Twenty-five years ago, my husband and I carried our one-and-a-half-year-old son up a mountain to a clear, quiet lake in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. It was a blue-sky November day; fall colors lay on the ground; my son wore a blue sweater that his grandmother knit for him. I loved that hike and I remember the details because we took a photo at the water’s edge, mountains tinged by an early frost in the background. And then—life happened. We had a second child, my husband’s family sold their property in the mountains,… Read More
I headed into the woods last weekend to find mayapples in bloom. The flowers are hidden underneath large leaves, so sketching them required squatting at ground level. Within a few minutes, my knees sent me packing, which is, in part, why I only filled half the page with mayapples. I also wanted the white space as a place to rest the eyes and contemplate this thought on painting: In painting, as in any art, persistent practice is not working on the object or the image or the performance alone, but rather, working… Read More
The glory days of springtime come fast and fleeting. Miss the trillium, and you have to wait a whole year to see it again. Migrating birds come, feed, and leave again while we sleep or work or are otherwise distracted. There never seems to be enough time in my spring; no way to capture it all before the symphony of greens gives way to summer. Still, I’ve managed some quick sketches in the woods and I was fortunate to be home when a pair of rose-breasted grosbeaks showed up at the feeder.
Why is it that the first native wildflower to bloom each year in the Northeast gets so little fanfare or attention? Could it be its unappealing name– skunk cabbage? Or the fact you have to search for it in wetlands and bottomland forests or along damp streamsides in late-February and March? Or could it be that it doesn’t really signal the end of winter, able, as it is, to thrive when there is still snow on the ground? Still, I think there is much to recommend skunk cabbage: it’s mottled deep maroon… Read More
Each year we wait. We count the days, watch the weather, complain, wait longer. Our patience stretched thin by the cold and by gray skies that are slow to yield to clear blue. Then suddenly, at last, we are surrounded by green. I can never keep up; never find time enough sketch or paint it all. Still, this year as in the past, it is a pleasure to try. Tips & Techniques– The window for capturing spring ephemeral wildflowers is very short– miss it and you have to wait a year. This page… Read More