Art Challenge: Sticks

When Tammie of Beauty Flows chose the theme "sticks" for this week's art challenge, I knew I had to jump in! I love sticks - in the woods, on or off of the trees, in art, or laying in a pile in my studio. Here are a few of my favorites.

 Snow and ice accumulated on these sticks in my yard to make a lovely black and white abstract...

 Sticks with seeds overhanging the Kinniconick Creek...

 I used a smooth bleached stick from the creek in this mixed media piece called, "Flight Talismans".

 Sticks outlined in the light of the super moon...

 Weathered, twisted sticks on the sand dunes at Cumberland Island.

 My friend, Mish, trying to hide behind some bamboo sticks.  Not working too well.

Indigenous

Years ago, I used to make sculptures from sticks, grapevines, rocks and copper. This was the only example I could find. The background is a topological map of a region in Kentucky that is very important to me, the rocks, which have seeds or flowers of indigenous plants glued onto them, have holes in them and are hanging on - you guessed it - sticks.

 Sticks from a tree submerged in the Kinniconick Creek...

 Beech sticks still hold onto their leaves in winter...

A redbud tree in bloom...

Do you think that's enough, yet?  Thanks for inviting me, Tammie!  Go to Beauty Flows to see what the other participants came up with!

This Fall at Shabo-Mekaw

If you're a regular reader of my blog, you may recall that we had a bad storm this Spring, which brought a "micro-burst" (which I believe is like a small tornado) that took down several of our huge oak trees.

 Five or six of them were laying across the drive, and were just too large for my husband and I to handle, so we got a logger to come in and remove them.

Loggers only take the main trunk of the tree, however, so we were left with a lot of this kind of mess to clean up.

Larger branches were cut into firewood, while smaller ones were burned. Let's just say we won't need to cut firewood for a very long time.

 The log cabin looks so strange without the trees that used to frame it. To the left of it were two white oaks and a black oak.One of the white oaks was dead, and they were both very close to the cabin, so we decided to have them both taken down. During this process, the black oak was hit by one of the white oaks - which we knew was unfortunately very likely to happen.

The place looks even more naked because we had them cut a huge pine which was only a few feet from the front door, and had had most of its branches torn off by the fall of a tree across the driveway, which had been blown down in a storm a couple of years ago. Though these were all prudent measures to keep the cabins from being damaged, it still looks to me as if something important is missing. I'm sure I'll get used to it, though, in time.

We haven't had any rain to speak of for a while, and the water level in the Kinniconick is very low.

On this day, the weather was perfect - the sky a clear azure blue with a few puffy clouds, the trees beginning to reveal their fall colors.

These are plentiful down by the creek, and are actually kind of pretty - until you start trying to pull them out of your dogs' fur.

Cardinal flowers always grow near the creek in the late summer to early fall, the brilliance of their color standing out against the grey rocks.

Looking up from the bottom of this huge sycamore tree, I'm struck by the light's effect on the changing leaves.

Here, I'm standing on the island, gazing across the "swirl hole" towards our little "beach". As it rounds the bend  and splits to go around the island, there is very little water in either branch.

Even the flowers that have gone to seed still have their own kind of beauty...

Walking up the creek, I was able to go much further than usual, and even cross it without getting my feet wet.  Normally, the rocks you're seeing here are under water.

Fall flowers are not finished yet, and I'm surprised by all the different kinds growing here so late in the season.

Arlo set up a big ruckus, as he stopped up ahead of me and began barking, growling, and whining at something on the ground. Knowing his hatred of snakes, I was afraid he had found a copperhead, and hurried, though cautiously, to where he was. You'll notice that, in true Arlo fashion, he has already rolled in something black and slimy. What he was barking his head off at was an evil, horrendous, dog-eating box turtle, and a rather small one at that. Sheesh! Apparently his fear extends to all reptiles in general.

Sunny and Arlo have crossed the creek to investigate and are on their way back. You can just barely see Sunny swimming in the distance.

These are a type of lobelia; I've forgotten which species.

A wider shot looking up the creek...

Turning to look down the creek toward the swirl hole...

I hope you enjoyed the sights here at Shabo-Mekaw on this gorgeous fall day. If you're interesting in finding out more about our beautiful country get-away, there are more posts here, here, here, here, here, and here.

Happy fall (or spring, as the case may be), everyone!

Reflections

You could say I wasn't having a good day. Without going into detail, I had messed things up, and was suffering the consequences. Feeling very anxious and "out of sorts", I headed down to the creek with my camera. Looking around, I saw the same landscape I had photographed a thousand times before. Nothing new or interesting immediately presented itself, and I wondered why I had even bothered to walk down the steep hill from the cabins above. It was hot, and about as humid as a steam bath. I stood for several minutes, watching my dogs swim across the creek and run around the edge of the island.

 At some point, I noticed the sound of the moving water, and started to relax a bit. The more I listened and looked, the better I felt, the presence of the creek beginning to soothe me as it always had. Nothing to take pictures of, I thought, but at least I can sit here and meditate. Suddenly the appearance of one of the dogs on the other side of the creek drew my attention, and as I gazed across the water, I was suddenly struck by the bright, almost neon green color of reflected vegetation on the water's surface.

It rippled and shone, in dazzling patterns, lines, and swirls as the reflections were animated by the movement of the water and the changing light. Mesmerized by the dance of light across the surface of the creek, I turned on the camera and began to focus on what looked to me like a magical, ever-changing abstract painting.

The patterns of shapes and lines were most dramatic where the creek rushed around a large rock. The closer I looked, the more I saw it not as water, but as shapes and colors.

The effect was hypnotic. In some ways, when I zoomed in closely, it didn't look real.

These photos are strait out of camera, and haven't been altered in any way.

Each image drew me further and further in, until I lost myself completely in the colored shapes and lines.

Water, light, and color can do some pretty amazing things together.

Things that we often take for granted, or don't even notice.

Further down the creek, I noticed this.

I'm glad I noticed. In the words of Mary Oliver:

                                             
Let me keep my mind on what
matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and
learning to be
astonished.

Weekly Quick Collage: Yellow-legs in Manitoba Slough

Yellow-legs in Manitoba Slough

collage, 7 x 5.5 inches

The love of wilderness is more than a hunger for what is always beyond reach; it is also an expression of loyalty to the earth, the earth which bore us and sustains us, the only paradise we shall ever know, the only paradise we ever need, if only we had the eyes to see ...  No, wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, as vital to our lives as water and good bread.                                                                                         
                                                                                                    ~ Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire

It is only when we are aware of the earth and of the earth as poetry that we truly live.

                                                                                         ~ Henry Beston, 1935, Herbs and the Earth

Transformation 45

I haven't done any pieces for my long-ongoing "Transformations" series in quite a long while, but was recently inspired to add to it.

Transformation 45

My "Transformations" series is strongly rooted in my deep feelings about the magic of nature, and when I look for words about nature, I often look to one of my heroes and favorite writers, Wendell Berry. I leave you here with some of his wisdom.



“The care of the Earth is our most ancient and most worthy, and after all our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it and to foster its renewal is our only hope.”



“It may be that when we no longer know what to do,
we have come to our real work
and when we no longer know which way to go,
we have begun our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.”



“So, friends, every day do something that won't compute...Give your approval to all you cannot understand...Ask the questions that have no answers. Put your faith in two inches of humus that will build under the trees every thousand years...Laugh. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts....Practice resurrection.”