The Salamander is the Dream of Water

In the warm and breezy afternoon, I took myself into the studio to work with 

spirals. Thinking this drawing was like lichen clinging to stone, a short something 

came to me. 

I found myself writing it in the margins of my sketchbook all day... I wonder why 

somedays words must come out of me, while other days I'm content with images 

and patterns and the quiet whisperings of the forest. 

I've been thinking about the necessity of walking a spiral path. In an email to 

a recently graduated student, I found myself writing about how important it is 

for artists to walk in circles. Most of the extraordinary people I know seem to 

walk crooked, spiraling paths of immense power and mystery. I suppose life IS 

a crooked path - and I wonder if much of the stress we have comes from thinking 

we can make the path straight, know the trajectory, and follow along from 

intention to goal at the end of the line. 

Learning to walk in the mystery is brave and essential for the creative process. 

I dance with the mystery while making paintings, starting from nothing and trusting 

I will know where to go. I think having learned to trust the creative flow has 

given me courage to walk through fear. Like walking through the dark forest in 

a faery tale, there are springs I must drink from, an old woman I must meet, 

and a ring I must bring to the king if I am to succeed in my quest. 

Peeking back at a watercolor book from several years ago, I found paintings 

that surely were seeds for my recent forest paintings. Seeing these suggests 

ways of working now, too. HA! Another spiral path, this one a spiral layering 

of time.  

On a recent outing I saw this ring. I imagine you're not surprised that it came 

home with me...

June in the forest was magnificent this year. The Mountain Laurel exploded 

into bloom and my walks were filled from ground to sky with white blossoms. 

Days of rain brought magical mushrooms. 

This one demanded contemplation, considering where 

it popped up. 

Giant ferns and wild irises together in the pond. 

 In the garden, some things are emerging, 

while others have gone to seed. 

There is much beauty when I lean in close and look under and through. 

Lunchtime tea in the garden. Pasha was the only invited guest. 

This grass captivated my attention all day. 

Delicate blooms undulated with the wind, 

a beautiful, graceful dance.

After tea, a catnap was in order. 

I wonder if I need to weed around Pasha's bench? 

The ferns seem to be claiming it for themselves. 

I did bring a fern inside to grace the windowsill, 

but not Pasha's nap-bench fern. 

I love this dreaming woman....

A luna moth stayed by the house all day one day, 

tucked in a fern where I placed him away from danger. 

He died the following morning. I do hope he found a female 

during the seven days of his life so RavenWood will have many of 

these magical moths next spring.