Tag Archives: sketching

Painting in the Adirondacks

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Last week I spent two soul-refreshing days in the quiet and beauty of the Adirondacks. A friend invited me to her place in the North Woods Club, accessible only by a 10 mile long dirt road that gets progressively narrrower and bumpier the closer one gets to one’s destination. Of course there was no cell signal along the road, and I was hoping (at times doubting) that I was on the correct road. Nevertheless, as my car bounced along over stones and rocks, I marveled at the scenery on all sides, from the small scale beauty of a stream gurgling on rocks beside the road to the breathtaking vista of a spruce-lined pond with a backdrop of bluish mountains. I figured that even if I were on the wrong road, it was a fine place to be lost.

Happily I was not lost, and eventually arrived at my friend’s house, already awed by the place and eager to pull out sketchbook and paints. Within minutes I was on the deck, sketching the mountains, while sampling a variety of delicious cheeses and chatting with my friend. As evening drew near, we drove to nearby Mink Pond, loaded up a rowboat with provisions, and rowed across the pond to a fire pit on an island, where we cooked steaks and home fries (and, of course, I sketched). Steaks grilled over a campfire taste better than almost anything else, especially after a long day of travel. Only one party at a time is allowed to sign out a rowboat for a given pond or lake, so we had Mink Pond to ourselves. As I watched the reflections on water and the colors of sunset, I marveled that there was no sound of traffic anywhere around– such a welcome sound of silence.

–Click on photos to see images large enough to read notes–

Polaris Mountain from the deck of the house
West Bay of Mink Pond from Mink Island
Sunset over West Bay of Mink Pond
Sunrise from my bedroom window
Looking toward Mud Pond from Prospect Rock
The second day I was there, we drove along a very long, very, very bumpy road (more like a rock-strewn path through the woods) to a more distant lake– Split Rock Lake. There we loaded up rowboats and rowed a fairly long way across to a fire pit and lean-to, where we made a fire and prepared to cook burgers, when suddenly storm clouds appeared across the lake. We quickly doused the fire and rowed back through rain, thankfully making it across before there was any thunder and lightning. I love storms, so once back at the house, I happily sketched cloudy skies.
Stormy afternoon view of Beaver Mountain
 

On my final morning visiting, I again woke early enough to watch the sky turn from dull gray to pink-tinted gray, to a full-blown wash of pink, orange, and purple. Both mornings I was there, I heard loons start calling on the lake just as the first hint of color appeared in the clouds.

I departed reluctantly but well-refreshed, having thoroughly enjoyed good time with friends, the splendor of nature, and the quiet of the deep woods.

American Avocets!

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After watching the
wind whip up the river and a cloudburst obscure the downriver view for a
while,  Stephen and I were strolling along the Newburgh waterfront on August 7th, when I stopped
to sketch a friendly duck, who was following people along the sidewalk.
While I was sketching her, Stephen asked me what some birds were down
by the water’s edge. I turned to see two striking black and white birds of a kind I had never seen before perched on rocks on the river’s edge.

The name “Avocet” immediately came to mind, but having never seen an Avocet or even a suspicion of one, I really wasn’t familiar with them. I did a couple of quick sketches,
along with some notes to help with identification, then ran to the car where I keep a
field guide and checked– they were indeed American Avocets! We went back to watch them
for a few more minutes, until they flew off low over the water, headed
down river, in the direction of Beacon or Cold Spring.

The American Avocet is not typically seen this far north along the east coast, so this is considered a rare bird sighting for our area, all the more special for us, as we were out on a dinner date for our anniversary. American Avocet Species Range Map

Innisfree Garden

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I can’t believe I’ve lived here for twenty-six years and haven’t been to Innisfree Garden until today. It certainly won’t be that long before I go again to enjoy the peaceful grounds, the lily pad bordered lake, the abindant flowers, and the wonderful rock formations. I strolled around the lake with Jonathan, then we each went to whatever spot had caught our eye to spend time thinking, praying, reading, and just being.

I first sat at a picnic table to eat my lunch, then sketched the view looking down the lake.

After that I meandered along the lake until I came to a shady hill with a cool breeze, right by the 60 foot fountain. There were seats on the hilltop, overlooking the lake, where I sat and pondered with pen in hand, thinking about how to add sabbath rest to my week on a regular basis. I think I’ve decided on Wednesdays. I’ll focus on spiritually and physically refreshing activities on those days, and keep internet browsing, email, and phone time to a minimum, in order to help ground myself in the here and now. That will also give me the quiet time for contemplation, prayer, and open-ended musing that I need in order to stay grounded in who God has made me to be.

After writing for a while, I wandered a bit more, until I found myself enveloped in the fragrance of sun-warmed pines on a dry hillside– the perfect place to sit and sketch.

Finally, rested and refreshed in body and soul, I made my way slowly around the lake until I met up with Jonathan. We then explored, as we compared notes about our day. I’m looking forward to going back very soon.

Bullfrog on lily pad

Partially done sketch from above Corncrib Crossing
Swift Long-winged Skimmer Dragonfly on Lotus bud
One of many benches in strategic nooks

Tiger Swallowtail on Joe Pye Weed

17-year Cicadas

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I settled into my hammock a couple of weeks ago, ready to enjoy a glass of iced tea (with chocolate mint from my garden), a good book, and some peace and quiet. Until I heard a pulsing hum in the distance. With a sigh I tried to ignore what I assumed was some sort of motor noise from a distant neighbor’s yard. The pulsing wasn’t loud, but it was continual and somewhat irritating, since too often I feel inundated by various types of engine noise that drown out the quieter sounds of nature and eliminate silence from my world. It occurred to me that it might be some sort of insect sound, but it seemed so regular in its pulsing that we figured it must be an engine.

The next afternoon the motor noise was louder, and I began to think it might be the 17-year cicadas I had been reading about, but I wondered why I hadn’t seen any in our yard. When I went for a walk around some neighboring roads, though, the humming was much louder in some areas and almost nonexistent in other areas, even along a two-mile loop. And, I began to see a few red-eyed cicadas. It turns out that these periodical cicadas can be very localized and may emerge with great density in some areas and be completely absent in immediately adjoining areas.

Interestingly, once I knew the noise I was hearing was a cicada chorus and not a motor running loudly in the distance, it no longer seemed irritating. Now I wanted to hear it more closely and see more of these red-eyed singers, more fully experiencing this brief and fascinating visitation of long-lived insects.

By yesterday the chorus was dying down and I began seeing dead and dying cicadas on my morning walk, so I brought a few dead insects home to sketch. I also looked them up and found out that there are both 13 and 17 year cicadas, with three species of 17-year cicadas and 4 species of 13-year cicadas. One fact I found particularly fascinating is that all these species have life cycle lengths that are based on prime numbers (13 years and 17 years). I just love the way math shows up in nature cycles and systems and structures!

I am sorry to say good-bye to the cicadas and their song, and I look forward to seeing and hearing their offspring in 2030.

Click image to enlarge

Interesting links with more information:
www.magicicada.org
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/03/ask-about-the-17-year-cicada/?_r=0

PJ– July 2001 to May 28, 2013

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PJ was my friend Sarah’s dog, and I got to know her well while I was pet-sitting when Sarah would travel. Later on PJ spent a fair amount of time with me and always fit in as a sweet, happy member of our family.

It was a kind of grace to be
PJ’s friend. She came to Sarah as an unsocialized, semi-feral puppy, and Sarah slowly, patiently taught her to trust. Over time PJ became more and more social and ended up loving people, but when I first met her as a two-year-old, she was still quite
reserved. I immediately felt an affinity for this shy, camouflaged
sprite, who so loved being quietly outside by herself, and I always felt
it was a gift and a privilege to have her trust. Sarah often said that PJ had the same personality as I, but in a dog’s body. Maybe that is why PJ and I connected right away; I felt as though we understood each other without words.

PJ was an observer. She spent much of her days watching and waiting in eager expectation. Hour by hour contentedly watching a tree in which she knew a squirrel sometimes foraged. Waiting patiently for a woodchuck to come out of its hole. Watching and waiting while a squirrel walked within a few yards of her on the deck. Weather rarely deterred PJ, and she would frequently ask to stay outside when the other dogs came in.
Watching the Horse Chestnut tree on a rainy day

Watching the world with her, whether slowly
meandering through the woods on leash, investigating every interesting
scent, or roaming fields searching for something moving subtly under the
grass, or sitting on the deck with her watching her watch a tree for hours, opened my eyes to much
that I may otherwise have missed. During times when I might otherwise have been stressed, PJ often helped cultivate a peaceful spirit in me, attentive to easily-overlooked but fascinating aspects of the natural world around my home.
My shadow and PJ, enjoying a winter woods walk

 I miss the gentle tap on my elbow or soft poke behind my knee that were
her quiet ways of saying, “Hi, I’m here with you.” I would turn to see
those bright eyes, that sweet expression or happy grin, and her wagging tail. I miss the
thump, thump, thump of her tail on the floor whenever I’d look in her
direction. I miss her uniquely beautiful ears that would twitch slightly in my direction to greet me, when she was “watching.”


PJ, beloved scruffy girl, I miss
your gentle spirit and quiet zest for life. I will watch and wait and remember all you taught me.

A young PJ, in pencil
watercolor sketch done in the field
How to Appreciate a Tree, by PJ

Sketching and Birding at Olana

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Today the
New York Plein Air Painters (NYPAP) had a paint out at Olana, the 19th century home, studio and designed
landscape of Hudson River School artist Frederic Edwin Church, in memory
of NYPAP founder, Ted Beardsley, so there were artists painting
everywhere on the grounds.  I saw several artists I already knew and met several more whose names were familiar to me, but whom I had never met, and then others who were entirely new to me. Such an enjoyable and inspiring day!
This was my first, but definitely not my last, visit to Olana. There are paintable vistas in every direction. I decided to do a series of sketches, rather than a finished painting, since it was all new to me and I wanted to experience a variety of vistas. There were interesting birds at each spot where I sketched, so I kept my binoculars on and my eyes open.
 Here is my day is pictures (click on images to see larger image and read what birds I saw at each location):

Periodical Cicada– the first I’ve seen this year; I know there will soon be many more
A big thank you to all those who organized this day’s paint out. It was a wonderful day!

Silver — 1998 to May 23, 2013

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Snuggling while I was working at my computer

Silver sold a painting for me once. When I first saw dark blue pawprints on my recently finished painting of Stonehenge, my initial response was neither appreciation nor joy. Silver, always energetic, mischievous, and into everything, had taken advantage of my brief absence from my studio to leap onto the table She had walked through the wet blue paint on my palette, across the freshly dried watercolor painting, and then along the table and windowsills, leaving a trail of bright blue prints all around the room. I hurriedly scrubbed as much of the blue as I could off the paper, but faint marks were left in the middle of the sky. Unfortunately not faint enough to qualify as sky, the marks ruined my painting… or so I thought.

After some mulling, it occurred to me that perhaps I could hide the marks by covering them with a flock of birds. Not where I’d normally place birds, but it was the only hope for this painting, so I added them. Someone saw my Stonehenge paintings on facebook and came here to look at them. She decided to buy the painting with the flock of birds, saying she particularly liked that one because of the birds. Thank you, Silver!

 That pretty much encapsulates what Silver’s presence in our family was like. Vibrant, playful, and curious, Silver was an active part of nearly everything that went on in our home, adding her own unique personality to the mix. She loved the dogs and enticed the Aussies into chasing her down the hall almost every evening. I wrote this about Silver in an article about our pets a couple of years ago:

Silver, one of my two cats, sashays in front of the dogs, then crouches, swishes her tail wildly back and forth, and suddenly darts down the hall, Petra and Rowan chasing playfully after her. Moments later she confidently strides back into my studio, hops up on the table, and walks through my palette, then leaves a trail of blue paw prints across the bookshelves. I love this cat. I am never bored with her in the house and it would be hard to be lonely. Her mischievous, playful ways are balanced by her quiet poses as she sits on an upside down box or even on a piece of paper and solemnly watches me for long minutes, clearly just wanting to be near.

Silver was Arielle’s cat– a gift for her 11th birthday. Arielle had asked for a kitten for her birthday, and I’d heard that there was a stray kitten at the animal hospital. We went to see it, but the kitten had been adopted. Instead there was a skinny one year old cat who was climbing up the inside of her cage. Arielle took her out, and the cat climbed right up to her shoulder and walked back and forth between our shoulders and heads, constantly on the move, constantly purring. I reminded Arielle that she had wanted a kitten, but was proud of her when she decided that she’d rather give this lonely, affectionate cat a home.

Silver adored Arielle from day one, and even though Arielle hasn’t lived at home much for seven years now, whenever she would visit Silver would be either in or just outside Arielle’s room. For days afterward, I’d find her hanging out by Arielle’s door a couple of times a day. Since Arielle went to college, Silver began to connect more deeply with me as well, and most of the time she was somewhere near me, whether roaming on my desk or painting table, purring on my lap, or sitting beside my chair.

Silver loved all people and often greeted visitors at the door and would beg to be picked up as soon as they settled in a chair. She loved to go to the vet; it was a new place to explore and there were new people to see– all good in her mind. She even loved her crate and was happy to hop in and go for a car ride.

It is so hard to wrap my mind around the idea that this vibrant, loving cat is no longer here. She was with us for so long and was a warm, loving part of every day for me in the past few years. I miss you so much, my little gray shadow. This house will never be the same without your playing, your pranks, and your purring.

On my lap, watching my face
She loved to sit in baskets, boxes, and wastebaskets
Sketches during Silver’s hyperthyroid days (once treated she was calmer)
Helping me with my work
Watching the birds with me
My last sketch of Silver

Sugarloaf Hike and Black Rat Snake

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Yesterday Stephen and I hiked up Sugarloaf, a steeper hike than we remembered, but well worth it for the view. At the top I sketched the fascinating, signature stump that has been there for as long as we’ve been hiking there, Steve read, and we both enjoyed the sunshine, the Turkey Vultures swooping by, and the river views. (Click photos to view larger)

On our way back down, we saw a 3-4 foot long Black Rat Snake that had clearly just eaten a large and rather pointy meal. As we watched he (or maybe she) calmly slithered to a nearby tree, climbed the tree and disappeared down a hole in the tree.

You can see the bump where there was something pointy on whatever he ate
Mottled pattern of the Black Rat Snake
Heading up the tree
Almost at the hole in the trunk
You can see how high up the hole is

Feeder Visitors

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I’ve been down with the flu or something like it, so have been watching the birds for hours the past couple of days. We’ve had some less common (for us) birds at our feeders, as well as many of our common visitors. I’ve sketched and photographed as many as I could, but there were quite a few more I was unable to capture. (click on photos to view larger)

Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers

Mourning Dove

Male Hairy Woodpecker

Male Brown-headed Cowbird
Chickadee gathering Rowan’s hair from suet cage

Chipping Sparrow

Pine Warbler
Female Purple Finch

Male Purple Finch
White-throated Sparrow

“A Yankee and a Liberal”

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It’s taken me a while to get around to posting about my trip home, because I came home with the flu and am only now really getting back on my feet. I think I can thank the state of Georgia for the flu.

Here’s some writing I did about my drive through Georgia– not my favorite part of my trip:

A Yankee and a Liberal 

“And this one,” the man’s dark eyes radiated anger as he jerked his thumb toward me, “this one’s a Yankee and a Liberal.” 
I’ve never quite known the definition of “redneck,” but I knew this man for one, and I knew he wasn’t safe. I glanced about the rural filling station convenience store, as the man chanted something about the Mason-Dixon Line. A woman behind the counter, another woman at the front of the line, then two lean, grizzled men, one middle-aged, one older. I quickly ducked behind them on line, keeping my eyes lowered and my mouth shut. I felt a bit less exposed and vulnerable behind the two men, but I didn’t want to incite the man anymore than my presence already had. I knew he was trying to rouse the group against me, but my brief glance had assured me he wasn’t winning any friends in this place. 
How had he known I‘m from up north? I was in a friend’s car with Florida plates, and I had known better than to open my mouth and let my accent betray me. I think that mystery was part of what kept me anxious and on guard during my drive through Georgia a few days later. 
I was driving home from Florida, alone except for Rowan, who was sleeping peacefully on the floor in front of the passenger seat, securely buckled in his canine seatbelt. He wouldn’t be able to reach me to help if anyone hassled me. My plan was to stop and sketch or paint anytime a pretty view captured my attention, and there were plenty of pretty views in Georgia. Most of all, I loved the nearly ubiquitous pecan orchards with their majestic trees rising tall and dark in their winter starkness. They would look great sketched in sepia ink on an off-white paper. 
I longed to stop beside the road and sketch, but something in me kept telling me to keep going, that it wouldn’t be wise to be seen stopped beside the road in my car with New York plates. Several times I pulled off the main road to find a quieter place to sketch, but each time I decided to keep going and content myself with sketching in my mind. One such back road crossed over a creek, and I almost missed the sign with the name of the creek. I turned around to go back and read it—“Murder Creek.” I kept going. 
When I finally crossed into South Carolina and then North Carolina, the dark feeling lifted, and I freely and frequently stopped to sketch or stretch my legs. I’m not sure what it was about Georgia, but I don’t intend to plan any painting trips there anytime soon. I’m happy to be back home in the north now; I’d rather be a “Yankee and a Liberal” than a hotheaded redneck any day.

After a morning in Asheville, NC browsing galleries (Fun!), I meandered along the Blue Ridge Parkway and other roads toward Boone, where I’ve been wanting to go for years to visit Cheap Joe’s, my favorite art store. After leaving Boone, I continued north, pulling off to sketch when I saw pretty views. And finally this Yankee is back where she belongs, north of the Mason-Dixon line.

North Cove View from Blue Ridge Parkway
Table Rock View from Blue Ridge Parkway

Boone, NC, where Cheap Joe’s is located!
Draper, VA exit off I 81
Buchanan, VA exit off I 81