|the owl and me, journal drawing, VClaff 2014|
The wild ones must be sensing my need for creature companions as I have almost
nightly visits from the owl and a pair of raccoons who pick through the fallen birdseed
for treats. I quietly open the back door and step out onto the stones to greet the
owl. I stay for just a moment, look into her eyes and thank her for trusting me.
|owl, journal drawing, VClaff 2014|
here and there and seemingly not able to find his way back from where he had
come. Without a cat around, the mice have become quite bold, but this sweet
little one was a bit too bold. I caught him and decided I would just bring him
outside, thinking that for sure he would come right back in with the rest of the
family after the evening forage. I put him down on the snow, expecting him to
bolt away, but he stood frozen there, looking up at me. It crossed my mind that
he might not have been the smartest mouse around, when, in turning to go inside,
I noticed the owl on her perch. Hmmmm. A moment of decision, wondering if I
should move the mouse. I like mice - all creatures, really - but I'm also clear that
life eats life. My moment of hesitation was enough, and I turned to see the owl
swoop down from her perch and whisk the mouse away into the trees just steps from where I stood. It was both heartwrenching and amazing... life.
|creature behind a tree, journal drawing, VClaff 2014|
I have been tending to the stillness calling me, and listening to the deepest,
darkest parts of myself, in this coldest of winters. On days when I am not
teaching, my mornings are long and slow and spent writing and reflecting in
my journal, listening to the cracks and pops of the fire. The word that best
describes my state is frozen, like the land, waiting for some new cycle to
warm me and inspire a flow. In my journal, quick drawings emerge along
with the writing - all the art I have been able to make. There have been
moments of despair, but also moments of deep presence, and I have become
good at trusting the dark over the years, knowing the gifts that come from
sitting still and listening.
|a face, journal drawing, VClaff 2014|
people have made it into my paintings. They find their way into drawings, like
the root people drawings - but not into other work. I think because I imagine the landscapes I paint to be what I am walking inside, and want to wander only in
the wildest of places on the edge of mystery.
|a grandmother, journal drawing, VClaff 2014|
|raven woman, journal drawing, VClaff 2014|
As I write, the rain is pouring down, a shift from the endless frozenness of these
last months. Spring Equinox was a day of ice, rain, sun and then snow as if the
spring was determined to get a word in edgewise with this bully of a winter.
A moment in the sunshine to welcome spring.
Today is warm, and was dry until the end of my walk
up the road, but then the branching reflections in the
puddles were a great distraction.
My night friends who, really, have been quite polite as
they do not disturb the feeders with all that seed hanging
right above their heads.