"Sunset on The Crescent" monoprint 6 x 9 We did a long walk today, part of which involved crossing a high bridge. I kicked myself for not always carrying my camera. Today there were three shots I missed: the great blue heron hunched on a branch frozen into the river; the pattern made by winter maples against the snow; and the gin-clear water, stones gleaming through from the river bottom. Our house is constructed from such river-stones, their tones ranging from creams to raw umbers to oxide reds.
Winter has its own unique beauty although I do have more trouble getting good shots. There are few close-ups to be had, for one. Usually what draws my eye are the cobalt shadows in strong daylight (which we have had precious little of lately). The other winter jewel is sunset, whether reflected on the river or painted across the horizon. Usually I'm either a bit too early or a bit too late as our walks are often dictated by Jon's ETA. Somehow this monoprint of the tree line on our street managed to catch both: the low sun poured through and laid down those splayed blue shadows.
For a different kind of good time there is the feeding station just outside my studio window. Right now the redpolls and downy woodpeckers predominate, although the grey squirrels now excel at ascending the pole and wildly leaping to the "squirrel-proof" tube feeders, where the first one there fends off the rest of the queue while balancing on two legs. We go through a lot of sunflower seeds but it's a small price to pay for the entertainment.
Years ago I remember walking past such a feeder near the house and having the feeling that I was being watched. Taking a better look, I realized that a squirrel had removed the lid, lowered himself upside-down into the tube, and had momentarily stopped devouring sunflower seeds to eye me with terror. I had missed him at first because his colour morph was black and my casual glance had read him as a mass of sunflower seeds. Only watchful eye gave him away. I didn't have the heart to frighten him any more so I just walked away. When I went back later, he had successfully extricated himself, thank heavens. I had no desire to remove Fatso by his tail.
As luck would have it, I did have my camera, so before my strategic retreat I took a shot and sent it to the manufacturer. Never heard back. Funny, that.
Winter has its own unique beauty although I do have more trouble getting good shots. There are few close-ups to be had, for one. Usually what draws my eye are the cobalt shadows in strong daylight (which we have had precious little of lately). The other winter jewel is sunset, whether reflected on the river or painted across the horizon. Usually I'm either a bit too early or a bit too late as our walks are often dictated by Jon's ETA. Somehow this monoprint of the tree line on our street managed to catch both: the low sun poured through and laid down those splayed blue shadows.
For a different kind of good time there is the feeding station just outside my studio window. Right now the redpolls and downy woodpeckers predominate, although the grey squirrels now excel at ascending the pole and wildly leaping to the "squirrel-proof" tube feeders, where the first one there fends off the rest of the queue while balancing on two legs. We go through a lot of sunflower seeds but it's a small price to pay for the entertainment.
Years ago I remember walking past such a feeder near the house and having the feeling that I was being watched. Taking a better look, I realized that a squirrel had removed the lid, lowered himself upside-down into the tube, and had momentarily stopped devouring sunflower seeds to eye me with terror. I had missed him at first because his colour morph was black and my casual glance had read him as a mass of sunflower seeds. Only watchful eye gave him away. I didn't have the heart to frighten him any more so I just walked away. When I went back later, he had successfully extricated himself, thank heavens. I had no desire to remove Fatso by his tail.
As luck would have it, I did have my camera, so before my strategic retreat I took a shot and sent it to the manufacturer. Never heard back. Funny, that.
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