Found Poetry

LK Ludwig posted a found poetry prompt on her blog on 2/6/09 to create a poem from the words on three scraps of book text and work it into your journal. Here is my interpretation of her exercise, taken from the pages of an 1860's ornithology textbook. Rather than put it in my journal, I created a journal "bottle" to illustrate my poem:

In winter,

Dark, without the exquisite hue of spring birds
Silky, silvery white feathers contrast

With the dingy, less-pure colors of the season.
Restless, active little forest birds,
Picking bugs out of cracks in bark,
A quaint and curious song

Recalling a titlark in midsummer

Be sure to visit her blog and check out everyone's links and read their found poetry, as well. Enjoy!

A Weekend at the Coast

Sunset at Lincoln City

A curious seal

Sun break on the ocean

Siletz Bay tree

Happy dog chasing the seals

Crow's feet

Lincoln City Beach

Another sunset view

***

I just returned from the Central Coast of Oregon where I took a class in Writing and Selling Nature Essays at Sitka Center for Art and Ecology. The class was taught by Melissa Hart, a professor at University of Oregon, who also teaches an online class in memoir writing for University of California, Berkeley. Her class was amazing - she taught so much in a short six hours and was very generous in sharing her resources. Eight women from Oregon and Washington, some new to writing, others already published, attended the class and shared stories together in this peaceful and remote area, with a stunning view from every window. We learned that vision is our strongest sense and tends to dominate our stories. So we left the classroom and went outside into the trees and closed our eyes to hear the birds and the distant thunder of the ocean waves, used our fingers to feel the soft, velvet moss on rough tree bark, and used our noses to smell and taste the salted pine air and pungent loam beneath our feet. After the class, I drove to Lincoln City and walked the beach, searching for treasure and enjoying the sun as it set behind a fog bank. After spending the night, I left to explore other beaches in the area, stopping at Siletz Bay where I watched a happy dog chase a herd of sea lions off their cozy sand beach and into the cold waters. All too soon it was time to go home, but rather than my normal route, I chose to meander slowly through the slow back roads, exploring towns I had never been to before and did not know existed. There is so much of the world we don't know and miss in our travels over the interstate. Yet, in these places, history is alive and once experienced, stay in our hearts forever.

Life in the Not-So-Fast Lane

I still remember moving day seven years ago, when I left Boise to start a new life in Vancouver, WA. I was SSOOOO excited because I was moving to the coast (okay, it's almost the coast - much closer than Idaho) and I had visions of long, meditative walks on the beach every weekend and frequent hikes on the wooded Columbia Gorge trails breathing the cedar-scented air and sketching the abundant waterfalls. I DEFINITELY did not give ANY thought to snow. In fact, when one of my friends asked if I was going to load the snow shovel in the moving truck, I laughed hysterically and told her that I would certainly not need that where I was going. After all, I was moving to a place where snow knew its proper place - the slopes of the nearby mountains. Oh there was a bad week four years ago when an ice storm kept me homebound for a week, but it was just one week.....until this year. We have already had more snow in the past two months than we have had altogether in the last six years. In fact, it is the snowiest year since 1950 and we still have half of winter left to get through.

I carefully watched the weather forecast and breathed a sigh of relief when the weatherman said snow flurries as in a light dusting of snow - as I left for work, a few snow flakes began to fall and I admired their lazy float to earth - I could feel the tension slip away in the zen of the moment - but then the pace picked up a bit as I left to meander my way to the freeway - the flakes began to multiply, as if they had invited all their extended families to fall to earth on this fine day - and then they began to stick and cover the road - I feel myself slipping and sliding at stop signs and by the time I reach the freeway, three miles away, I am in a veritable blizzard of a snow flurry.

I'm a little freaked out - I am NOT a happy winter driver - but I think, once I reach the freeway, all will be well, because in Idaho and Montana, that is the first place that is plowed and maintained. Not here. The freeway is a mass of snow and ice and very nervous drivers, like me, in my little Saturn that has normal everyday tires. It does not take long before my knuckles are a gossamer white and my face a waxen green. We are moving at a fast clip - 10 MPH - cars are off the road being attended by stout tow trucks with merry flashing lights that make you want to say, "hey knock that off - this is serious out here!" - then I see the crumpled remains of a four wheel drive truck that apparently failed the invincibility test - this is when the pleading starts - please oh please oh please let me get to work in one piece - the car has only been paid off for one short week - oh please!!!

An hour later (with a normal drive time being 20 minutes in high traffic) I arrive in the relative safety of my parking lot and I can finally breath again. By that time, two inches of snow flurries coated the ground. As I gathered myself together and started the work day, I stopped to wonder - why didn't I consider a career as a meteorologist? Where else could you be so wrong, so many times, get paid well and still keep your job? Surely there must be a position out there somewhere.....anywhere.....as long as the snow knows its place and stays in the mountains.

Encaustic Class

I've dabbled in encaustic before, but today I took a class to learn the ins and outs of using colored waxes from Kimberly Kent, who creates fantastic, impressionistic landscapes in wax. Three students managed to cover the tables with wax as we created our "masterpieces". We used the conditioned wax and later carved back into the wax and filled our lines with chalk pastel for greater detail. I have a lot to learn in this medium, but was pleased with what I produced in a two hour time span.

Hoarfrost Morning

Woke up to a fairy tale world today. Everything in the yard was coated with the delicate feathers of frost crystals, shimmering in the light of dawn. Even the most mundane objects were transformed into glistening jewels fit to be worn by the Fairy Queen. It did not last long in the rising sun, but for a moment, there was magic in the air.

Amphibians and Reptiles

Here is my latest painting for the Nature Gathered challenge. Watercolor on hot press D'Arches paper.

Alex the Desert Dog

I have an Australian Shephard I adopted from the pound five years ago. He is an amazing dog and as a companion, you could not ask for better. But Alex hates water. All forms of water. Especially if it falls from above. Bath time is a disaster and always done outside where he has a running chance of escaping and I avoid mopping up copious quantities of water dumped on the floor when he attempts to escape.

But it's cold outside. And Alex picked this date to sneak into the garbage and forage around for goodies to eat that even my cat, Amazing Grace, turns his nose up at. If it remotely smells like food, Alex will eat it. With sometimes disasterous results. Such as today, when his bowels wrecked vengenance on his stomach's insatiable need to eat. I heard the telltale whine that signals an emergency request to be let outside - too late - he had annointed my new wool area rug along the entire eight foot length. At which time he turns to me and does a very good imitation of the Marley Mambo - oops, mom, sorry about that!

Never fear - I have carpet cleaner especially for these embarrassing moments. After carefully covering my hands with impervious rubber gloves, I decide to read the instructions - not something I do often and now I know why. The instructions state, "Not for use on wool rugs" - well, Alex did not hit the linoleum. He did not even poop on the carpet I would so dearly like an excuse to replace. No. Only on the wool rug. But when push comes to shove, what's a few spots on my rug compared to the mess that is currently filling my house with an aroma that appears to result from eating something that had decayed for at least two weeks. Probably rolled his eyes in ectasy while he ate it. I ignore any directions I might have been foolish enough to read and start scrubbing.

Once the rug is clean, I return to Alex who is looking at me with forlorn eyes and a hanging head because he KNOWS what comes next - his entire back end is covered with unmentionable nastiness and he has to be washed before he can have contact with anything in the house again - and it's cold, did I mention that? I can't wash him outside....so, I know I am about to undergo the bath from hell with the dog that hates water in my bathroom. I get what I need and get the water running in the tub. But Alex is ahead of me on this one. He hides. I find him and drag him into the bathroom and close the door. He stands and looks at the tub. I stand and look at the tub. Will this 60 pound dog willingly step into the water? Not if his life depended on it.

Now comes the dance of the drenched....I pick up his front half and put it in the tub - I reach for the back half, and as I lift it in, the front half has escaped. This is repeated a few times until I realize that the only way he is getting in the tub, is if I lift him in, climb in after him and straddle him with one hand on his collar while I desparately try to get his hind end wet and soaped. This is easier written than done. Soon I notice that I have more water on me than he does. And you could put koi in the pond that has formed on my bathroom floor. I finally manage to do the wash and rinse and make the mistake of letting go of the collar to turn off the water. Whereupon Alex promptly jumps out of the tub and shakes to rid himself of the hated water. There is now enough water on the bathroom walls to create a steam room.

But Alex is happy. He no longer stinks, he has a nice cushy, warm bed to lay down in and I am so busy cleaning up, he knows he is out of the doghouse for now.

Merry Christmas!!

Merry Christmas to you all and may the New Year bring you good fortune, good health and many adventures!! I hope Santa brought you all that you wished for!!

A Cold Little Hummer

It's taken a week to catch this hummingbird sitting still long enough to take his picture. I would never have believed that a hummingbird would stick around in temperatures that have rarely reached freezing over the past week, but here he is. I have been rotating two feeders in and out of the house to make sure he has access to unfrozen nectar. What a wonderful winter treat!

More Snow

Woke up to a beautiful, snowy day and called in for a vacation day to enjoy it. We don't get many snow days here in the Northwest, but have had more than our share this year. Instead of struggling to work on icy roads, I decided to take a moment to appreciate the rare beauty of a landscape trimmed in the most delicate of lace, lazily floating through the air and perching upon objects that were once ordinary and now a work of art. Our birds are not used to this weather (below freezing for days at a time), so I have made sure the feeders stayed filled and have been rewarded with visits from house finches, Oregon juncos, Anna's Hummingbirds, scrub jays and my resident squirrel, still playing with the cat through the window. I thought I would share a bit of their day with you. Enjoy!

Baby It's Cold Out There

Couldn't resist posting the photos I took this morning as the artic storm came through SW Washington - the wind is blowing so hard that it temporarily took the curl out of the squirrel's tale.

Cat Television

For weeks I have watched this squirrel through my patio window. He watches my cat watch him, fully knowing that he is protected by the window. And every now and then, he runs up and slaps at the cat's face through the window and then runs away. The cat, not nearly as bright as the squirrel, immediately leaps for the squirrel, slams into the window and then looks very puzzled as to why he can't get that squirrel. I tried several times to photograph them, but my digital camera does not shoot fast enough to catch the moment. So I decided to bring them together in Photoshop for my Fauna assignment for Nature Gathered. This is a composite of two photos, taken just minutes apart, blended with the watercolor brush and color adjusted.

The Summer Day
Mary Oliver

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean-the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down

-who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed,

how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

A Day of Sharing Words

I just received this notification on my Photo Art Journal Yahoo group, passed on by Michelle Unger from LK Ludwig. LK has had a great idea of having a poetry exchange via the blogsphere. on next Wednesday, November 19th. If you want to join in, the instructions are as follows:

We have words that touch us, move into our hearts and resonate, creating a feeling, taking us some place- past, present, future- perhaps some place we have never been and may never go, but for whatever reasons, the words pulse in our blood. Meeting new words, new poets, new poems, new ways for my heart to beat, is an intruiging concept. Want to go on this adventure with me? It will be easy to travel along.Many of us already do this sharing; this idea is just to help us find each other and hear the words we have to share.

The Date:
Wednesday, November 19.

The Plan:
1. On your blog, post a poem that moves inside you, touches you, reaches you. (quotes and song lyrics also welcome). Include the author (or composer or musician) and source (book, album)- perhaps also the Amazon link if there is one. no explanation required, no other revelation about the poem you are choosing is necessary. One last thing- Perhaps add an image. a photo. a video. a painting. a collage., if you would.

2. Come here to this post on L.K. Ludwig's blog.

3. Add a comment with your link and L.K. will create a typepad page with the links, so others can hear the rhythm of the words, see the image and share in the experience.

The Request:
If you are intrigued enough, post on your blog about this Day of Sharing Words- encourage your friends to post. Who couldn't use a few new poems in their treasury or new songs in their hearts?

A Walk in the Woods of Lacamas Lake

I went for a walk in the woods today...oh, not the proper forest, as I could still hear the clap of golf balls being hit on the adjacent course and see the McMansions through the trees....but even so, as I entered the canopy of mixed deciduous trees and Douglas firs, I felt the burdens of civilized life fall away. I drank in the visual banquet around me - leaves in all shades of gold and brown, the burnt umber of the tree trunks, the deep rich green of the moss, the pale white of the berries and rich red of the rosehips. Small mushrooms with steeple tops littered the ground in places looking like fairy lanterns that light the way along a secret path. I could hear a chorus of frogs at the edge of the water and the birds above sang a sweet and melancholy melody telling of the winter ahead. I gethered moss covered twigs and pine cones for art projects that will occupy my time during the cold, grey days ahead. The lake level was low, exposing mud flats not normally seen and the water birds were absent from their usual backwater feeding spots. Though it was only 4 PM, the sun had already begun it's descent, sending weak hues of rose and lavender to tint the clouds near the horizon. I head back with a peace of soul I have not had in days. As I near the parking lot, a young jogger passes by, heading in the opposite direction. He grinned widely, grasping a single long-stemmed red rose in one hand and as he ran by, my thoughts drifted to the young woman at the end of his path, clasping his rose to her heart - her eyes filled with wonder and the stars of the evening sky.

Menucha and the Gorge

I love fall - the colors of the season so bright they almost hurt your eyes. The crisp, cold mornings with a fairy dusting of frost across the lawn and the smell of wood smoke as folks fire up their fireplaces and wood stoves. I don't even mind raking leaves, as long as I get a chance to play in the leaf piles.

Once again, I returned to a weekend at Menucha - nestled in the forested hillside above the Columbia River, it is the perfect place to rest, recoup and make art. This retreat was special as we were allowed to bring guests and several talented artists joined us for the weekend. We stayed at Creevy complex this time which afforded us a much larger workplace, warmed by a fireplace and the company of good friends. The Gorge was spectaculary beautiful, decked in all it's fall glory - gold and orange and green against a sapphire blue sky made quiet walks on the grounds a breathtaking event. The weather cooperated, a miracle at this time of year here and we had clear skies without rain for the weekend. On the last day, a high wind came out of the east, bringing warmer weather and the music of trees as they swayed together in harmony; the leaves falling and gathering in every nook and cranny.






Cradled in the midst of the forest is a labyrinth built this year with a rock mosaic at its center. I was lucky enough to walk the labyrinth at one of the rare times I could do so alone. The walk is meant to be meditative and as you pace the maze, your mind calms and all things seem possible, if only for that short time.


At the edge of the property is a stunning view of the Gorge and the Crown Vista house - built during the Depression, it was just recently renovated and is worth a trip to see - as far you could see down the Gorge, the shores were lined with fall colors, contrasting sharply with the deep blue of the river. As I sat and enjoyed the Columbia vista, I was treated to the sight of a woodpecker flying across the sky directly in front of me and Stellar's Jays squabbling over the chestnuts that littered the ground. Deer grazed the grounds and squirrels seemed to be in every tree.


My 8 X 8 challenge was "Field Notes" for October, so before leaving, I stopped to sketch the vista, as well as a chestnut, pine cone and leaves, - memories I can take out and snuggle into during the grey, wet weather ahead.

Art and Soul

Thank you, thank you to all my wonderful students in my classes!! I so appreciate you taking my classes and even hanging in there when the lights went out!! I have always been blessed with great students, but this year was exceptional. Please forgive me for not posting my thanks sooner but I have been exhausted since A&S ended and trying to catch up with all my deadlines I set aside to get ready for my classes.

I took four classes myself during the week: felting with Gayle Crossman Moore, Copper Enameling with Richard Salley, Dream Pouch from Donna Crispin and Be Still my Beating Heart from Lisa Kaus. All four classes were great taught by instructors who were adept at teaching their subject and generous with their materials and time. I would recommend taking classes from all of them and I was so pleased with what I created in class.

Lisa Kaus' Be Still My Beating Heart (except I failed to follow instructions and created a pumpkin cat instead...)


Dream Pouch from Donna Crispin's class

It seems incredible that you wait with grand anticipation all year for Art and Soul to arrive, but when it does, that week goes so quickly and you never seem to get the time to chat with old friends and get to know new friends better. And now another year of waiting.....I am already looking forward to seeing you all again! May your year be filled with art and peaceful journeys and may your muse always be with you.

Boise and back again

I managed to carve five days out of my increasingly hectic schedule to take a short trip to Boise to visit my son. It's about a seven hour road trip from here to there. You follow the Columbia River east for the first 160 miles. First, through the verdant forest of the Columbia River Gorge, then on to the stark rainshadow desert area beyond The Dalles, OR where this most beautiful and blue river meets the amber grassed, but treeless hills of eastern Oregon. The contrast between the river and desert is unexpected and amazing.

After leaving the river, you travel through the hot and dusty area between Boardman and Pendleton, OR where the wind blows hard across the harsher landscape, no longer featureless as several windmill farms now dot the area with their sleek white blades moving electricity to points beyond in rhythm with the wind.

The stark landscape does not last long as you move into the beautiful, Blue Mountains and the dry pine forests of the area. This is the gateway to the beautiful Wallowa area, full of trails and lakes. As I climbed the steep hills, I wondered how the pioneers were able to drive their slow and clumsy Conestogas over the hills to the promised land at the end of the Oregon trail. Essentially the freeway follows the Oregon trail all the way to Boise and there is a wonderful museum in Baker, OR that focuses on the trials and tribulations of those that traveled the trail. Imagine traveling through hostile lands and facing death each day to start your life in a country you only know through word of mouth!

Between Baker and Ontario, OR, you meet up with the Snake River, much different than the Columbia. Meandering and shallow, home to an amazing array of migrating and breeding birds. What a breathtaking sight to come around a bend in the road and see a flock of snow geese resting in the river! Pelicans and several varieties of ducks joined the geese in searching the river for food. Hawks and eagles fly overhead in the heat thermals that rise from the hills.

At the Idaho border, you again, pass into the desert and the speed limit increases to a swift 75 MPH - you barely register the land around you as you speed into Boise. I lived in Boise for six years, but hardly recognize it now. The growth in the last few years has been tremendous. But the city is beautiful, surrounded by hills and divided by the Boise River, flowing through the heart of the City of Trees. In the summer, kayakers and innertubers float the river, while joggers and bikers ride the adjacent 22 mile greenbelt.

I stayed with one of my art friends and her husband. She graciously allowed me to accompany her to her monthly art group meeting. A delightful group of artists in a variety of mediums: watercolor, photography and pottery among them. They meet monthly and assign a theme for each meeting. Each artist completes a work of art that reflects the theme and then shares it with the rest of the group at the next meeting. It was amazing to see the breadth and scope of the art that reflected the theme that month, a still life of meaningful things.

The next day, I embarked on a moonlight kayaking trip down the Payette River. A group of about 13 folks kayaked and canoed down the river in the evening and camped on an island of sand for the night. We sat around the campfire and admired the Harvest full moon as it traveled across the sky. We shared our trip with George, the cat, whose owner lets him ride the bow of his kayak. George obviously enjoyed the ride, although he was careful not to touch the water, leaping from boat to boat to reach dry land. In the morning, we set out again on the river until we reached the Black Canyon Reservoir, where we pulled the boats from the river. The river was like glass as we floated, enjoying the sight of heron, hawks and a lone beaver who moved gracefully and quickly through the water. A trip I will never forget.

And of course, seeing my son again was a boost I sorely needed. It's so hard to have him so far away. Even a lengthier visit would not keep me from feeling blue as I said goodbye to him and headed back to Vancouver again. He is, by far, the best part of my life.

Now, back to frenetically getting ready for my classes at Art and Soul. YIKES!!! Only two weeks away....

Cicada

I am in a art challenge with several other talented artists called Nature Gathered. For the next year, we will complete an 8" X 8" canvas with the medium of our choice, all with a nature based theme. I thought I would share my August creation with you and invite you to visit Nature Gathered over the next year to enjoy the interpretation of each month's theme by 15 different artists:

CICADA

As a child growing up in the Midwest, the droning buzz of the cicada brought anticipation of summers to be and memories of summers past to mind. So this composition came together as tribute to those hot and humid summers, catching tadpoles in the creek, swimming in the lake, riding in the car with the window down for air conditioning, dreaming on the lawn in the evening and the flight of the fireflies at night. I used Golden Liquid acrylics, mixed with their new line, Open Acrylics (they stay wet much longer, allowing more painterly affects). The design was free-handed based on a textbook photo of a cicada and memories from my childhood. Enjoy.