Stories in the Snow

"Old One", drawing on 8x8" scratchbord panel

Thank you all for your heartfelt words on my last post, 

I was truly comforted by your support and well wishes.

As the days melt one into the other, we find our 

feet on the path of healing, feeling the strength 

of our family and the warm embraces of 

those near and far. 

I have been working on more tree drawings, 

 the obsessive mark-making a meditation in the fading 

winter light. I think the one above is my favorite so far, 

finished last night sitting close to the wood stove 

listening to an audio book of ancient days of 

road wandering and storytelling in England. 

"Mystery Tree", drawing on 4x4" scratchbord panel

A frozen world surrounds me, with a sweet dusting of 

snow, a blank parchment recording the travels

of the forest creatures. Below, the tracks of the fox, 

just outside the door, where many an encounter 

was had between fox and Pasha cat last spring.

Grandmother Winter's dark cloak hides the daylight early

away, yet the frozen jewels she spreads beneath her

reveal that silent ones have slipped past. I love this time

of year, able to read the traveling stories of the often  

invisible woodland wanderers.

Below, a collection of images from the last day 

of school. Student work from my class, Exploring the Natural World,

and the last photo, a collection of books projects from 

2D Design & Color. I hope you enjoy them as much as I!

(Click to enlarge)

Mixed-media - map cutout and collage by Sarah P. who 

shares my love of winter trees. 

A very large chalk pastel drawing - 20"x50" or so, 

by another Sarah.... lovely light!

A 3-d illustration of a poem by Riley, 

with detail below. 

Watercolor and color pencil drawings by Miriam.

Watercolor and pen & ink drawing by Justine below.

Atmospheric imaginary landscape by Jess, and 

"Animal Houses", by Austin below.

Mixed-media collage - lovely landscape by Kate, and

below, a collection of design books, and a peek at 

the studio at school where I teach. 

Alas, it is time to wrap myself in wool, down and fleece 

and venture out to bring in wood, fill bird feeders, and 

walk a bit to collect kindling. Pasha has been in 

and out many times already, for the temperature 

was only 12 degrees last I looked. I wonder if 

he'll join me on my chores to write our 

wandering stories in the snow? 

Ancient Trees, Setting Sun, Apparitions in the Night

"Ancient Oak", 5"x5" scratchbord drawing

While my days at home are spent preparing for the 

coming snows, I steal moments while teaching to 

bring more ancient trees to life. Only a few weeks 

left in the semester, and students work 

independently on self-designed projects. I 

become more like a consultant now, as long as I've 

done my job at the beginning of the class to invite 

them into their own creative process. I enjoy working 

along side, sharing in the development of our work. 

Have I mentioned how much I love teaching? 

"Dancing Oak", 5"x5" scratchboard drawing

 Much of the land in these hills is second growth, 

though stands of old growth forests dot the hills 

here and there. The sides of roads are lined 

with old, gnarled sugar maples and trees that 

escaped being cut because they grew at the

 boundaries of land parcels. 

One such tree is this enormous hemlock 

on the side of the road near my house. 

I call her "Grandmother Hemlock". Its hard 

to get a good sense of scale here, 

 I must return with someone for a size comparison. 

She is mostly hollow now, and until last year she 

was still full of green growth. One night of high 

winds brought her top down and most of her 

sweeping branches. Until the other day I thought 

she was completely dead. I spent some time sitting 

with her and noticed to my surprise 

that she still has several green branches growing 

from her middle. She whispers

many stories to me when I pass- stories of 

owls nesting inside, mosses gathering 

at her roots, and days gone by when people

other than me greeted her as a wise elder spirit. 

Up the road from Grandmother Hemlock, trees cradle

 the sinking sun. A barred owl glides past, I stop and 

follow her in my dreaming. 

The last of the leaves shout orange as I pass, 

I catch them frolicking with the light 

and wind, flitting this way and that, filling my 

otherwise quiet walk with a sound like 

paper lanterns in the breeze.    

In the field at the crest of the hill, I pause for the 

last of the color show. 

The return walk on the other side of the road, 

reveals stories written in sand. A deer track, 

heading into the forest. 

And what appears to be a coyote speeding along 

behind. Its the time of deer running.

Predators are hungry with the gathering cold, 

and the forest is full of coyote pups growing bigger, 

and orange-vested men with guns, 

stealing a day away from work 

to hunt the deer. 

I remember a brief encounter as I write. 

While driving in the moonlight, I squinted 

at the apparition in the middle of the road. 

A slight mist, the rising almost-full 

moon, a pair of antlers appearing in front of me. 

I slowed and the young buck walked slowly to the 

side of the road. I rolled down my window as he 

turned back to look into my eyes. I waited for him

to speed away - instead he turned and

walked slowly, gently into the dark.