I’d see some nocturnal inhabitants of the land, but they must have been in the woods or their burrows. All was soft and still.

I sat alone, resting in the solitude and silence. Nothing was in focus, nothing demanded attention. There’s a magically alive quality to the quiet night, and, despite my earlier grumpiness, I was thankful to be awake and outside, and I thought about how much I miss by habitually sleeping until after the sun is up.

As I sat musing on the picnic table, my favorite passage in one of my favorite books, Prince Caspian, came to mind. Young Lucy awakens to her name being called and walks through the trees in the quiet of the night while everyone else sleeps. All of a sudden she comes upon Aslan and rushes to him, burying her face in his mane, basking in his loving, comforting presence. No words are exchanged; they just sit and are together.

I sit alone and yet not alone for half an hour, cherishing every minute of peace and silent communion, then head inside with quiet enthusiasm for the day. I know it will be a good day.

“Searching for Service”… that’s what my cell phone display said yesterday after I lost reception while driving down Cooper lake Road.

As a dog trainer, I often get calls from people “searching for service” in the sense of needing dog training help. Of course I’m delighted to receive such calls– that’s why I am a dog trainer. I also make calls searching for service, when I need car repair or a doctor’s appointment, or anything else that requires someone else’s skills. I’m glad to be of service and I’m thankful to be able to call for service when I need to.

However, driving down Cooper Lake Road, I felt no need to “search for service,” despite the words on my cell phone. It gave me a delightfully free feeling to know no one could call me and I could call no one. I anticipated an hour or so of uninterrupted solitude– a precious gift of time for myself.

The funny thing is, I am often the one who interrupts times when I could be alone and quiet, filling it with unnecessary calls or web browsing. I don’t quite understand why I turn on my phone and make calls or click through web sites when I really could benefit from silence and stillness, but I do, then sometimes regret the lost opportunity for solitude.

That’s why I was so pleased to have driven out of range of cell phone reception yesterday. No one, not even I, would interrupt my quiet time at Cooper Lake.

I hiked a short distance through a pine forest, until I found an opening by the shore. Sitting on pine needles with low-bush blueberries and huckleberries within arm’s length, I let my mind wander at will as I painted the landscape and sampled fresh berries. The sun shining on the pine needles filled the air with a satisfying fragrance, and the clear air gave a perfect view of the distant mountains.

Rowan sat with rapt attention, watching a huge flock of geese floating nearby, quietly honking their contentment. Every now and then he got up to pick and eat a few berries, then he’d sit back down and focus on the geese.

A delightful afternoon painting and pondering in peace.

Now that my schedule is calmer and more manageable, I am excited about painting again. It’s funny how creativity can be so easily squelched by stress and demands on one’s time and attention. Even when I had time to write or paint during the past few months, I usually couldn’t get started. When I did try, everything seemed flat and uninspired.

As I’ve found out over and over, I need chunks of time alone and quiet to flourish physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Without that, I start to lose track of who I am and just do things all day without truly “being.”

Often I sit and listen best when I have something in my hand, so this past week I’ve spent much time with a pen, pencil, or paint brush in hand, contemplating the beauty of creation and trying to catch a little of that beauty on my paper.

The hummingbirds really like the Bee Balm. Arielle and I were sitting on the front steps a couple of days ago, watching a hummingbird zip from blossom to blossom.

I painted these while sitting in the garden on a misty evening and plan to do them again with sunshine on them.

Steve came home with some beautiful lilies for me, so I painted them a few times. Flowers are hard for me for some reason, but I was happy with how some of these turned out. I am trying to figure out where to use detail and where to keep it loose.

I love painting flowers that Steve gives me. That way I can still enjoy the flowers long after they’ve wilted and the petals have drifted to the table top.

During the past couple of days I’ve been painting a Canada Goose and a Great Black-backed Gull from photos.

This gull is from a photo by Dennis Hill from a free photo site online.

Water, waves and reflections are all challenging for me, and I worked for quite a while trying to get the rippling waves right in this painting. With both the waves and the reflected wings, I painted using many layers, allowing the paint to dry thoroughly in between layers.

I did this Canada Goose from a photo by Carol Hickey. She takes wonderful wildlife photos and has given me permission to use them as painting references.

I love the idea of plein air painting– sitting outside, looking at a gorgeous view, taking time to really absorb it as I paint. I have a long way to go till I’m comfortable painting landscapes, but the more I do, the more I like doing them.

Here’s a small painting I did in New Hampshire earlier this week. I sat on a friend’s doorstep and painted with several dogs lolling or playing nearby. A peaceful, quiet way to pass a half hour.

Fireworks, Fireflies, and Crickets

Last night all eighteen of us crowded on the upper deck of the beach house and ooohed and ahhhed as we watched the town of Corolla’s spectacular fireworks display. They were some of the more impressive fireworks I’ve seen, with linking rings, Saturn-like circles with rings around them, gorgeous showers of gold sparks, and many multi-color displays.

Rowan loved being out on the deck with us. He sat on top of the picnic table and looked around happily. He only occasionally looked at the brilliant lights in the sky, but he got very excited when the next-door neighbors shot off a long string of ground sparkler-type fireworks that made a tremendous amount of noise. At that point he jumped off the table and ran over where he could watch them better, only coming back to the table when the neighbors were done.

After the fabulously loud and colorful finale, we clapped and cheered and Rowan barked joyfully, then we all crowded through the doors and played a rowdy game of Catch Phrase.

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We’re home now, and I need some time alone outside to unwind after our long day on the road.

As I sit and look around, I see fireflies twinkling in every direction. No loud noises, no bright colors, no fancy shapes. Just hundreds of tiny lights shining briefly but brightly, turning on and off with seemingly random timing.

Sitting silently watching, one hand resting on Rowan as he lies beside me, I listen to the unobtrusive and sweet chirping of crickets in the woods behind me. It’s early in the season and there aren’t many crickets yet, but the few singing tonight work peace in my heart.

I breathe deeply and feel my body relax and my mind quiet.

I’ll take fireflies and crickets any night…

Landscape painting is not my forte, but I’ve been giving it a try this week. I love the whole idea of painting outside. When I do, I see so much more of the beauty in nature, and sitting in one place painting quiets my soul in a way few other things do.

It is wonderful to sit on a dock, quietly painting and pondering, while the sky goes from blue to orange to pink. Sometimes I meditate or pray while I paint, but more often my mind is calm and still and I am just in the moment. This is something I plan to do a lot more of this summer.

This week on the Outer Banks, I’ve been sur-rounded by beauty. Sunsets, sunrises, dunes, Currituck Sound, Currituck Beach Lighthouse, crashing waves, a calm early morning sea, and more. I wish I could paint it all, but am hampered by both time and ability, but I’ve done some painting. None turned out fabulously, but each is an enjoyable reminder of time spent pleasantly.

I painted some of these alone, some with Steve, one with Arielle, and one with Jonathan. Somehow having my hands occupied keeps my mind from wandering and makes it easier to relax and focus on conversation (or meetings, sermons, or lectures).

I find it so much easier to paint animals, and it occured to me today that perhaps I should try to paint a landscape the same way I paint an animal. Look for the areas of light and dark and think about where I want detail and where I can leave it loose. I can hardly wait to go work on a dunes painting I started yesterday, keeping those thoughts in mind.