ART WORK

Since DH and I spent the past few months working at summer camp, I didn’t have an opportunity to do any watercolor painting except for a few sketches.  Not long after our return I did a piece requested by a lady from just over the Teton Mountains in Jackson, Wyoming.

 My most recent undertaking started out with this value sketch.

 I transferred the sketch to watercolor paper and went to work.

Before long I had the forest underway.

 I started on the foreground and then decided I’d better put in the deer so I could add their reflections in the water.

This is the finished product.  I’m calling it “Energy Drink.”

 

 It is for sale on my Etsy site along with two other paintings I’ve finished in the last few weeks.

 This one is called, “Saturday Morning” and came from photos and time I spent watching kayakers along the Oregon Coast enjoying a morning away from their weekly routine.

 “Power Surge” is of a blustery afternoon near Maxwell Point.  The tide was coming in between the beach and the rocky islands bringing the roar of waves to add to the rushing wind.  Brown pelicans were scanning the surf looking for a meal kicked up by the surge.

WHEN YOU HEAR HOOF BEATS

Even though the sun seems to think it’s okay to sleep in and neglect its job of warming the morning air, I still get up early a few times a week and go for a walk.

 One morning last week I arrived at the river bridge when the sky was lighting up with a glorious sunrise.  I regretted the only camera I had with me was my cell phone. Although it did a pretty good job of capturing the moment.

On I tramped, following the river road with my mind wandering about when I heard a galloping sound.  Well, of course I thought it must be horses.

 It sorta looked like horses.  But I pulled out my cell phone and grabbed a fuzzy photo when I realized it was mooses not horses.

 Dang! If I’d had my Nikon I most likely would have a clear photo of this momma and her calf stopping to see what scared them out of the trees. 

They hurried off into the willows and disappeared down the river.  I walked on and didn’t see anything else remarkable.

SO…this morning when I decided to go along the same path, I grabbed my camera with the zoom lens so I would be ready when I heard hoof beats.

 The big Hunter’s Moon had spent the whole night lighting up the sky and was heading for bed.

By the time I arrived on the bridge, the sun was painting the sky with another brilliant sunrise.  This time I could capture the tip of the Grand Teton in Wyoming poking up just behind the Big Hole Mountains.

 I got a few more shots of the sunrise and, as the sky grew a little lighter, I carried my camera down the road where I’d seen the moose the week before.

 The pink sky reflected in the pond where a flock of Canada geese were taking a break on their trip south.

 More geese were already up and on their way.

Only gooses, no mooses, no hoof beats, not even any horses waited for me as I walked down the road.

 By the time I turned for home the moon was settling down and giving up the day to the sun.  Yeah, even though I didn’t get to shoot a moose or two, it had still been a good walk and a good start for the day.  

GIFTS FROM THE SEA

Just west of the city of Tillamook, Oregon I discovered a little town called Oceanside clinging to a cliff overlooking the Pacific.

 Down a flight of stairs was a wide, sandy shore.  There I went to do a little beach combing while I waited for the tide to go out.  A few other explorers and dog walkers were already there enjoying the quiet rush of waves.

 Some were launching kites in the ocean breeze.

I’d heard this was a place where agates could be found so as I walked, I kicked around through the seaweed deposited by the retreating waves just to see what would turn up.

The beach was long and I walked for quite a while finding little more than a few broken shells and some sand crabs.

I finally discovered a small agate among some gravel.

Then I found a broken compass, the kind that’s usually attached above the windshield inside a car or boat.  I rolled it around in my hand and dropped it in my jacket pocket.

A few minutes later I met a man walking and chatting with a boy who looked to be around six, judging by the gap in his grin next to a brand new grown-up tooth.  He carried a gallon-sized plastic bag almost filled with shells, crab legs, chunks of drift wood and pebbles.  The breeze ruffled his sandy hair as he looked up to see who I was.

I retrieved the broken compass and held it out.  “Look, I found Jack Sparrow’s compass.  See, it doesn’t point north.”  The dad grinned as the boy looked to him for assurance.  “Here, take it” I said.  “Maybe it will help you find what you want.”

The boy gazed at the gadget while his dad reminded him about Captain Jack and his pirates of the Caribbean.  I also showed them my agate, wished them a good day and went on down the beach.

I’d brought along my camera and took a few reference photos of the sea, the birds, and objects scattered about by the outgoing tide.

 I found a still life arranged by Nature on the sand and used reference photos to reproduce it in this watercolor when I returned home.

“And then, some morning in the second week, the mind wakes, comes to life again. Not in a city sense—no—but beach-wise. It begins to drift, to play, to turn over in gentle careless rolls like those lazy waves on the beach. One never knows what chance treasures these easy unconscious rollers may toss up, on the smooth white sand of the conscious mind; what perfectly rounded stone, what rare shell from the ocean floor.” --Anne Morrow Lindbergh--Gift from the Sea