Friday, August 22, 2014
What I thought was autumn's quiet creep around the wheel of the year was just an illusionist's grand trick. Autumn is far off yet. Today we'll reach 100, and tomorrow, and the next day. But the two varieties of creeping cypress we planted back in spring on our woodland arbor are loving the sun. We are trying to keep them watered well since rain has not visited in a while but these plants seem pretty hardy and probably don't even need our tending. The blooms are best in midday, drinking up those sunbeams in their red, fluted blooming cups. And the leaves, especially the broader kind, are mesmerizing, otherworldly with all their beckoning fingers. The twining tendrils are wild and reaching out for one another. I love this plant.
Monday, August 18, 2014
Today it is hazy, hot, and humid here in the Ozark Mountains. It hasn't been like this all summer though. We've been graced with a lovely, mild summer with rain here and there. Some evenings even dipped their toes into the 50s. Last week when it was cooler, a low fog crept onto our land at dusk just as the Grain Moon rose in the east. The Grain Moon, or Corn Moon, is the full moon of August named because now is time to harvest the bounty of summer - be it grain or corn or the other members of your garden. The moon was bright and the fog danced across the fields. By the time the sun had set in full, all the fog was gone. Autumn waits just around the bend.
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
|Heartwood - prints available here.|
Go, find your way into the Heartwood. It is here you will stumble upon yourself.
Heartwood is the strong, woody core of a living tree, increasing it diameter as the tree ages. It is stronger, darker, harder than the sapwood, the outer part of the tree that sustains life and conducts water. The heartwood, though technically dead, gives the tree the strong supportive core to hold itself up, to keep on living.
To me, though, heartwood is where I have found a home. A gentle, cradling forest. A prismatic canopy of greens. A forest floor abundant with life and decay. The older I get the more I appreciate wilderness, the more I earnestly need it.
A serendipitous walk through my woods resulted in this photo which is now for sale in my Etsy Shop. This is an opened seed pod of the Blue False Indigo wildflower floating in a puddle of rain on limestone. The forest is reflected from above.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Just finished some summer painting at Aurora Pet Salon. They just got certified to board your pets so now you can take that summer vacation with no worries. Check out the great works of Laura, dog-groomer extraordinaire, here. Located at 135 E. Pleasant in Aurora, MO. Call 417-678-2660 to schedule a beauty parlor visit for your pooch. And do toss them a campfire hot dog at least once this summer!
|Look Carefully: Rub a dub dub three dogs in a tub|
Friday, June 27, 2014
Monday, June 23, 2014
Saturday was the summer solstice. Everything was in peak bloom, the forest awash in a green heat. Summer solstice is the longest day of the year and beginning of summer here. On ancient calendars, such as the Celtic calendar, the day marked the middle of summer and is often still called Midsummer. Later, it became the feast day of St. John for Christians. Here in the Midwest, it always feels much more like Midsummer to me, rather than just the beginning.
The longer I make my home in these woods, I yearn to follow the rhythms of the earth, celebrate them, and become attuned to them. So, like many across the lands, we lit a bonfire and enjoyed the light in the darkness, a crackling wood percussion accompanied by a symphony of birds, night bugs, and frogs under an exceptionally starry night.
Friday, June 20, 2014
The trip before this one, I took several photos of my hands on things. This trip I took several of my feet in some of my favorite spots. I leave a trace, a track, a path, with my hands and feet as I travel and capturing this imprint in photos is just a reminder to myself where my boots have trodden, where I've scuffed my toes, across which stones I've ran my fingers across, into what moss I've plunged my fingers. And as you can see, I am a light packer and take only the shoes on my feet. These did the trick, waterproof, heel-less, & comfy. Also, they zipped up the back which allowed me to skip lacing them up again and again but also let me loosen them if my feet swelled or I doubled up on socks.
So here are some of my tramping grounds.
|Craigmillar Castle near Edinburgh, Scotland|
|The beach of pebbles and boulders at the base of Dunnottar Castle, Stonehaven, Scotland.|
|Traipsing through the tide on the beach at the base of Dunnottar Castle.|
|Walking upon Hadrian's Wall, Walltown Crags, near Haydon Bridge, England.|
|The stone floor of Hailes Castle, Scotland.|
|Hiking up the stream at Burn O'Vat, Scotland|
Monday, June 16, 2014
|View of Village from Cowbar Nab, a windy, seaside cliff head.|
Staithes is a sleepy seaside village in North Yorkshire, England on the Jurassic Coast, so named because of its wealth of fossils millions of years old. Staithes' most famous resident was explorer, Captain James Cook who may have picked up his penchant for wild uncharted seas here. Old town Staithes is built entirely on a steep cliff, the way you might see an Italian of Greek town on the Mediterranean. And if the sky had been blue and the sun blazing it would have resembled such a village. In the summer, this is probably a happenin' place but Staithes, under a curtain of cold, steady rain, was all but deserted.
Visitors must park up at the top of the hill in pay and park lot (I found you must pay to park almost anywhere in Britain) and then walk down the hill to the old village. The town is small, walkable (if you're up for some hills), has a few restaurants and art galleries, but we were there for the incredible views. We walked around the deserted streets for a bit then crossed to the other side of the harbor and made our way up to Cowbar Nab, a National Trust property open to the public. It is steep hill walk to get there and muddy, rough, and windy once you're up there. Do be careful - you are on a cliff. The view in one direction is of the wide ocean and cliffs along the coast. The view to the other direction is the colorful collection of cottages that make up the village of Staithes. It looks storybook, unreal, like tiny model houses of someone's dream out of some other time. With all of the daily trappings of the modern age, I relish moments that offer me a glimpse of another time, a simpler time. Staithes delivered this to me briefly; I had to snatch it from the sideways, cliff top rain.
|Staithes storied buildings and tiny alleys through which you can sometimes spy the ocean.|
|The quiet, cobbled streets of Staithes.|
|A lovely letter box on a door in town, wished I had something to slip into it.|
|Waymarker to Cowbar Nab near the entrance gate.|
|View opposite the village from Cowbar Nab cliff head.|
|View of village and harbor from Cowbar Nar cliff head.|
|View of Staithes Harbor at the base of the hill.|
|Church of the Holy Trinity, Goodramgate - a lovely quiet, green space surrounds this lovely little church open to visitors. No longer an active church.|
|Some fantastic wrought iron work down a York snickelway.|
|York Minster Cathedral - begun in 1220 and finished in 1427. We didn't make it into the cathedral but it kept revealing itself to us.|
|This way or that near York Minster.|
|Dean's Park, York|
|Ruins of St. Mary's Abbey - 11th century Benedictine Abbey in Dean's Park next to the Yorkshire Museum.|
Friday, June 13, 2014
The Shambles is a very old lane. Some argue it is the best preserved Medieval street in Europe, though some sources note that none of the storefronts are original. The street is mentioned in the Domesday Book in 1086 though many of the buildings date later around the 14th and 15th centuries. The cobbled lane is lined by old buildings with overhanging upper stories, lurching overhead as if they are growing up and over the lane. The overhangs cover the lane in shade. I wondered, have I stumbled into Diagon Alley?
Historically, The Shambles was called Fleshammels, meaning street of the butchers. Indeed, it was a street of butchers and the meat would hang on hooks in the shady recess below the overhanging second stories. Some of these hooks can still be found.
"The Shambles" is often used to describe collectively all the small lanes in the area and the snickelways snaking between them but The Shambles is actually just one street, a few blocks long, with Little Shambles street jutting off to the side (which lead to a nice little outdoor market). It was much smaller than I had imagined and lined with shops that were less intriguing than I wished (but I did kind of expect Ollivander's Wands and Flourish & Blotts). It was quite busy on a rainy March day. I hate to imagine a summer weekend in the Shambles full of sweaty tourists. That said, the area is definitely worth exploring, crowded or not.
At night, however, The Shambles is all but deserted. We explored The Shambles at night after a rain (and a few pints) and it felt as ancient as it actually is. The commercialism had gone to bed with the sun. Only lovers and lurkers and history remained.