At the Forest Edge

Small study, VClaff 2015

  

I remember stating clearly to a small circle of kindred souls, 

that what I desire most is to simplify, to create more time for dreaming 

and being, and to be less on my own and more connected to others. 

In the last few years, deaths - actual and metaphoric - have left me much 

on my own. I trust that my season of letting go has gifts for me -  the wisdom 

of deep, strong roots and a knowledge of the dark earth underneath, and 

maybe some truth yet unknown. Instead of simplifying, the need to bring in 

more to pay for my healing, not covered by insurance, has me busier than 

ever these last few months. I do hope that there is a way to simplify, be, 

dream and create more, and to find my way out of my hermitage.

 

Morning, VClaff, watercolor on paper, 2015

               Somehow, I found my way back to the studio though, and ideas that 

have been incubating for a long time are finding expression. Something in 

            the small study that wanted more attention came into a larger painting

            and I find myself at the edge of the forest, not as much in the deep 

            woodlands. As always, the small work allows me to explore many directions 

           and to find my way back into the creative process.

 

small study, VClaff 2015

small study, VClaff 2015

small study, VClaff 2015

Rhu is a bit of a distraction in the studio, running 

in and out through the hanging screens, wanting me 

to go out to the forest on beautiful, autumn days. 

Maybe when the door is shut and the hearth is 

heating, his visits will be to warm up by the stove, 

and not jump up on the drying paintings. 

At school, we've begun working with eco prints and 

contact printing, which this year's class is loving it. 

They are very willing to experiment and play and had 

a great time with the natural materials.

 We had some good results, and will do more dyeing 

this week. Their assignment is to use these papers 

in finished works incorporating drawing in some way.

 Color is bursting out everywhere right now, at times 

so amazing I gasp. 

                       And with the color, comes the push to get the wood in. 

                      This weekend was spent stacking the first two cords, always 

such a good feeling to see the pile shrink outside the shed, 

and become a neat stack inside. This week, the next two 

cords will be delivered and go into the shed.

 

 In the in between spaces, there are moments to wander

 the garden, finding joy in the small beauties - a hanging 

leaf, a stone angel among the rusting ferns, sweet Rhu 

enjoying a quiet moment on the stones, and a moment 

with moss.

The Grounding of a Dream

Warmth and sunshine blessed these past days, drying leaves and plants and finally the mold and mildew of the watery August. All of a sudden it seems, leaves are turning 

and cool autumn nights whisper of the frozen days to come. Just at the moment of balanced light, I step onto the path that will lead to the grounding of my dream 

and the manifestation of a vision long held. First, before I tell you of this, there are 

gifts from the land to share, small jewels of shape and color and pattern.  

The teasel has grown two exquisite meandering spirals, 

she must have heard how much I love spirals - and teasel - 

her form alone is enough to captivate me for hours. 

 

At the edge of the road is a maple tree well-loved by red squirrels,

their small entrance hole is beautifully ringed in 

rusty hues.   

Turning around, I see another entrance on a tree that 

looks as though she might someday get up and walk away. 

The beautiful windflowers offered up their petals in pink piles 

on the ground revealing their radial, reaching form. 

Late color in the garden is so utterly surprising,

I sat with this coltsfoot for a long time learning 

about purples and greens and the river-like 

meanderings of bugs. 

Afternoon light in a canopy of autumn trees is spectacular. 

One small glowing oak leaf, low to the ground, 

rivals cathedral windows, I muse. I walk from one glittering 

light show to another, all only a foot or so from the ground, 

each worthy of a small gasp. 

A few late bloomers add a touch of magenta. 

Northern sea oats dance green-gold and salmon in the 

slanting afternoon rays. 

I wander to the newly cleared bit of forest, 

full of gratitude and a bit of disbelief that 

my dream for this place will soon be manifest. 

 So long have I waited to bring my work fully home: 

to earth and ground, to teasel spirals and raven calls, 

to owl feathers and the embrace of mosses and 

hemlocks and towering oaks. 

Two years of grant writing and paperwork, 

business plans and meetings, hirings and firings of contractors, 

phone calls and deadlines, holding tight to 

strong vision and deep dreaming -

soon, 

IT WILL BE! 

RavenWood Forest

Studio of Mythic & Environmental Arts

Where I will teach many things, 

where dreams will be nurtured, 

and nature will inspire, 

seasonal turnings will be celebrated, 

and mostly, 

the question will not be how can we save the Earth, 

but 

how can the Earth save us? 

 There is a blue sky behind the gray mists, 

and some nights I'm so excited I don't sleep, 

for soon, my dreaming will find roots in the Earth, 

and a small, beautifully built cottage will tuck into a clearing

 in the forest. 

Profound gratitude is a foundation like no other.  

"Blue Sky Behind Gray Mists", watercolor, 2011