Cold Sun

January Sunset1

 

clouds glow cold fire bright

shadows, deep dance in silence

gray fox steals homeward

 

 

Sunset in Scott County, Kentucky. Sunsets on fire and cold shadows grow. Wonder at the juxtaposition of light and shadow. Marvel how cold and warmth co-mingle. Love the cool and the warm shades and tones in harmony.

I cannot see Gray Fox but I have hear her bark.

 

Lemuel

3-28-18

Rise/Set

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Wonder is a Verb

Wonder

pexels-photo-279561.jpeg

Wonder is a verb. What makes me wonder;  ponder, think, cogitate, be in awe, marvel, or imagine? Wonder leads to discovery.

My neighborhood is filled with attention grabbing this-and-thats which fuel my wonder. The hills and woods are chocked with of wonder when I arrive. Creek banks and islands reached by hand-built boats propel my wonder to new and delirious heights.

My Library is the penultimate source of wonder. It offers access to the entire world, even to the known universe. Information is at my finger tips waiting to be discovered, organized for me to find, for whatever course I chart.

“I’ve seen and done some stuff.” I heard that sentence in my voice during a congenial conversation made even better by a shared meal.

Our banter covered hieroglyphs and illuminated manuscripts, dinosaurs and sailing ships,the solar system and satellites, and animals and plants, and the northern lights.

Then, for a moment we were silent and laughed when we realised what nerds we are.  We are simply folks, neighbors, school chums, and new friends, ready for the quest, primed to leave home to navigate the farthest shore, and ready to see wonder in the world.

When I cannot board a hover-craft to the Amazon River I get some Library materials and instantly I am in awe.

I am one of the usual suspects I am a Wonderer. I have a Library card and I love discovery.

A Branch While Hiking

Branch

In my neck of the woods a branch is a small tributary to a creek or larger waterway. Whilst tromping through the woods and glades many ditches, creeks, and branches flowed. The created fetching sights or lovely gurgling sounds. These watery places were part of the adventure and a place to cool off during the heat of summer.

On many occasions there was nothing for it than fording a branch to get to the other side. In warm weather it was off socks and boots and pile the gear high out of reach of the water. Minding the slippery rocks and curious fish I waded. This was my preferred maneuver to cross a branch.

Sitting on the far shore drying in the sunshine gave me time to admire the flowing water and to imagine stories the steam might tell of its course.

My favorite character, Ratty in the Wind in the Willows advised “there is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”  I have always admired Rat’s view of that world.

I say, “believe me, absolutely there is this one thing, so much worth doing, that is simply messing about in branches.” For me, maybe, more so than messing about in boats with apologies to Ratty.

Jack Frost, a Nano Story 2017

When I sit still I can get an idea for a story or for a drawing. It seems when I am busy or driving down the highway I get more ideas. Used to be in the shower. Now it’s commuting or chopping weeds.

11.06.17 Jack Frost p

The idea of seasons has the connotation of change or exclusivity as in “seasonal produce”. We must be ever mindful of how we alter our world.

 

 

 

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(c) 2017 Lemuel

 

Picture This: Catching A Rainbow

double rainbow

Neighborhood Double Rainbow

Picture this: On a neighborhood street traffic is backed up, more of the usual stuff for those who dare to drive vehicles on roads.

This was a line of cars not moving, not for a crash, not for yielding right-of-way to a pedestrian (if that still happens). Drivers stopped in the street for a rainbow.

Arms of all shades poked out of car windows holding up phones taking pictures of a vibrant double rainbow.

Picture this, people stopped to take a picture of arching radiation wavelengths in the sky they deemed so very beautiful, of such imminence, worthy of a moment to capture it as a series of ones and zeroes with batteries freshly charged.

A small line of people snapping a moment of color, a shared event, group appreciation that was over quickly and the drivers resumed their drives. It was a bit goofy stopping in the middle of a neighborhood street for the pleasure of taking a picture. Better to stop for a moment than to try to get the picture in the sky whilst driving on the pavement.

In files on their phones they have the same scene, slightly different angle, from personal points of view at approximately the same time but it is theirs and mine and ours and my money is on us sharing it with at least half a dozen other people before the morning is out.

Perhaps the soul requires humans to recognize and to respond to colors, shapes, and scales that have the sky as a canvas as exhibited in a rainbow or even in fireworks.

I am sure none of the drivers were out to prank the rest of the motoring public as an “in-your-face” flow stoppage. My justification is I had to stop.

“Oh, by the way, might as well snap that giant rainbow sailing in the sky.”

Wednesdays are now Catching Rainbows Wednesday.

And I picture this: Catching other humans being Artists.

Inspiring Weeds

 

First, it has rained without stop for nearly a week. Spring rain has blessed the turf and the weeds.

Mowing has not been an option except on a one-day respite. Right on time the sun shined. I mowed.

I almost mowed my current inspiration –the flowers and the volatile green growth of weeds.

I was spellbound by the multitude of shining shades and the subtle water-fed colors of weeds. They are quite beautiful.

No, I must be about the mowing. The rains return tomorrow according to the Weather Channel™.

Weed paint sketch in greens

Underpainting of “Weeds” on wood panel.

By definition a weed is “a plant not valued for its use or beauty”. So if I love them for their colorful foliage, tender shades, and gentle contrasts do they cease to be ‘weeds’?

When the form of weeds and the tableaus of tiny blossoms as in a wild garden capture my imagination am I no longer the care-taker of the property to which I exert my rights?

I like the way the veins in their leaves and the rose hues remind me of chard.  How the tiny trefoil leaves suggest clover but sprout miniature yellow daisy-like blossoms. I like that sort of surprise.

I snapped one, two, and then a half-dozen pictures, just for color sketches I remind myself. I prepared four panels for painting.

The rain falls on the just and the unjust.

And the merely inspired.