What... Chicken Butt!
UmberDove
Seriously, who hasn't said it? And yep, that's what it is. No other reason for this post than showing you one amazing chicken butt. Miss Pearl the Silkie Chicken wishes you a great Fourth of July.
Blog
Seriously, who hasn't said it? And yep, that's what it is. No other reason for this post than showing you one amazing chicken butt. Miss Pearl the Silkie Chicken wishes you a great Fourth of July.
Day number One
UmberDove
... is always the best. I have been thinking about this painting for the last couple weeks, mulling over the concept, thinking about color, envisioning imagery. And then, while I was down in California, I had a break through and knew it was time to start painting.
June 18th, 2008
Last night we drove along the coast,
The moon was full and dewy
and I found my tree.
She looked so prosperous, she was surrounded by so much new growth
Where before, the rock had been cold.
In the water I found the colors I had been searching for
but did not understand
The most brilliant buff coupled with a rich blue-black
One flowing into the other.
Last night the moon taught me how to paint
Watching her full reflection slithering
across black night waves.
June 18th, 2008
Last night we drove along the coast,
The moon was full and dewy
and I found my tree.
She looked so prosperous, she was surrounded by so much new growth
Where before, the rock had been cold.
In the water I found the colors I had been searching for
but did not understand
The most brilliant buff coupled with a rich blue-black
One flowing into the other.
Last night the moon taught me how to paint
Watching her full reflection slithering
across black night waves.
Open Up
UmberDove
I'm not going to lie to you friends, I have been "on one." What with the painting and drawings and sewing and throwing-things-about in the beautiful craze of artistic creativity, I almost forgot to slow down long enough to appreciate the things that have been inspiring me.
Until I looked out my window and saw this. I swear that the Divine speaks to me through this tree. Broad leafy green in the Summer, arching, twisting branches in the Fall, dusted with pristine white crystals in the Winter, and heavy with the most exquisite cherry blossoms in the Spring. So I took a deep breath and just stopped.
And then thought I should show you some of the other things that I have taken note of lately. I mentally collect images as I experience them, then file them away along with a memory of what my other senses experienced to be called upon later. So while I could explain just how the wind on the Puget feels on my skin and how the setting sun was still too bright for my unshaded eyes, it may be easier to show you this picture and let you imagine the experience.
This day, a ferry ride and a garden walk with my D, feels summed up in the perfect veins of these huge leaves, the chalky feeling of birch bark, and the musky scent of warm magnolia trees.
So my advice (and I promise, I'll try to follow it too) is to take a second to look around and appreciate what makes you smile. What was the last thing that inspired you?
Until I looked out my window and saw this. I swear that the Divine speaks to me through this tree. Broad leafy green in the Summer, arching, twisting branches in the Fall, dusted with pristine white crystals in the Winter, and heavy with the most exquisite cherry blossoms in the Spring. So I took a deep breath and just stopped.
And then thought I should show you some of the other things that I have taken note of lately. I mentally collect images as I experience them, then file them away along with a memory of what my other senses experienced to be called upon later. So while I could explain just how the wind on the Puget feels on my skin and how the setting sun was still too bright for my unshaded eyes, it may be easier to show you this picture and let you imagine the experience.
This day, a ferry ride and a garden walk with my D, feels summed up in the perfect veins of these huge leaves, the chalky feeling of birch bark, and the musky scent of warm magnolia trees.
So my advice (and I promise, I'll try to follow it too) is to take a second to look around and appreciate what makes you smile. What was the last thing that inspired you?
Sticks and Stones are My Bones
UmberDove
Camping, part II.
I did a lot of sitting by the river, letting the clear mountain water strip away the banality of my stress. And I picked up sticks. Long straight ones, shorts curved ones, all washed clean by the river, all bright shining in the sun.
When my collection was great enough (and yes, they were perfectly organized by size and shape) I began to build. Meditative processes work for me like a labyrinth: As I progress, I leave behind the noise in my head and move toward a state of quiet in which I can acknowledge the spirituality of a place. Distractions no longer exist, in their place a beautiful recognition of space takes over.
When I was finished, the nest remained (through the rest of the week, each day disintegrating a little as the wind striped off the tiniest of twigs) and I was left with internal calm and great thankfulness.
I did a lot of sitting by the river, letting the clear mountain water strip away the banality of my stress. And I picked up sticks. Long straight ones, shorts curved ones, all washed clean by the river, all bright shining in the sun.
When my collection was great enough (and yes, they were perfectly organized by size and shape) I began to build. Meditative processes work for me like a labyrinth: As I progress, I leave behind the noise in my head and move toward a state of quiet in which I can acknowledge the spirituality of a place. Distractions no longer exist, in their place a beautiful recognition of space takes over.
When I was finished, the nest remained (through the rest of the week, each day disintegrating a little as the wind striped off the tiniest of twigs) and I was left with internal calm and great thankfulness.
Rejunvinated by Redwoods
UmberDove
With a sigh, I am home. My soul feels full, replenished, but a little saddened by leaving the giant trees which surely house my heart. Because I feel a short of words to tell you about my trip, I will leave a list I wrote one day while camping.
June 19th 2008
Today I...
Listened to the wind ruffling the rhododendrons (and thought of Devon). Thought there is nothing more truthful than a great Redwood. Saw the newest growth of a swordfern, all tiny fingers, kinked and uncurling. Loved the word "opportunist" when applied to a Steller's Jay (who knew they made so many different calls?). Realized how much I was like a Redwood Sorrel, bright and shining in the shade, full of color and stimulation, retreating, folding up when the sun's rays beat down too severely. Felt the welcome of the trees, an embracing of kinship. Felt the warning of the trees, where I did not belong. Counted four footbridges, all rustic. Conversed with a rabbit, greeted a chipmunk, startled a quail, respected a raven.
