Summer

 

© Robin Edmundson, 'Morning Wildflowers', watercolor, 9 x 12 inches. Framed, $300.  

It’s summer. It’s hot. It’s noisy. I love it.

I’m not going lie, all these cicadas have been enormously entertaining, but I won’t be sorry to see them go. Every 17 years is plenty often enough. [This is my 4th time experiencing Brood X. It’s never dull.]

To beat the heat and the noise, I’ve been walking early in the morning, when things are cooler, a bit quieter and the morning mist is blue in the shade and orange in the rising sun. Even the neighbor’s cows are orange on those mornings.

So many wonderful things to see on my walks this time of year. The abundance of food has made the turkeys brave and I’ve actually met one on the road a couple of times. There are a few rabbits that venture out onto the road in the mornings and I’ve figured out how to behave so that they’ll let me walk right by them. I’ve chatted with turtles and salamanders and a few snakes.

I also happened to be standing in the right place one morning to see where a pileated woodpecker’s nest was and it’s been exciting waiting for the chicks to be big enough to venture out. There is a squirrel that lives in the next tree over and I was surprised and delighted to find out that grumpy neighbors are not just a human experience. I’m glad I don’t live next to that squirrel.

The gardens are looking lovely. My asparagus is almost finished, my peas are producing like crazy, I have baby tomatoes on some of my plants and my beans are getting taller by the minute. I love this time of year.

Wishing you lovely neighbors and an abundance of magical moments.

Morning Mist

 ©Robin Edmundson, 'Morning Mist on the Water', watercolor 9 x 12 inches.  $300, framed

I've been studying the art of Richard Mayhew and Donald Holden.  They both had a gift for seeing the essence of the landscape and the discipline to leave out anything that was unnecessary.  

This is something that I'm working on.  It's extraordinarily rewarding, but I confess that it is *hard* for me not to fuss and fiddle. 

I've heard people say about some of that type of work that, 'Anyone could do that!', because it looks so simple, so easy.  Doing a few simple layers, might look 'easy' [it's not],  but I've realized that what is really hard is the stopping, the *not doing more*.   Not anyone could stop at that.  That's where the discipline lies.

I was so in love the with the first wash here that I knew it was a perfect chance to practice.   I looked at that first layer for days until just the right strategy surfaced and I gently proceeded.    

Still, I fussed.  I think it could have been simplified further.  

Double Mist

© Robin Edmundson, 'Double Mist, October',  20 x 24 inches framed.  

This is a piece I did a few months ago.  Once in a while we get a double layer of mist over the fields. It's magical on a bright fall morning.


I'm having prints made and they will be available at the show.  And soon, in the shop section on my art site.

Goose Pond in April

It's no wonder the ducks and cranes and pelicans love this place.  Those open expanses of shining water and grass are enchanting.   It's pretty in the morning mist.

Quiet Misty Mornings

Lily was out and about with the camera early one morning recently.

She loves to walk the woods on misty, foggy mornings.  Our woods get even more dark and mysterious in the mist and fog.  












On this particular morning everything was drippy with dew. 
















She said the spiderwebs were like strings of pearls.

Magical.

Misty August Mornings

This is the season of change.    The heat has subsided a bit and the nights are cool.    We've had fires in the firepit and cooked our breakfast crepes on the grate over the firepit while cradling hot cups of chai and chocolate.

It is a blessed relief from the firey heat of summer. Now we pray for rain.

Lots of rain.

Lily got these pics one lovely cool morning. 

The spiders have been busy.   The webs with the zigzags are made by the Argiope. 

I love the spiral construction of this one.