Down by the River...happily sketching!

Finally, a cool morning and off to the river for some quality time...I had plenty of time to think and dream and just BE.  This is my small Noodler's Creaper pen with DeAtramentis Fog Grey ink...

Not really wild if you're wearing shoes, but the new rubber sandals allowed me to wade on the gravel and sharp rocks...I call it a compromised win!  I felt like a kid, though...

The light was magical...

Joseph heads off downriver to fish--I actually outlasted him for once.  He walked home, I drove when I was ready...

No idea how this got turned up on end...I like to think a particularly hungry raccoon was looking for shellfish...

Driftwood shapes...you'll recognizes these last two in my sketch!

Ripples catch my eye...

Green July peace...

Wilding and Re-wilding and my spur to creativity--Day 25

I am rereading my own book, A Naturalist's Cabin; Constructing a Dream--this really is a re-wilding, then.  I miss the person I once was, 20+ years ago, and barely know her, now.  So young, so full of energy...

I wonder if she is still here, longing to break the shell of years and life changes--but yes, I know she is, in the recognizing and noticing and delighting in nature close at hand.

Of necessity, I am somewhat less active; my knees object to uneven ground so exploring my 18 acres--which are virtually nothing but hills and bluffs and deep valleys--in such detail is mostly an exercise of memory.  (The book helps!)

In part, this is why we built the shed in the lot we own next door to our house, and why we let nature have her way there...the desire, the need for the wild and a place to nourish and observe it, accessible in all seasons.  And flat enough to walk every inch of it!  Observing the small changes, rejoicing in the magic...

Though right on the edge of town, the shed is nestled in a small wood that joins with a much larger forest. 

This is my view along the path...

The path itself is very nearly overgrown...shady and private-feeling, though in fact it acts as a shortcut between the houses up the hill and the old mom-and-pop grocery on the edge of town.

The shed's lot is growing up into volunteer wilderness, as well...

One of my favorite journal pages, just come across in my files...

Yesterday's super-fast squirrel sketch--Prismacolor colored pencil and wash.  These guys often inspire me to grab my quickest tools and materials.

...and yes, wishing the book were back in print...it's a wonderful reminder of a special time.

**UPDATE, one year later:  The book IS back in print, from Echo Point Books!  Life is good indeed!  Here's the page of my books...

Re-focusing...

Giving myself some room, taking my time, just being.  Just being.  Just BEING.

A constellation of tiny green stars on the path to the shed got my attention...I've always loved the small things...

...and I remembered to look up, and marvel at the miniature flowers on the climbing vine--I thought it was a variety of vinca, as it has covered the ground nearby with abandon.  Little mysteries!

A patent-leather umbrella hiding under the brushpile...I almost missed it.

Loving the slower pace and closer attention...

Creativity, Simplifying, and "Jobligations"--Insights, Day 20 and 21

I have realized I am capable of turning every project into a job, an obligation, imaginary or otherwise...hence my new brand-new, freshly-coined word, "jobligation."  And in fact tend to do so.  It's a habit with me.

Just what this 31 days was NOT supposed to be.  I haven't simplified, I haven't stayed in the moment, I've only occasionally felt really part of the nature I was in.  Instead I have added one more project...and feeling pressured, as I have when I've taken on jobligations in the past.

I said I might not post every day, I said I might just share a sketch or a short poem, or a thought.  Or nothing at all...

...and then I made it a job--a discipline--to post a journal entry every day, taking photos or making notes, not so much BEING there as thinking what I'd put in my blog that day.  Creativity suffered as did mindfulness, and my goal got lost in the shuffle.  I recognized my tendency, again.

I've enjoyed it, I'm still enjoying it, but I am refocusing before it's too late on what this time needs to be, for me.

So now, two days' worth, and we'll see what else might be shared.  I'll still BE there, but making it into work...didn't work!

The bridge, with pigment from stones found just downstream...

A Japanese suzuri or ink stone works well for grinding small amounts...

Hematite and gum Arabic

My little rechargeable fan turned out to be a lifesaver, on the 20th...that day came closest to being what I had aimed for in the first place.

Recapturing a treasured memory of fresh peaches and long walks...20 years ago and more.

This journal page was a struggle...everything fought me.  My pen, the paper, which buckled on that humid morning, my watercolors...washes took forever to dry.  My colors were muddy...so NOT relaxing and fun...

In the heat and humidity, my materials fought me and detracted from the experience of BEING there, yesterday, contstanting distracting me...frustrating me...

Shoes off, glasses off, NOT trying to work...

Beautiful blue chicory...

Joe Pye Weed along the lane

And so, two days have gone by.  The weather was a big part of it...since heat exhaustion some years back I just don't handle heat well.  I hit the wall after yesterday's hotter, stiller, thicker morning, and spent the rest of the day reading, resting, drinking cherry water, and recuperating.  Listening to my body.  Listening to my heart, and my soul, and re-focusing.

Hot-morning wandering, Day 19

This is from last summer's explorations, a backyard Materia Medica...

I wander around doing a bit of wild garden maintenance while it is still cool enough to breathe, freeing the holly from the grasping vines of Traveler's Joy and cutting back volunteer Ailanthus sprouts where there is no room for a tree to thrive.  I am itchy and smell of Tree of Heaven, but it feels good to visit corners of our smallholding and offer love and gratitude.

My reward was the incredible cobalt blue dayflower, Commelina communis, with its two prominent petals and and one much less so.  It was named for 3 brothers, Dutchmen named Commelin.  Two became well-known botanists and the third died before he could contribute anything to the field.

The photo doesn't begin to do it justice...

I had forgotten what a useful medicinal it is...but given how little there is here, not so very common despite its "communis," I just enjoy its amazing color and smile a bit at its history.

When harvesting wild plants for our use, it is always best to take only a few and leave plenty for the Little Cousins, as well as for their own propagation--and that only if there is an abundance. I often satisfy myself nibbling a leaf here or there...

It seems to me that these wildings are much more rare than they were when I was younger...or I'm less willing or able to go too far afield to find them!  Sometimes I find a huge stand of jewelweed, useful for itching or rashes or the sting of nettles.  Occasionally in the early spring there will be a great plenty of wild greens.  But the huge brambles of wild berries, or stands of pawpaws or persimmons are more rare than they once were.  I am happy with a taste...

I love finding Indian Strawberries hiding in the grass and gill-over-the-ground, also called "mock strawberries"--Duchesnea indica (sometimes called Potentilla indica)--though not poisonous, they are dry and tasteless, unlike their distant relatives.  Those, I just enjoy looking at or sketching!

Our small front yard garden provides enough, without trying for wild edibles that are either tasteless or scarce...

Later in the day, stuck at a trailer place getting my Jeep wired (45 mintues turned into a bit more than 2 hours, with music that made me cringe), I passed the time sketching my husband...about ALL I got done that hot afternoon...

Day 16, re-wilding...life, and death, and the eternal cycles

"Missing people in our lives are like wounds we reopen with our thoughts." - Hunted, The Iron Druid Chronicles by Kevin Hearne ...and so it may be.

That is often true for me, in a life of change and loss--and finding again. But it's a normal and necessary part of life, and we get through it.

There is beauty in all the cycles of life and death; in nature, in the forest, this is especially so.  We have a plethora of these lacy leaves here, and I can't resist picking them up to study and use as prints and stencils and collage.

But still I do love that Nature will repopulate, heal, restore itself--if allowed to.  I am most blest when I can help in some small way in that process; it is a cycle that nourishes and heals me as well.

The Smallwood reclaims the ancestral forest that once covered this land--and I protect and aid it when I can, picking up litter, discouraging invasive plants, rejoicing in the burgeoning life, exploring the forest floor.

The air smells of the fertile green Earth--as well as the cycle of decay that makes possible a NEW cycle of life.  Leaves fall to earth, decompose, and become rich, life-sustaining humus.  When trees die, colonies of lichen and moss and fungus grow on their recumbent forms, breaking down the cellulose in trunk and limb.  The slow combustion of decay returns them to earth as well.

Just a few short days ago these little mushrooms looked like this...

They are among the quickest to return to the earth, with the aid of insect larva, moisture, and time...

Even the bones of deer and fish and small animals provide sustenance...I see the toothmarks of rodents searching for the minerals in the bleaching bones.  Eventually those minerals return to the soil to nourish new life.

Some indigenous cultures believe that vultures carry the souls of the dead back to Creator; huge black shadows swim through the sunlit leaf canopy as they circle above the trees, and I smile to greet my own departed loved ones.  Parents, sister, cousins, friends...I wish you peace and joy.

Weather changes, and so do I...Drumming, ancient crafts, Day 15

I was taken by the notion of making my own when I got to play and hear The World Drum, which has traveled all over the world, from hand to hand.  It has been played in ceremonies and quiet celebrations and riotous dancing, and seems a miracle of worldwide cooperation in these turbulent times.  It brings peace to the heart.

For more of its amazing story, read this from Morten Wilf Storeide.

My first still goes everywhere with me...

 

My drums absorb the moisture in the air, changing tone day by day, hour by hour--I sympathize!  The weather affecs me greatly as well.  Their voices become lower and lower these humid days--and less resonant--and finally, soft and flat.  I warm and dry them as ancient peoples have done for eons, and once again their voices rise and ring and resonate, each with its own mysterious song.

The rawhide still carries within it the life of the deer and elk that once walked the land; the wood of the rims was born of stately trees that grew tall and took nourishment from the earth...as do we all.

I have loved making my own drums...and will make at least one more.  The most recent I call my healing drum; the rim of ash wood reminds me of my ancestors and of Yggdrasil, the World Tree of old Norse tales.  The hide was a gift from a friend, who prepared it himself.  And each step of the process was meaningful, respectful, and sacred.  The big elk drum is the family drum...Joseph plays it too and loves the deep rich sound.

Each one is different, and sounds different.  Each has its own demands, and resonates in its own way. 

Day 14, Re-wilding--creativity in ancient ways

I love to explore how our forebears might have worked when creating art...discovering my own pigments, grinding and making paints, making my own pens or other tools, trying out natural dyes or inks...

Drawing with a twig dipped in paint or ink connects me to ancestors long gone.  They drew on cave walls and stone and parchment, I on paper made from plants--but still I sense them looking over my shoulder.

Hematite on a grinding stone...it makes a beautiful reddish brown color.  That's the hematite stone itself at lower right.

My palette of natural colors! 

This is the healing hand symbol currently on my healing drum...it's limonite I found in our local river's gravel bar.  I've since found a darker stone, perhaps a type of hematite like the one above, that I want to use, so may give it a try.  It's a good feeling to honor our ancestors and to use the kinds of tools they might have used.

I often use this river stone for smoothing, rather than reach for the sandpaper...

Check out Nick Neddo's book, The Organic Artist: Make Your Own Paint, Paper, Pigments, Prints and More from Nature, or Sandy Webster's Earthen Pigments; Hand-Gathering & Using Natural Colors in Art for much, much more.

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It was a honeysuckle, honeybee, and hummingbird kind of a morning and I loved sitting and working
where I could see these little visitors.

This little female repeatedly darts in for a taste, chittering each time, then draws away before chittering and diving for another taste.  None of the others seem to need to vocalize before drinking--perhaps she's giving thanks!

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Interesting, to me, the way my blog offers related posts or those you might be interested in.  I checked back on this one, on nurturing or killing creativity and found it relevant but ironic, in one way.

Though I am normally not one for challenges or prompts, I have taken on this 31-day challenge, and I DO feel a bit constrained by it, as I thought I would.

Still it is one I need, and it's deeper and more personal than most, and completely self-directed--letting the days unfold as they will, grateful for what they offer me. 

(And if you're interested in what DOES nourish my own creativity, that was the post before, here.)