Tag Archives: autumn

Indian Summer

Fall-springbank

Golden leaves are scattered on the ground, like hundreds of mini suns. Thanksgiving has past, and we are still enjoying beautiful fall weather which is such a welcome rarity that I am grateful for. The hunter’s moon, the brightest of the year, spilled greenish grey pools of light, its penumbra shadows slipping between the beats of my heart.

Picture 319

The job search continues, and I hope I will find something permanent soon-in an area that is related to my to my passions. I really did not think it would take this long to find something suitable. There is a job out there for me somewhere where I can make a difference.

I am so enjoying teaching piano and guitar~it’s only part-time at the moment, but it is so thrilling to see the students learn and be excited about what they are doing. The gift of music is priceless, and one does not become a master at their trade, until they are able to pass it along to someone else. I am also rehearsing to re-enter the performance world, yet sorry to say the cats are not enthusiastic about my practise.

window-mural-triptych

I went back to do another window, and here are all three. I like how all three tie together. Must go by at night and see the glow of the moon with the solar paint.

It paid to put out a call on Twitter in my city thread. Great timing to be sure, and now I have another possible small mural lining up. Interesting things are beginning to happen. Stay tuned … I am laying a lot of groundwork at the moment. Also, I just wanted to send out a special thank you to my loyal visitors. I will try to make my response time to comments a little quicker. This blog post I had started nearly three weeks ago. Sometimes I get carried away.

Thoughts on the Process of Art

viewfinder_sm

In my soul searching I have come to a deeper understanding of some of the fundamentals regarding my creative journey.

The process of art is observation. Technical knowledge does not overrule observation at a conscious level.

Mindful seeing. The view is both internal, and external, microcosm, macrocosm, as it is within, so it is without. Sensing space between the lines and forms, data is filtered and new connections made.

Patterns emerge through lines and shapes, forms creating rhythm and texture. Our perception is a projector onto the canvas, reflecting the essence of inspiration.

A lifetime of observation delivers with smooth precision on the canvas effortlessly transformed by imagination. The place where pure expression exists without modification.

yellowforest

Balance is unspoken, an internal knowing. The integration of what at first appears to be opposing forces may be the only true reality.

‘”Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” – that is all/Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’ ~Keats

A hushed moment, however fleeting, is etched into the mind forever. Trees in their grandeur allow gentle beauty that reaches to the depths of soul. Immersed in the golden pools of light, I gather the energies for the next creative manifestation.

What I Need

Bird on a Wire

I began this post over two weeks ago, then somehow got distracted. Like a bird on a wire I have been trying to do the balancing act. Not sure why, as it seems I haven’t accomplished much. Sometimes when so much energy is spent on basic survival, little is left for creating wonderful things.

The full moon and eclipse earlier this month seemed to arouse a raw primal energy which thankfully seems to have softened. Regardless of the amount of effort exerted in the last while, things have been stagnant, unwilling to budge. It is an in between time, where I am trying to organize myself for the inevitable frenzy.

Forest Pond

What I need is calm, quiet, and serenity. Give me a sanctuary far from this madness. I have been fall cleaning, which includes, but is not limited to decluttering, reorganizing trying to clear the energies around here to make room for the new!

A nesting ritual of sorts, it is my contribution to the Canadian tradition of readying oneself for hibernation, a long stretch indoors. My focus has been diluted, causing me to be easily distracted. I tell myself it is a necessary stepping stone to what is to follow.

River

Silvered leaves have raised their underside to the moonlight, trees swaying in anticipation. Rains have come, full and steady, rolling off the roof and trickling into little rivers at the side of the house. My hope for the yellowing leaves, sure to fall, is for a gradual descent.

Time stands still, like the darkness in the morning, which awaits an earlier dawn. Daylight savings time has been delayed. The dark mornings make me wonder why the change is supposed to be an improvement. Old habits die hard, even with the promise of rebirth.

Chick With A Camera

mountainashIf you are ever wondering how to draw a crowd, or muster up some attention, let me give you some simple advice. Stroll downtown, with a digital camera, and a tripod. The tripod is a prerequisite. Carrying only a camera will take away from the effect. You will be too inconspicuous.

Yesterday was the last predicted day of warm sunshine and yellow leaves. In an instant, one strong wind can carry away the leaves, usually prematurely. My mission was to take as many pictures as I could. Downtown, I stopped in a park, snapping a few shots, when a couple strode past me, and began looking up to the top of the high rises and all around. For the life of them could not figure out what they were missing out on. Truth is it was right under their nose.

Continue reading Chick With A Camera

Prelude to Autumn

rockgardensmall

 

Perhaps it will be a fall garden. Things are slow blooming this year, although the season started early. Already yellow leaves are sprinkled here and there on green grass. Strange winds come out of nowhere, a prelude to the season change.

Fire weed will most likely sprout up any day now, in summers’ final blaze of glory. Only August and I have turned the heat on twice. Hope reigns supreme for Indian summer, a reprieve, grace for the undeserving.

One more chance is all I ask. Another sunset, it’s warmth on my shoulders. Let me breathe one
more warm gentle summer breeze, through my bedroom window, with whispers skimming the sheets.