Slowing Time

 

© Robin Edmundson, 'Backlit Barn, Early Fall', watercolor, 10 x 14 inches.  $375.

It's October already.  The leaves are turning and we've had our first frost. This year has kept on moving despite all the upheaval.  

I've been thinking a lot about time this year.   Sometimes it felt as if things were standing still and other times, I blink and it's 3 months later. 

I find myself a little anxious that things are moving too quickly for me and I feel like I'm always behind.  I want things to slow down.

Do you remember the Star Trek movie, Insurrection?   One of the themes is the ability to slow time.  There are a couple of lovely scenes where Picard is focused on something so intently that time slows right down.  

It's that intention, attention and focus that helps me 'slow time'.  

I was in the garden the other day, quickly picking beans, trying to finish and cross that thing off the list, when I looked up and saw a vulture gliding in slow curves on an updraft.  I heard myself breathe deep and as I focused on that beautiful arc of movement in the sky, I could feel time stop for moment.

And I watched.

We talk about time slowing down, but time is a constant.  Time marches on.  Time flies.  In Latin, 'tempus fugit' literally means time flees. It runs away.

It's we who have to slow down.  To stop. Time slows when we slow.  

That afternoon in the garden, it was not time that slowed and stopped. I was the one who slowed, who stopped for those moments with intention, to pay attention and to focus on that miracle of flight.  

That smooth glide through the sky.  

That silent, joyful, gentle spiral.  

Higher. On a breath of warm wind.  

Higher.  

Higher. 

Around in another slow arc. 

One more time.

Higher.

I stopped; time stopped.

The vulture floated higher and my heart rose with it.

I hope, my wonderful friends, that you take a moment to stop time for something lovely that crosses your path today. 

Tulip Poplars and Sumac

© Robin Edmundson, 'Tulip Poplars and Sumac', watercolor, 18 x 24 inches.
Framed to 24 x 32 inches.  $750.

Some pieces take longer than others.  I did the first draft of this one waaay back in the fall and loved some things about and really didn't love others.   Mostly I loved the way it *felt*.

I showed it to a few other painters and got some feedback, which I didn't agree with, so I set it aside to think about. Eventually, I came back to it and tried a couple of things which didn't really work, so I took the advice I was given and discovered why I didn't agree with it.   In doing that, I learned a few extra things, so the experimentation was well worth the risk and result of a dud painting.

I painted another draft, tried more things, learn more things and was still not happy with the result.  So I painted another one.  And another.   And another.  And another.  And then this one.

I don't love this one as much as I find it interesting every time I see it. The version before was a bigger hit with the family, but this is the one that best says what I want it to say. 

The two versions sat side by side for a few weeks while I decided which I wanted to frame for my upcoming show.  Do I choose the one that is more popular with the viewers [and thereby has a better chance to sell?]  Or do I choose the one that most delights the artist? 

I chose this one.   I am delighted.

Impression - Fall Day

©Robin Edmundson, 'Impression - Fall Day', watercolor, 12 x 16 inches. 
Unframed $300

In 1873, Claude Monet painted a sunrise scene that he titled, 'Impression-Sunrise'.  The critics hated it.  It was the painting that gave the Impressionist movement its name.

His painting has always been a favorite of mine.  I love its subtleties.  He didn't try to say it all.  He simplified.  He made mood more important than accuracy. 

I pull up photos of the painting every so often to study his choices.  What he left out.  What he put in.  The colors he didn't use.  The colors he did use.  Where his focal point is.  Where the lines are.  How he communicated space and atmosphere. 

And then I close my eyes and let my mind's eye take me to a scene I've observed recently around here.  I focus on the feeling, the space, the atmosphere.  I exaggerate the colors.  I play with texture. I use a brush in a new way.  I practice the all-powerful Value.

The piece above is the latest one I've been working on.   I painted the initial washes, then let it sit for a few days, then decided how to emphasize the focal points and how to bridge them.  I added texture, then more, then more. 

And I stopped before it was an overworked mess.   I'm still practicing that. 

I could crop it into a square - and it would be beautiful - but it hasn't decided if it wants to be cropped or not and I'm kind of loving the greens on the far right.

I love that I managed to communicate [and then preserve] the impression of the day.  The bright colors, the clear air, the leaves falling.  This is the kind of creative practice that I love.

Frostbitten Leaves

©Robin Edmundson, 'Frostbitten Leaves', watercolor, 16 x 20 inches. 
Framed to 20 x 24 inches. $595

On very cold days, while the blue shadows linger, the oranges of oak leaves glow through the heavy frost and light snowfall.  I love that shifting light, that combination of exposure and concealment. 

I've been practicing meeting myself at the paper.  Breathing, working slowly, watching the paint and working with it rather than forcing it to do what I think it should.

The truth is, I have control issues. I am fully aware that I'm a control freak.   One of the reasons I chose watercolor is that it is a life lesson for me.   It does what it wants.  I have to learn to work with it instead of controlling it.  This is really good for me. 

I stick with watercolor because I like the way it makes my brain feel.  Less control, more collaboration.  Less forcing, more interaction.   So I meet myself at the paper and breathe and work one step at a time and then pause until the paint tells me what my next options are. 

More Big Experiments

© Robin Edmundson, 'Red Barn, Lyons, Fall Morning', watercolor, 18 x 24 inches.  Unframed $600.

So here's the thing about watercolor.  Sometimes it does its own thing and the trick is to react in a way that leads you to a successful conclusion, even if that conclusion doesn't match what's in your head. 

This conclusion doesn't match what I was after when I started, but it finished well enough and that works for me.   I'll do another version tomorrow with different light.

We came upon this barn way out near Lyons, Indiana, while we were driving around on our anniversary.   I love the little hollow where the run-off gathers.  Those hills do fun things with light.  I'll be working more with this reference photo.

Foggy Morning, October - Done!

Thanks so much for all the feedback on this piece.   I added some extra darks and it feels finished now.

It's gotten chilly here.   There's a fire in the wood stove and the smell of wood smoke in the air.  The trees are really turning colors now.  I love fall. 

I hope you're enjoying the change in season, too.

October Oaks

© Robin Edmundson, 'October Oaks', watercolor.

October is my favorite month!   So much color, so many shapes, such fabulous light.

Our oak trees put on quite a show here and they use aaaallll the colors.   How can I not be inspired?

We're likely going to get our first frost tonight.  Today I'll bring the bay tree and rosemary pots inside. I took down the hummingbird feeders yesterday. It's time to stock up on birdseed and suet for the winter. It won't be long until we hear the sandhills flying south for the season. 

I have a goal this winter to get over to the Goose Pond observation building and do some painting of the birds.  Sounds like fun, right?

Early Fall Color from the Dye Shop

Things have been as busy as ever around here.   This week, I dyed a whole bunch of yarn in one of my favorite fall colorways - 'Old Brass'.

Here's Moonbeam - a very shiny rayon knitted tape ribbon. It almost glows!

Look for all of these yarns to go up in the Etsy shop in the next few days. As always, if you've got your eye on something specific, let me know and I'll set it aside for you.

I Hate to See October Go

© 2016 Robin Edmundson, I Hate to See October Go, watercolor, 9 x 12 inches

100 years ago, in 1984, Barry Manilow sang a song with that line as the chorus.  That line has been stuck in my head all these years.  Every fall I think of it as Warm Fall moves into Cold Fall.   I have been deep in that season as I painted this piece.  I tried to fill it full of that late fall glow, after the leaves are down but the grass is still green.  Before the snow flies here.

The painting is about 9x12.  140 lb cp paper - Arches.

This one is for sale SOLD.   $150. Signed front and back.   Framed with a white mat, conservation quality [That's the good kind]. Simple black frame, like the one I used for the painting in the museum.  Framed size: 16x20.   Email me if you're interested: robin at morenna dot com.

October Gates

© 2016 Robin Edmundson, October Gates, watercolor, 9 x 12 inches

It's fall and even though this year's color hasn't been much to write home about, the light and the seasonal transition are as beautiful as always.  

This is a view off Highway 43.   For years I passed it every single morning on the way to work and this time of year it sparkles - a blue and gold fairyland.



I hope your next few weeks are glorious.

Honey Harvest!

It's the time of year when I need to do one last big inspection on the bees so I can combine hives, treat, think, evaluate, etc. before the winter.

I had 6 hives:

#1 The big Mother Hive - Russian x local queen
#2 Bedford nuc lg
#3 Bedford nuc sm - never took off.  Queen problems.
#4 1st swarm from Mother Hive
#5  split from Mother Hive to stop swarming.  [didn't work]
#6  after swarm from #5.   Stayed small [1/2 med box] but nice queen and good laying pattern.

I was delighted to find that #1 had filled me a whole super of honey.   First time for a real honey harvest.   #5 had filled a partial.  In all I had about 1 1/3 medium boxes of honey from the two hives.

We crush and strain by hand.   It took Claire and me about 1 1/2 hours to get it all done and cleaned up.   It's messy.   Seriously, seriously sticky and messy.

Even though the bees have been all over the goldenrod this year, we had plenty of rain and they were late filling the supers, I was amazed at how LIGHT the honey is.   It is sharp tasting like clover honey.   Since the bee yard has been smelling so good and like goldenrod, I expected darker, stronger goldenrod honey.   Huh.  We had a lot of asters, so maybe that was it.

At any rate, I'm very grateful.   I had wondered if I'd ever get a full super from any hive ever.   In all we got 10.75 pints of honey.  [That's 1 1/3 gallons.]

In other hive news:
#3 had gone completely queenless, no brood at all, but they had stored some honey.   I combined it with #6 by taking out the honey and putting it in #6, then putting #6 on top of #3 with newspaper between.   In a week, everyone should be up in #6 and we can pull #3 off the bottom and button them up for the winter.  

I took the extra boxes off everyone else to reduce defensible space.   The nights are chilly now and they're clustering well.  

Now I have 5 hives left.   They look good.   We'll put sugar bricks and quilt boxes over them in the next month or so and probably wrap them in tar paper, too.

Fall Bees

It was a busy fall around the bee yard the past couple of months.   Two of the hives decided to requeen in late August - one of the Russians and one of the nucs.   

The Russian hive produced 27 queen cells, which we tried to make nucs with and failed, but the cell we left in the hive produced a fabulous queen and that hive is doing very nicely now.   We're overwintering it in two boxes.  

The other Russian hive is doing fine and will winter in a single box.  

The nuc with the new queen never got very big and so I decided to combine it with what had been a much stronger hive.  Unfortunately, the combine was slow because you have to find one of the queens to take her out.   I had decided to keep the new queen and it took for freaking ever to find the other.   By the time I finished the combine, there was wholesale robbing.   By the time I got the robbing under control, there were not enough stores to warrant two boxes over the winter, so I reduced them down to a single box.   Which started more robbing, which I'll talk about in the next post. 

At any rate, I'm going into winter with 3 hives this year.   I am hopeful that the two Russian hives will do OK.   The other hive is very different in demeanor and I'd be thrilled if they made it through at all, but I confess I won't be surprised if they don't. 

Fall Fashion

What the fashionable woodland is wearing this October.

The 'jealous trees in autumn’s chilly nights '
do indeed 'transform their own limbs into fiery brights.'

Acorns

It's officially fall now and the acorns are raining like confetti from the tops of the trees.  We've never seen so many and are guessing that the long rains we've had this year are the cause.










Acorns are enchanting.  I like the textures.

In fact, I like all the textures of fall -- the moss, the colored leaves, the ripened seeds on the grass, the flowers, the trees....   It's all beautiful.

Straw on the Strawberries

This year I remembered to put straw down on the berries in November.   Last year I waited way too long and the berry plants did fine, but we didn't get too much of a harvest. 

It was a dumb mistake.  Next year I hope to get a much better harvest.

New Fruit Trees

I got four new little fruit trees from Stark Bros this fall.   They were on sale so I got two plums, a fig [Chicago Hardy] and an apricot.   They're planted on a slope between the studio/veg garden and the upper yard/chicken coop.   We planted 2 sweet cherries and a sour cherry there last year and if they all take, we'll have a nice little orchard of trees whose fruit we can't easily get elsewhere around here.

For rabbit protection, we surrounded the trees with chicken wire and then stuffed them full of leaves for now.   We'll probably top dress the dirt with some chicken dirt to help encourage root growth.  

Another Fall Color Post

These small ponds are right outside Tulip in Greene County, Indiana.    During the summer, they are often covered with green algae, so it's really nice to see them after a few frosts kill back the algae.  

These tiny ponds sparkle next to the trees this time of year. 

Autumn Shed

In the fall, stuff shows up against the backdrop of trees that you normally can't see - or don't notice.  Once the trees turn, my attention turns, too.  

I noticed this abandoned shed in a field along a road I travel often enough.   Maybe it was the light, or the fact that the shed matched the color of the sky that day, but it finally caught my eye.    Only after I got home and checked the pics did I notice all the windows and that it is more cabin-like than shed-like.   I wonder what the story is.

Around the Bend

And now, for your intellectual and viewing pleasure, a Philosophical Moment. 
Brought to you by Rurification. [cue violins....]

There are a lot of bends and curves in the roads out here.  You can't see straight to where you're going, but you've got to trust that you're going in the right direction and that any detours will be lovely.   You never know what fabulous things lie just around the bend.   Enjoy the curves.

Color

Happy Wednesday!

The fall colors are really starting to show.  I hope you get outside to enjoy them.