Black and White show at River Arts

In this season of snow and darkness, the River Arts Gallery in Damariscotta has put together a remarkable show of artworks in all black and white, and gray. Some are photographs, some are sculptures, many are drawings, some are paintings or other kinds of wall art. But it is a great show, even allowing for my pleasure at their having included two of my works, which are below:

Called Big Snow, I painted this with gesso, acrylic paint and inks while the snow was blowing outside my barn windows.

Called Figure V, this was done with black oil paint and Q-tips, on yupo paper. Yupo is a new paper made from recycled plastics, kind of like white board. But if you make a drawing and don't like it, you can simply erase it all no matter what the material. But if you do like whatever you've created, you must put a spacer between the paper and the glass over it, or else it will smudge. While this drawing is far from perfect, it has some power to it, so I've left it as is, and it's in the show along with Big Snow.

In the meantime, in lieu of driving through the snow to Vermont for New Year's, I have spent the last two days painting all day! Tomorrow I will venture out into the snow, and go to Vermont with skiis, snowshoes, warm clothes, and new camera!

a sad and difficult day, after a beautiful fall

It leaves me nearly speechless, this latest bit of brutality committed by a young man with weapons and body armor in an elementary school. And, after a lifetime of avoiding the issue which ruined my ex-husband's political career, I think that I will make sensible gun control my dying issue.
Some background: I grew up where guns were not present though they were all around in Orono, Maine. People would always bring my father some venison, or moose, or even bear meat every fall, because he did not hunt though many of the men he worked with in the woods, did hunt. I went to Girl Scout camp, and then to a bigger summer camp in Sargentville, Maine, and learned to shoot a 22. I shoot well still.
My former husband learned to shoot in Vermont, and while he did not hunt, he did own a left-handed 22, and eventually, a shotgun that I gave him to keep the raccoons out of the chicken pen. When, however, he was elected to Congress, on a whim and without talking with either his staff or me, he signed on as a sponsor of a semi-automatic gun control bill. It was a decision with terrible consequences for him, and nearly for me and our 3 sons, although in the end I had to support his position.
In large measure, I made the decision to move to DC because of the harassment that both my sons in public schools, and myself at our home in the country, suffered. While nothing bad happened in the end, people would drive by the house and point their fingers at me. People watching us in parades would do the same. In the schools, several teachers spoke ill of my sons' father.The State Police had to be called one night after several threatening phone calls were received.
So, we moved and all of a sudden I understood the difference between guns used for hunting, and guns that are used primarily for killing people. My youngest son was 10 when we moved to DC. He and I were quite used to watching the evening news while eating supper. As a politician, his father was rarely home for dinner, and was often in Vermont, on TV news, so we were used to watching. In DC, however, David stopped watching the news. It was all about all the crime in DC rather than politics, and I began to see the difference in guns.
It has been impossible to articulate that difference with the NRA all over the issue with threats and money, and too much bull. But it is time to get on the bandwagon to stop this killing. We do know what to do - to control access to all guns reponsibly, to sell only after background checks are done nationally. Perhaps we should also restrict access to body armor also, since these latest killers all wore lots of body armor. But this is not Afghanistan! though we seem to be eager to let our young men own the weapons of war here at home.

It is time to make some changes! Please!

sandy colors

Hurricane Sandy was multicolored down here in Maine. The sketch above was done quickly before the last high tide which would have got me wet while painting. Now, the surf is diminished and the power lines are still up. But you get the idea.
Unhappily, color was not the issue down off Cape Hatteras, where HMS Bounty sank. Although 14 of her crew members were rescued by the Coast Guard, one crew member died, and her Captain remains unfound. Here in Boothbay, the Bounty was a fixture last month; her masts stuck up proudly, above what we might call our skyline, while on the ways at the Shipyard. Everyone here has had some contact with the ship or her crew, and we are all very sad.
Images of Sandy from now on, will undoubtedly reflect this sadness... even as I make a bigger painting from this sketch...

a new launch!

the tug, Winslow, will pull the new tug from her cradle....

and she won't get stuck like the first one I watched 3 years ago...

and then, she's in...

by herself...

she's really quite cute, as a tugboat goes...East Boothbay is proud, and there'll be some celebrating tonight!

Stewardship and Snow Showers

Our first frost happened two nights ago, on the very evening we had the opening for the Art in Maine show at the Art Foundation in the Harbor. "Snow Showers," the painting above, was juried in, and though it won no prizes, I am very pleased with its presence in the show. Several people have asked for giclees of it, so I will make 3-4, and see if I can sell them.
It is painted directly onto raw linen, and has a very textural, 3-D feel to it, which Dan Corey has called regal. I like that, and hope that because the paint is embedded in the fabric, that it will hold its tone and color for a long time.
Non-profit institutions, like art, have the same preservation issues - if you don't find enough money, you soon run out of creative material and/or helpful efforts. Tom Dewey, at our local congregational church, has challenged members of the church to multiply our "talents", as in the "parable of the talents," by handing out envelopes filled either with a heart candy, $10 or $20. The challenge is to multiply whatever is in the envelope, or, of course, you can bury it.
I got an envelope with a $20 in it. I have put it into a peanut butter jar with a hole in the top, and am collecting money to begin an emergency fund at the local food pantry. In one short week I gathered over $176, so now I have put $100 in one jar, and am working on getting the remaining $24 for the second jar, and will just keep going until the Sunday in November when we have to bring it all back in and report.
I am learning some interesting lessons while I do this. At a community gathering recently, I got out my jar at the end of the meal and went around asking people to "empty your pockets to fill a belly." I got a fair amount of money and was content to sit back down and eat dessert, when the fellow next to me started asking me about how we handled "freeloaders" at the Pantry. I was a bit offended, not really knowing any freeloaders who were receiving  food at our pantry. So I gave him a cocky reply about not getting many homeless men at the pantry. He gave me a look, knocked on his glass, stood up and announced to the crowd that I had not made $100 quite yet, and we needed to do that before anyone went home. Amazingly enough, people came flocking over and coughed up even more money, such that we made $135 or so dollars in just that one night.
I remain amazed and very grateful to the Boothbay Harbor Yacht Club for their generosity.

moose work

I had such a good time at Daicey Pond in Baxter State Park, under the shadow of Mt. Ktaadn, that all my pics are quite cheerful...enjoy...

Ledge Falls is a series of wonderful, gentle falls over very smooth granite ledges. They are crowded with people sliding down them in the summer. This day on late September, they were gorgeous, warm and sunny, but not tempting to swim down.

This is Sandy Stream Pond looking up at the two great basins of Ktaadn. Pamola Peak, named for the Abnaki's evil god, is on the left, and is the northeastern end of the Knife Edge.The Knife Edge goes from there to the middle peak, which is the tallest and is named Baxter Peak, though the Abnaki's called it Ktaadn, for the good, kind god. The Saddle extends along the western side of the mountain.

I was painting this little pic when the bull moose came upon me. I remain very grateful that he did not choose to destroy me and the painting! But it is good moose territory!

This is Ktaadn as seen from our Daicey Pond campsite. It is much more representative of what the mountain actually feels like. It is very big, like the moose, and is often very intimidating. Its weather is unpredictable and highly changeable. But Percy Baxter did a wonderful thing for us State of Mainers when he preserved it forever wild. We are responsible for ourselves when we are visiting the Park, whether climbing or fishing or painting. We pack everything in and everything out.

I remain a bit anxious over my encounter with the bull moose, though I know they are generally not aggressive. Even so, all by myself, in rutting season, I felt quite vulnerable and definitely not in control - which is what the Park is good for remembering!

close encounters with mooses

This lovely cow moose welcomed 4 of us artists to Sandy Stream Pond in Baxter State Park last Thursday. Munching her way towards us, here she is considering her next move - towards us or across the pond. She opted for across the pond which was good since we were close to her, and it is rutting season. After this confrontation, we artists separated - 3 went to a rock facing Katahdin, but in the wind. I went to a small viewpoint, close to the water where I could sit in my chair, and behind some bushes, protected from the wind. I sat there happily painting for a couple of hours. Several clumps of people came by during this time, so I thought nothing - at first - of the sounds of clumping footsteps.
As they got closer, however, I also heard some munching sounds, at which point I began to think that what was behind me was not human. I carefully put down the little painting in a protected place, and turned my head around to the left. I was staring into the eyes of a huge bull moose, whose snout I could have patted. If I thought, I cannot remember what. So I slowly stood up, so that whatever might happen, I was at least looking eyeball to eyeball with him.
He was on the trail; I was at the side of it. I stood there, thinking to myself, "OK, Mr. Moose. I'm yours now."
If he had decided to come down the trail, I would have had to step backwards into the pond. But after staring at each other for a while - God only knows how long that was - Mr. Moose decided that I was not what he wanted, and he carefully went around me, and some bushes, then back onto the trail. Here he is:

Note the pulled back ears! He was still a bit worried about me, but not half as worried as I was. He was BIG, with a good sized rack!
Later that afternoon, as I was tottering back to Roaring Brook Ranger Station, I saw two moose in the woods, attempting to mate. I went from tottering to scurrying at that point, and was quite glad to get back to the Station.
Moose are not generally aggressive, except in rutting season which is now. I can remember my father coming home from a timber cruising trip, and telling a story about getting chased up a tree by furious bull moose. Perhaps it was my dad's testosterone that wound up his bull and my lack of it that kept my moose calm. Who knows? All I know was that I was at his mercy; he was way bigger than me and could have stomped me easily if he'd wanted to.
I am very grateful that, for whatever reason, he decided that it was better to chase after the cow we saw earlier that day, than it was to do something about me.
These encounters were the emotional highlight of my 5 day trip with 3 artists, led by Suzanne Brewer, artist in residence this summer at Baxter Park in the North Woods of Maine. We camped in a cabin at Daicey Pond, where I had been as a child with my cousin Jeanie. We painted each day at different places - Ledge Falls, Sandy Stream Pond, the eastern end of Ripogenus Gorge, always focussed up at Mt. Katahdin. Some times we went out of the Park and onto the Golden Road, a road built by the logging companies across the north woods. Most times we painted inside the Park, cooked dinner, visited with Charity and Dean Levasseur, rangers in the Park, and went to bed only to get up again at 6ish, when it got light and we could make it to the outhouse without flashlights. It was a fabulous time; the Park is a special place; the mountain is a very special mountain. But beware, you might confront a moose!

Crystalline Blue: the perfect ending

Last Sunday, I took some friends out for a sail. There were more sailboats out that day than practically any day last summer. It was a perfect day. Like this extremely blue 'postcard' above, it was crystalline blue that day, too, with a NW breeze blowing 10-15 knots, which of course, dies down in the late afternoon.
We sailed down the river with the tide, out towards Fishermans Island, passing near the Hypocrites to check out the seals, then down the Thread of Life to check on the osprey nests, and around Witch Island. I do love the names of things! Then we went back up Herring Gut and through the South Bristol bridge - a very narrow, wonderful old swing bridge, and across the river to check out the new Bigelow Lab, and home again.
It was quite spectacular. You could almost see Mount Desert Island from the bay. You could certainly see Monhegan, Matinicus and the Camden Hills. But we saw only one seal, no porpoises and no whales. I think they're still farther up north, or maybe there were just too many boats out that day. I have seen all of them in the places where we were last Sunday, and, except for the seal, I missed them that day.
But when we got back to the Marina, we sat in the sunshine for a bit drinking some beer, and eating Triscuits, on the boat. Then, unwilling to give up the pleasure and the sunshine, we walked over to Lobstermans Wharf, and ate supper - fresh oysters from the very river we were sailing on, crab cakes and lobster rolls.
I cannot conjure up more pleasure than what we had that day. So I've decided that it will be the last sail of the year. I cannot imagine a more perfect sail in October, so out the boat will come. She needs some work on the mainsail rig - its rolling furling isn't working well, and the traveller is stuck. So we'll work on it for a bit, and then haul her out. Friends think I'm crazy to give up the possibility of more perfect sails. But I prefer the memory of this one, this year.
I will search for another perfect sail next year.

'East Beirut' in an open studio

"East Beirut" is the name of this 'postcard.' A composite image of East Boothbay, I found it when I was cleaning up and getting organized for an open studio on September's First Friday here in Boothbay. I dug it out and refreshed the inks with some watercolors, and here it is. The name, East Beirut, dates the original to the days of the Great Water Main Project in 2009-2010, when a camel resided on my lawn, and East Boothbay was called Baghdad West. But the water is flowing happily now, so we have sunk back into the ordinariness of being East Boothbay.

'Postcards' is what I called this show. They are just simple images of places and things that I have started 'en plein air' with Tombo pens and inks, and then finish in the studio with watercolors. Included were Sumurun and Oliver Weyant, all colored up now, and Damariscove's Outer harbor which is still a bit rough...plus some Fishermans Island summer and fall light pics, one of which is at River Arts now...

What really seemed to galvanize people, however, were some of my old Squares, painted for the 'Art in the Square' Christmas show, plus some drawings that I am really into at the moment. The squares are mostly dinghies and dories, in sunsets. One sold - hooray! But the drawings were what held big interest. I have not made any photo images of them yet, though there are some early ones on www.artcollectormaine.com. But I will soon.

One has to be careful with drawings of nudes, both male and female, and even ordinary images of people. Even Westerners don't always like to be identified in portraits, cartoons, and photos, including me! But other people seem to like my images of people, so I will try and take some interesting photos soon.

real work?

I've been playing with some of the images of the summer. This one, for instance, I drew while sitting at a picnic table in Shipbuilders' Park here in EBB. Then, I took it home and have tried adding some appropriate color. I'd love to ask you who are reading this blog, 

which image do you like better?

It's been a busy summer ( I just finished canning my first batch of tomatoes) but there has been time to work on my "postcards," images which I like to do en plein air. I enjoy making these images, sitting outside and working small has a very Zen-like quality. But they don't always achieve the level of high art - hence, I call them "postcards."

This image of Fishermans Island is a different style. I've used just my Tombo pens and a watercolor brush to wash the image once it is drawn.The trouble with the Tombos is that the ink fades radically if placed in even indirect light. So these images become some of my best giclee images, which do not fade. The trouble is that people don't understand the difference here between an "original" which might fade in a month, and a giclee print which will stay intact for years. So I just continue making images, scanning them into the computer so I can print them when a giclee is wanted.

In the meantime, I try to catch the beauty boats whenever they show up in a place where I can see them. Here is Sumurun, a lovely big boat that sails each year in the Shipyard Cup, in early August, here in Boothbay Harbor. The fog was a problem this year, so I have no gorgeous photos, only this drawing of Sumurun, tied up at Hodgdon's yard here in EBB. She's a pleasure to see. 

busy, busy summer

This little sauna building is on an island called Ristisaari in the Finnish archipelago, in the Baltic Sea. Two weeks ago, I returned from the island to Helsinki, having spent three days on the island happily drawing (soon to be shown), having saunas and eating splendid meals cooked on a grill on the porch of the main cabin on this little island. When we weren't sauna-ing or sleeping or eating, we went visiting other people on other islands all around the bay we were in. It was quite idyllic.

This island trip was part of a longer trip to Finland to visit friends from the Queen Mary trip in 2006. Two years ago, Raili and Markku Pimia, and Pirkko and Simo Helander came here to East Boothbay to visit (and fish) over Labor Day weekend. This year it was my turn, together with Jane and George Metzger, to go to Finland. It was a wonderful trip. We don"t know where the next gathering will be, but there will be another!

Perhaps Alaska????

Here is the main cabin on Ristisaari. Like most rural buildings in Finland, it is log, with a big main room, a kitchen off the main room, and a bunk room in back of the kitchen. It is about the same size as the smoke sauna we used at Kierke, the lodge we went to in the lake country. A smoke sauna is one of the gentlest saunas you can imagine, though it sounds tough. In a largish log cabin, a brick fire box sends its smoke up through the rocks piled on top of the fire box. The smoke heats the rock and fills the room, but as soon as you pour water on the hot rock, the steam banishes the smoke (somehow), and you are left with a moist, gentle, very hot sauna, after which you go jump in a lake, or the Baltic Sea.

Finland was not just about what we did in the countryside, or out on the island, there was also Helsinki, its design flavor and the wonderful piano concert we had from Juho Polhonen. But more about that later. Coming home I was faced with the need to paint an Adirondack chair for the Y fundraising auction on August 24th. I had decided to try painting a plaid pattern, but had no idea how time consuming it would turn out to be. It took me 4 1/2 days to paint this puppy, and I would do it again only for an exorbitant amount of money. But I am pleased with how it looks, even with the pattern diversions.

enough for now...I've made dilly green bean pickles already from the garden uber-abundance, and must continue to try and catch up to the garden, which languished with the weeds in my almost 3 week absence. The raspberries are gone into the neighbors' freezers I hope, but the blueberries are still just coming, and a fine crop it is, too. The cukes are in full production, as is the zucchini, the lettuces and beets. Tomatoes are jusy starting to ripen, but hopefully will not allow the weeds to smother them. At any rate, there's work to be done, and paintings to be made of this wonderful summer... Happy trails to all of you...

amazing summer

Last week I spent on Damariscove Island, whose harbor you can see here in early evening. The Boothbay Region Land Trust owns the island minus the old Coast Guard Station you see here at the mouth of the harbor. Each summer, two caretakers reside on the island for 10 days, then they get 4 days off. Over this Fourth of July week, they had five days off and Marianne Reynolds, Commodore of the BH Yacht Club this year, and I were substitute caretakers for the week.

It was a glorious week though the weather was not perfect. The birds were numerous, especially yellow birds - warblers and goldfinches; the composting toilets worked they way they should; we had plenty of good drinking water which we brought with us; the muskrats were not so numerous that they bothered. The red ants, however, were pesky. They were imported from some boat sometime in the last few years and have taken over some sandy parts of the island. They are a good lesson on how difficult it can be to maintain a balance on an island when a new species of predator - bug or otherwise - is introduced. Chickens seemed to help a few years ago, when caretakers brought them out for their stint on the island. But we had no chickens to bring.

Still, the weather was glorious one day, and it brought many people out on 12 or so boats. They cycled through the tiny harbor with some grace; kids played on the beach and swam like crazy for the water is warm this year; I got to play harbor master and trash collector in a courtesy dinghy. The little museum was open and got a lot of visitors, and kudos for the information there.

That night though, was the full moon. I slept on my boat and woke at five in the am, at dead low tide, to some bumping - not a happy feeling aboard a boat. Peering out of the hatch, I faced the lowest stones of the large stone pier in the middle of the harbor, and realized I was hitting the edge of those stones, albeit gently. Looking out toward the 3 sailboats anchored at the mouth of the harbor, however, I realized that one of them was aground and teetering on the rocks. The people on the boat knew what they were doing however, and waited patiently for the tide to come back in, and the boat floated off in about a half hour. It made for an exciting beginning to an otherwise gloomy day - our only one.

Gloomy days on an island far offshore have their own pleasures. A good book or two, and hike in the fog made our day passable, the birdsong our NPR. A few lobster boats came in to restock their lines with more pots, so we asked if anyone had any lobsters for sale. There were none that day, but the next day, which dawned foggy and then cleared, Bill Hallinan brought us 4 not so soft lobsters for lunch. We sat in the sun on the little cabin's deck and ate them, cooked in seawater, and nothing is as delicious as lobsters eaten that way!

Our stay ended the way it began - with glorious weather, early in the morning. We sailed ever so quietly on very little wind, back into the bustle of Boothbay Harbor. It was an extraordinary week.

Can hearts be broken with pleasure?

My heart nearly broke with pleasure today as I received the top two images from my son. They are images my two oldest grandaughters painted in school this year. Their artists' statements clearly elucidate their paintings, and I quote here from Merry's statement; she has the topmost image:

"I guess the painting/drawing stands for nature. The reason its called The Cross because you can kind of see a cross. That part stands for peace so it kind of stands for Care For the World." I rest my case...!

The middle image is Sarah Kate's; her statement is as follows:

"My Grandma inspired me to do this picture. She loves painting sailboats on the ocean. She has tons of paintings of her in her studio. So this is why I painted this painting."

If you are not a grandparent or wish to be one, perhaps you will not understand the power of their images and words. But they overwhelmed me with gratitude for them, and for my son and his wife that they have raised these two so well, so far. It is not a simple thing to raise kids to be happy, productive citizens. I did pretty well, as well as I could, and they seem to be doing the same. My heart leaps with pleasure again.

The bottom image is one of mine, whose color seems to work well in this blog. It's another version of my Monhegan workboat series. It's not a sail boat, but the color does work well here!

work hung at Ports of Italy, St. Andrew's Family Center, and River Arts in Damariscotta

It's beginning to be a lot like summer, if the rain would ever stop. Paintings that have hung, exposed, in places all winter long, are being changed out; new work is being hung all over the Harbor and up in Damariscotta. These two Valentine veges, which hung for a bit in a restaurant in Baltimore, are now going to hang in Ports of Italy, a wonderful Italian restaurant in Boothbay Harbor. Two other "postcards," 'Sunday Mass' and 'Ocean Pt summer' will also hang there, but I especially love the veges, particularly Parsnips a la Chagall (above).  But the carrots, called "Heart's Desire" is also a favorite. In that series, the 'Heart hidden in a Leek', and the 'Onion', both now belong to friends in Baltimore and Vermont.

In St. Andrew's Family Center, 3 small "snow" paintings are hanging now. They are a sequence of paintings of birch trees and a pine tree in a blizzard. I quite like them and hope to do more of them.               

And at River Arts in Damariscotta, I have a drawing of "the last vine in the row", done at the Antle's ranch in Soledad, California. It was juried into a show on Flora and Fauna, and I love that one, too. 

I have to complain a bit about the new organisation of this blogging site. I think sometimes, Google and all the other info techno companies have to keep changing things just to keep their people working. For us users, however, it often feels like - just when I've mastered something, it changes. And it gets frustrating. I liked the old format for the blog as I could see it as it was developing. I don't need to change the background or anything. It was simple and often elegant, or so it felt to me. In the meantime, bear with me as I undertake yet another learning.

Happy Mother's Day!

Fishermens' Festival!!!!

This year's Fishermens' Festival was COLD! 38 degrees when I left my house at 9ish this morning. The ocean was slightly warmer at 41 degrees, but that did not stop the tykes from running the lobstercar races. The early runners stayed mostly out of the water; it was only later that they began to fall a lot. The guys in the Whaler rescued them. But, clearly, as soon as the kids got their feet wet, they slowed down and that was the kiss of death. This race is one where it pays to be light on your feet and fast!

The lobster car race is my favorite. But the others are fun, too, to watch. The high schoolers dress in boots and waders and race around a block holding large codfish. The sternmen of the lobster crews race each other shovelling bait into barrels. Other school kids bail dinghys. Lobstermen themselves race their boats to haul, bait and toss back 6 traps in line, starting from the docks. And then there's the tug of war - a real Scottish-type one with a long hemp line and many people on either end. How they choose up sides is still a mystery to me, but it never seems to matter who wins. It's all a good time.

Later we will all enjoy too much food and drink. There's a fish fry, lobster bake, a new raw bar with oysters, shrimp rolls and coffee. I'm off now to take my chowder to the church chowder and buckle supper. (If you don't know what buckle is, around here it's made with blueberries and a biscuit-like dough, on which you put ice cream. Not that I am eager for ice cream after the chill of this morning!)

Tomorrow, on Sunday, there will be a public reading of the names of local men who have been lost at sea, followed by a Blessing of the Fleet, a long-time tradition by the clergy of this town. The fleet parades by the Catholic Church, the closest to the water, and blessings are read, said, and sung. This year has a poignancy to it, because one of the grandfathers of the fleet, Earl Brewer, was lost off Spruce Point in a fog this past week.

So here's little Matt Duncan running 6 times back and forth from dock to boat to dock again, for a total of 243 cars. He didn't win, but he set a high standard for the rest. His brother, in street clothes no less, only made it to 206 before he fell in!



waiting for forsythia

In the gray green gloom of early spring, I have been waiting patiently for the forsythia to bloom. It has - finally. In my impatient moments, I painted the birch tree with its tiny buds. I could not wait for the blazing of the forsythia, but now that it is here, I cannot find the right paint to express how eagerly it blazes. I will someday.

The forsythia was blooming in Portland, just 40 miles away a month ago. Even just 15 miles inland it has been blooming for several weeks. It is the first time that my proximity to the ocean has inhibited, rather than encouraged, plants to bloom and grow. Though the spring - everywhere it seems - has been warm and even hot at times, the ocean's nearness has moderated my miniclimate, and my forsythia has just now bloomed. I recommend patience. The forsythia is putting on a spectacular show!

The tulips are also beginning to bloom as are the daffodils. Even though the snowdrops have been in bloom since January, having larger flowers showing up, with their bigger colors, has been welcome. I have not painted flowers in a few years, like I was painting them in California, and I am eager to paint them again. It is a different flower painting tradition here than California, and I will try and interpret my East Coast flowers as if they grew in California, under an Asian influence.

The tulips I planted last fall were planted for the wedding of my son, Dan. His fiance wanted tulips for her wedding on Memorial Day weekend. Alas for them, the winter and spring has been so warm the tulips are blooming in April instead of the end of May. Unlike the forsythia, they could not wait! So for now, the wedding will be full of lilacs instead of tulips, or perhaps even peonies. Who knows what weather will happen now? Lucky for Dan and Lindsay, they are adaptable! Patience, like the forsythia's blooming with the tulips, can bring its own reward!

where I was, in the trees by the sea

This little house in Carmel, California, is where I spend my several weeks each year in late winter. For as many years as I have been going out, I have wanted to capture the effect of light filtering down through the old oaks on the street here. This year I finally tried and think I've done a credible job without getting too specific. The trees are not all that ancient but have a way of surviving without much attention, and of being very protective of the land and people beneath them.

I wish I could say more powerfully how important it is for us to understand that we are the only stewards of the earth with the knowledge and power to keep the earth sustainable. Who else can rescue us? The trees, the whales, the wolves, perhaps the roaches or other sorts of bugs can outlast us but will they have the sense to attempt to balance one species with the others in some kind of harmony? I think not. It really is up to us as a species to recognize how important to our wellbeing trees are, how they need to be 'harvested' from time to time, for our fuel and their health, just as we are.

When I do my training walks with new docents at Point Lobos State Reserve, I try to make the point that in knowing how man has interacted with the environment historically, we can make better decisions in the present. We ignore the past at our own peril. The Point Lobos area is a great example of both the good and bad aspects of our interactions with the environment. But so is Maine. The recent decision to allow some development in the Moosehead Lake Region, called the Plum Creek development, is a story of the political process working to balance development with a sustainable forest economy - I hope. At least something has been decided; now all we have to do is wait and see if the economy will actually 'allow' the development to occur!

miracle whales

Three weeks ago, I went off to Monterey, California. It is a trip I make every year at this time; I return to a place I lived for nearly 15 years to see friends, to attend a scholarship fundraising auction at Cal State Monterey Bay, and to train new docents and stand watch at Point Lobos State Reserve.

Two weeks ago, I stood watch at the Information Station at Point Lobos; the station overlooks Sea Lion Point and Cove, and massive rocks just off Cypress Point. The Esalen Indians called this place, "the brink of the earth." It is a place that American poet Robinson Jeffers called, "the greatest meeting place of earth and sea." Each year the gray whales pass by, 'within spitting distance' of the rocks. They do this not once but twice, on their way south from the Bering Sea in Alaska to the gulf of Baja California in the late fall, where they have their babies. They return - even in February - from Baja, taking their babies north to feed in the Bering Sea once again.

That Sunday, as part of the early migration north, more whales than I could count moved north past the sea lion rocks off Point Lobos. The mamas and babies stopped in the quieter waters of the Cove, and fed their babies by lying on their sides. They spy-hopped; they flipped their tails; they were more active and happy than I have ever seen them. Grays are not as outgoing as humpbacks, but they were pretty 'flippy' that day. It was a breathtaking sight.

So it was with some eagerness and my usual scepticism that I went to see the movie, "the Big Miracle" tonight. I confess I cried when Bam-Bam died and chewed my fingernails when the ridge of ice was discovered, and was gloriously relieved when things came out right. It is one righteous movie! Go see it!

what a difference a day makes!

In the winter here, Mark Mellor runs a drawing group at the Boothbay Harbor Art Foundation on Tuesday mornings. With my broken right arm, my operative arm, I wondered how I was going to deal with this. The drawing to the left is a product of my left hand. What I discovered was that I could draw with my left, but the result was looser, more 'painterly', and often more interesting than what I was doing with my right hand.
I don't know if that's because my right brain - tied to my left side - is 'looser,' or if my left brain - tied to my right hand - is just more precise. But that is what I learned about my 'handed-ness.' Now that the cast is off and I'm not even wearing a brace much, I'm going to try and do more stuff, using both my left hand for the big image, and my right for the more precise work. We shall see what develops.

On the note of doing more artwork, I was asked to join the River Arts Gallery in Damariscotta, and become part of the online gallery, Art Collector Maine, or www.artcollectormaine.com. It is sponsored by the Maine Home and Design Magazine, and has a quite brilliant strategy for marketing artists, and making them more available to collectors without charging a commission. Us artists are very excited about this website, and hope it expands our audiences. So check it out!

The days, finally, remain spring-like one day, and then turn winter-like with quite vicious temperatures on the next. The snowdrops are still up,but today their heads are drooping. The temperatures are down nearly to zero here beside the water. When there is no snow, as is true now, the cold seems even harsher. But still, it's better here than inland. Across northern New England the temperatures have fallen down below zero with quite nasty wind chill factors. I am glad to be beside the sea. Drawing pictures of a lovely lady with a yellow straw hat, is a delicious way to imagine a very different wind chill factor outside, at least on Tuesday mornings. And tomorrow, we are promised higher temperatures!

It's still January and...

my snowdrops are blooming! 'Galanthus' are usually early, - really the first to bloom, - but I have never known them to bloom in January! I hope this does not mean a prolonged winter/spring when mud season doesn't end until May. On the other hand, it is quite wonderful to have snowdrops blooming in January!

The rest of the world looks troubling, what with Syria still in turmoil and Egypt flexing some mustle in retaliation for the suggestion that we might withdraw aid to its military. Iran is ever difficult, and Israel refuses to act responsibly to its Palestinian population. Ron Paul begins to look like a solution, though we know from history that isolationism does not work. Still, some withdrawal from the world's theatre begins to feel necessary. There is still much work to be done at home vis a vis infrastructure and renewable energy, if our grandchildren are to have a future as good as our past has been.

So I shall pay attention to my gardens, my family and friends, and do my best to vote for people who have my same concerns. I don't yet know who they will be, but elections will come sooner than we expect - like snowdrops in January.

fierce and passionate beauty

"Snowshowers" is one of my favorite images. In the grayest, blackest and whitest of weather, there is always a bit of blue somewhere - either in the sky or in a shadow. Usually it is seen through a veil of white, but it will be there somewhere.

Lately, I have felt a bit like this small island. Life has been either black or white, and always seen through a veil of snow showers. Now, I feel a bit of the blue, and while the blues are not usually a relief. In this case, the blues are just fine. Adding a bit of color to my life has freed me from the frozen waste I've been in for 5 years. I will not melt again very soon; it is after all, January. But the New Year holds the promise of color - a welcome addition to my life.

the joy of owning an old house

I spoke too soon about the end of the year 2011. My old Whirlpool frig gasped and died that very day, melting a year's worth of garden veges and freezer jam, plus sundry other stuff. Then came the New Year weekend, so it wasn't until Monday, the 2nd, that I could shop for new frig's.

The first difficulty was finding one which would fit into the cabinet space. I don't need a large frig, but it did need to fit into a space 30" x 68" maximum. Going on line, I managed to find 4 models at both Home Depot and Loew's, only two at Agren's, the local appliance distributor. So I went back and forth that Monday between Loew's at Cook's Corners, and Home Depot in Topsham negotiating price, delivery costs, and times between the two of them. Home Depot won out because it could get me the frig today, vs. Jan. 24th at Loew's.

But today it arrived, and wouldn't fit into the kitchen!!!!!! My kitchen has a great many wonderful handcrafted features, all carefully built into an old kitchen. But the doorways have been sacrificed in size to the joys of beautiful craftsmanship. The logical doorway to take out the old frig and bring in the new, should work by itself, but it is compromised by a clever corner cabinet that reduces the opening to 25" wide. The old, let alone the new, was not going to fit in or out of that.

So I called my contractor, who after conferring with the delivery boys, decided that they could leave the new frig in the dining room. Bill Dighton will come in on Friday to take out the other kitchen door frame, bring the old one out via the dining room, and install the new one in the kitchen - finally.

In the meantime, it feels like I still have a dead body in the kitchen, while the dining room fills up with strange, dysfunctional sculptures. The old frig does not smell quite as bad as it used to, because Nancy Adams came and helped me clean it out. But it still smells a bit. At least the new one doesn't smell bad, just like new plastic. 2011 went out with a big bang and a plop; 2012 started out well but it seems there's still a bit of a hangover from 2011 with the cast on my arm and the frig in the dining room! What's next I wonder?