Spring Fever

Yesterday Herb and I got up early to begin spring cleaning in our yard. We had rented a chain saw to cut down some big branches that had broken off during the winter. Mercifully, this year's snowstorms were not as severe and there were fewer branches down than the previous winter, when we spent three weekends cleaning up the yard. We were done in a couple of hours.

In the afternoon the sun came out and the temperature rose--I noticed one crocus flower bud had poked up in my front yard, but all the others seemed to be at least a week away from any bloom. I figured that Brookside Gardens, being closer in town and warmer, is seasonally ahead, so I drove there to scout out painting locations for the coming weeks.

An expanse of mauve crocus flowers greeted me at the entrance by the Visitor's Center. Further up the path, intoxicating scents of Witch Hazel and narcissus wafted from my favorite patch of birches (see last year's posting A Host of Golden Daffodils). It wasn't quite warm enough for painting yet, but there were enough flowers to gladden the heart on this sunny afternoon.

Kayaking Down the Weeki Wachee

Herb with our kayaks at the starting point.

I'd been hoping to be able to post the finished video I had taken of our kayak trip down the Weeki Wachee River this week, but unfortunately I am still editing it, so I thought I'd post some photos of the highlights. It was chilly the morning we drove down to Weeki Wachee, sunny and clear. In fact, the thermometer never made it over 57 degrees that day.

We put out around ten-thirty and agreed to be picked up at two in the afternoon at Rogers Park, the designated pick-up area for the rentals at the state park, seven and a half miles downstream. The starting point is just below the swimming area near Weeki Wachee's headspring, and the water stays crystal-clear for several miles downstream. The flat-bottom tour boat was coming around the bend just as we entered and honked at us to get out of their way.

Drifting downriver.

I got out my camera and started filming while drifting downriver--the six-knot current propels one right along. After a minute or so we reached the first bend, and it was necessary to stop filming so I could maneuver around a small islet in the middle. As I rounded the islet, the flat-bottom boat was heading back, coming straight towards me and blasting its horn like mad for me to get out of the way, which I managed to do in just a nick of time.

Birdsong permeated the thickets along the river, with the occasional sound of a motor from the road beyond or a plane overhead. I kept filming and drifting, and ended up getting tangled in the branches hanging over the river, or running into the banks when I failed to paddle around a turn--the river is all sharp "S" bends in the upper part.

Herb paddling on the Weeki Wachee.

 The river seemed lower than when we'd been there two years before; we found out later there had been a drought last year. There also seemed to be more fallen trees. At one point my kayak got stuck on the branches of a sunken log and I had to dip my arm in the water to push it loose. The water was a pleasant 72 degrees, but as soon as I pulled my arm out, the cold air made my wet sleeve feel really frigid.

Alligator sunning on the bank.

We saw a good-sized 'gator sunning on the banks, and turtles basking on logs as we made our way down the river. At some point we paddled past the house we had rented two years before and recognized the neighborhood--some of the decks by the river had deteriorated quite a bit since then, and others had been replaced.

Herb way ahead.

A blue heron poses in front of a fake parrot.

Downstream from Dawn Lane the color of the water begins to change subtly as it becomes more brackish--we were now entering the lower tidal zone. A blue heron and a belted kingfisher played tag with us, staying just ahead. There were more houses along the banks on this stretch.

Captain Fred had told us about a place on this part of the river called Hospital Hole--it's a fissure that is 160 feet deep, and divers who attempt it without allowing for decompression time end up in the hospital with the bends. He said once he'd made a bet with a local lad who had no idea just how deep this hole was and thought he could free-dive down to the bottom! Manatees like to congregate around the hole.

Looking for Hospital Hole.

We were looking for Hospital Hole, keeping in mind to bear left to stay on the river (a number of canals go off in this area), when we came across a group of fishermen casting from a large boat. They pulled in their lines to allow us to pass by, and we asked them the whereabouts of the hole. This is it, they said, you're directly over it--one could see the color of the water was different here, a deep sea blue-green. There were schools of large fish swimming around, and then I spotted a manatee cow and her calf coming up for air. I grabbed my camera and noticed there were drops of water on the lens--oh-oh!

Herb and I circled around the hole a few times while I filmed. There seemed to be a pod of about a dozen manatees, with at least three babies. Some of my footage came out blurry from the condensation on the lens, but I managed to get two of the mothers with their calves. One pair came so close to my kayak I could have reached down and touched them, and then the baby turned to look up at me--so cool!

Hospital Hole was very close to the end of the run, and soon we were at Rogers Park pulling up our kayaks on the ramp--we didn't have to wait long to be picked up.

Elena kayaking into Rogers Park.

More Crystal River Sketches

Windy Day in Crystal River, watercolor, 10" x 14." Contact artist for price.

Here are few more sketches I did in Crystal River during our vacation. The one above is a watercolor looking out from the front of our house done on a very windy morning. The one below, a small oil of the sunset looking out on Kings Bay on an overcast evening. Our location in Crystal River offered so many wonderful views it was hard to decide what to paint next!

Cloudy evening on Kings Bay, oils on canvas panel, 8" x 10."
Contact artist for price.

Crystal River Archeological Park

Crystal River Archeological Park, oils on canvas panel, 11" x 14." Contact artist for price.

I was surprised to learn that Crystal River had an archeological site dating from 14,000 years ago. The Crystal River Archeological Park gives the visitor a fascinating glimpse into these prehistoric settlements. Six burial and ceremonial mounds are found on the 14-acre site at the mouth of the Crystal River, which was occupied until the times of the Spanish conquest.

Armadillo at the Crystal River Archeological Park

On our way into the park we saw another car stopped by the side of the road. Curious, we pulled up to see why these folk were there--and saw an armadillo cross the road--the creature lingered long enough to allow me to take this shot.

The small 1960's-style museum housed an interesting collection of artifacts and exhibits giving a history of the  cultures who successively occupied the site, as well as the early 20-century archeologists who studied it. Motion-controlled stations with recordings around the site provided a nice self-guided tour.

Herb and I walked by the burial mounds and climbed up the large Ceremonial mound (the highest on the site) which had at one time an earthen ramp that had been removed and replaced by stairs. We saw a stone stele with a face carved on it, a rarity among these early cultures.

The large Ceremonial Mound

The Stele

There were many birds and wildlife all around. The place was pervaded by a quiet elegiac atmosphere, to which the Spanish moss waving on the huge trees probably contributed. I resolved to come back another day to paint on site.

Herb at the archeological park

I came back toward the end of our stay and painted the oil above on a very windy and chilly day--sheltered from the wind behind the trunk of a large live oak, it was much warmer here in January than in Maryland.

Slogging on the Chazz

The Chassahowitzka River

I wanted to explore the wilderness around Crystal River. Talking to the volunteers at the Wilderness Refuge one day, a lady suggested we canoe or kayak down the nearby Chassahowitzka River (the "Chazz" for short) to a side creek where there is a place the locals call "The Crack" at the headwaters of the creek.

It was early afternoon when we rented a canoe at the Chassahowitzka Campground at end of the Miss Maggie Road (they included a small hand-drawn map of the area for our benefit). They told us they had no kayaks available on slow weekdays. That proved to be lucky for us, as it allowed us to explore the creeks at low water.

First, we paddled 100 yards upstream to the springs that feed the river. It was hard to tell exactly where Chassahowitzka Spring was--a first magnitude spring. Presumably it was the first deep pool with a strong current we traversed. Further upstream to the left there was a set of "unnamed springs" that the canoe rental guy referred to as Seven Sisters--a series of vents of varying sizes. The water here was crystalline, one to two feet deep, and the pools startlingly blue-green.

One of the Seven Sisters vents.

We turned around at the uppermost vent and started back downstream. Groups of pelicans flew by, some landing on the water near us, others on trees. Further down the river a flock of vultures perched on a dead tree; blue herons and cormorants fished the banks. A fisherman was working his net in the middle of the river. This was the real old Florida!

 As we made our way toward Baird Creek, we encountered a couple on kayaks who entered the creek ahead of us. They had trouble getting by the shallow mouth marked by a small island, but soon they outdistanced us as we labored through the shallows. We met them again not long after--they'd had to turn around when the course became too narrow for their paddles. The canoe allowed more room for maneuvering, so we were able to paddle upstream almost all the way to The Crack.

We paddled through places with currents strong enough to make us work really hard, through a wide, deep blue-green pool (later I learned this was called Blue Springs), and channels so narrow our canoe got wedged between the banks. We kept paddling through beautiful, thick Florida jungle, seeing wading birds. Where was this mysterious Crack? We met a small group of canoers heading downstream and asked them. Their leader said we were very close, but would likely have to walk for the last few hundred yards.

 

Eventually we ran aground--it was time to ditch the canoe. Herb sank knee-deep into black mud as he was trying to pull up the canoe, but managed to not lose his shoes. We persisted and sloshed ankle-deep in the warm, clear water the rest of the way, until we finally came across The Crack.

The Crack was a few feet across by some thirty feet long, and who knows how deep? The bottom couldn't be seen--it cut across a very shallow swimming hole decorated by a fallen palm trunk that had been carved with initials for apparently a number of years. We couldn't linger very long as it was past four then and we had to return the canoe by five. About this time a few insects began to appear--I can just imagine what they must be like in the summer months.

We high-tailed it out of there and back to our canoe. Later Herb said he hadn't had this much fun in a long time--there might be something in swamps after all. I think Swamp Girl (his nickname for me) has made a new convert!

Herb at the Blue Crack

You can see more photos of our Chazz Adventure on Flickr.

Morning Sketches

Crystal River Morning, watercolor study, 6" x 10."

While vacationing at Crystal River I got into a routine of getting up in the morning just as the sun was rising. After opening the curtains of the row of windows giving out onto the lagoon and fixing a cup of my favorite chai tea, I would get out my watercolors to work on a sketch. The windows had a convenient small ledge on which to set my kit, and sitting on a kitchen stool, I worked until Herb was up and ready for breakfast.

Crystal River Morning, watercolor, 10" x 14."

I never tired of seeing the play of the light on the mossy branches of the trees across the lagoon--such incredible colors! From orangey at first light to golden yellow as the sun climbed higher, lilacs in the shade, they were all so harmonious, and so difficult to render! It could take a lifetime to get this Florida landscape just right. I hope I get enough time after I retire there to learn to paint Florida with a small fraction of its natural beauty.

Three Sisters Spring

Three Sisters Spring, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

A few days after our swim with the manatees, the 24th Annual Florida Manatee Festival was taking place. On Saturday, the Crystal River National Wildlife Refuge whose headquarters were located a few houses down the street from ours, held an open house at Three Sisters Spring. The land surrounding the spring is part of the wildlife refuge and not accessible to the public, but they were open for a morning as part of the Manatee Festival's activities.

After seeing the springs from underwater, I was really anxious to paint them from above, and this would be my only opportunity. Herb and I got up early that morning so we could be among the first groups to be shuttled by van from a local shopping center to the spring. I brought my Guerilla Painter Box, gear bag and one 9" x 12" panel along with my camera. The refuge volunteers were very kind to allow me to leave my gear at their booth so we could walk around for a bit before I settled in to paint.

Early Morning at Three Sisters Spring.

It was quite chilly--there had been an overnight frost--and mist wafted over the water at the springs, giving a wonderfully mysterious atmosphere. Even at this early hour, snorkelers were already there, and lots of sleeping manatees could be seen in the crystal-clear water.

The Three Sisters Spring area consists of some fifty acres of land around the springs that were saved from development. The purchase took place just last year, and the state of Florida has plans to develop the area as a park with boardwalks and viewing platforms for visitors. The volunteers led us on a guided walk around the spring even though the banks were a bit muddy. We were allowed to explore the rest of the grounds on our own. Herb and I walked over to look at Magnolia Spring, farther downstream on the waterway. Magnolia Spring is in a neighborhood that was developed many years ago and has lovely homes around it--the actual spring was impossible to discern from where we were. Many birds could be seen and heard all about: robins, finches, sparrows, blackbirds, and other birds I couldn't identify.

It was time for me to get started painting. I chose a spot on the side farthest away from the booths and crowds and Herb left me there. Unfortunately, this was the windward side. The Spanish moss swung sideways with each gust of wind. The color of the moss in the dappled shade and the water were very difficult, and as you can see, I didn't manage to get either one right, but I had a great time trying anyway.

By eleven-thirty I was so chilled I packed up and went back to the other side of the springs and took more photos while waiting to get on the shuttle that would take me back.

The springs were now like Grand Central Station--lots of kayakers and snorkelers on the water, crowds on land--poor manatees! They didn't seem to mind much, though. They don't appear to have any fear of humans and in fact, some were quite curious and playful with the snorkelers.

Late morning at Three Sisters Spring

Kayaks entering Three Sisters Spring

If you are ever in the Crystal River area, Three Sisters Spring is not to be missed! More photos here on Flickr.

Swimming with Manatees

Herb and I were taking an exploratory walk around Kings Bay Drive one afternoon when we were greeted by a charming lady with a foreign accent. Pavla turned out to be an artist from Czechoslovakia--her American husband, Captain Fred Reed, is a local dive master, and their business, Art N Diving, offers personalized tours to see the manatees in Crystal River.

We agreed to go out with them late enough in the afternoon so the hordes of swimmers and paddlers at Three Sisters Spring, where the manatees hang out, would have thinned out. A high tide would improve our chances. The day was bright and sunny, but somewhat chilly.

Before starting out, we were made to watch a short video about manatee etiquette: one is not allowed to harass the manatees in any way. Harassment is defined as attempting to feed them or give them water (how one would give water to a manatee I can't imagine--aren't they already in water?), touching or approaching them, unless they approach you, and particularly separating any mother from her calf. No humans are allowed in the areas designated as refuges for the manatees. There are heavy fines and even jail time for anyone caught breaking these rules.

We were outfitted with full wet suits, masks and fins before boarding their boat and at their suggestion, I had brought a disposable underwater camera. The Captain cruised out of the canal behind their house onto to the main canal and then to Kings Bay. Out in the open water, the breeze was even colder--I was glad we'd brought our jackets.

Captain Fred Reed and Pavla

Herb on King's Bay

 The Captain took us around to our lagoon where we could see our rental house from the water, and then behind some islets past the King Spring, which is about 90 feet deep. A number of folks in the area told us the entire bay used to be crystal-clear years ago, but storm surges from hurricanes have made the water murky. There were buoys all around the bay indicating the refuge areas for manatees--no boats of any kind or swimmers are allowed there.

Our house

Crystal River has the largest population of manatees of the warm, spring-fed rivers on Florida's west coast. The manatee population is estimated at some four to five thousand individuals. The manatees swim up Crystal River in early November when the gulf waters start to get cold and stay until late March when the gulf begins to warm up again. The constant 72-degree water of the springs helps them to stay alive during the winter and prosper. We were told last year's record cold weather caused some one thousand manatees to die from cold stress.

After touring Kings Bay we went back towards the main channel and the entry passage to the Three Sisters Spring, which is marked with two posts. There were several manatees visible from the surface swimming lazily in the refuge areas by the banks of the stream as Herb and I entered the water. I got so excited I forgot the camera and the Captain called me back to hand it to me.

The water was pleasantly warm, and with the exception of a couple of kayakers, we had the springs pretty much to ourselves. The entry passage was narrow and we passed several manatees going in. I noted a large manatee tagged with a tracking device attached to his tail--the straps were padded so they would not hurt it and the tracker floated on the surface on a short line. I wondered what the manatee made of that.

Manatee with fish

Herb swims over sleeping manatees

Elena swimming with manatees

There were some thirty to forty manatees gathered at the spring, sound asleep. We were told they come up for air every twenty minutes or so when they sleep, though they must breathe more frequently when they are active. It was so funny to watch them come to the surface to take a breath, and then see them nosedive straight down again. Several baby manatees next to their mothers looked so sweet.  Herb and I swam around taking photos until our film was all used up. By that time our bodies were beginning to feel chilled, and it was time to swim back to the boat. Swimming with manatees is a celestial experience!

You can see more photos of our swim with the manatees in Flickr.

Fishing the Lagoon on Kings Bay

Fishing the Lagoon, oils on canvas panel, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.

The next morning was cloudy; mist wafted over the warmer water of the lagoon. I opened the curtains and saw a couple fishing on the lagoon. They were on a boat which was unusual to me--the boat seemed to glide with the prow pointing high out of the water and the man stood there working a rudder from the front with one hand while casting with the other. It looked most unstable yet the boat did not tip or shake. The motor idled with no wake.

Both the man and the woman were bundled up this chilly morning. They appeared to be expert casters, their bait skipping on the surface of the water as they reeled in. I wondered what kind of fish they were after. I brought out my pencils and a sketchpad and did some quick sketches as they plied our lagoon. They circled around a couple of times with no luck, and then moved on.

In the afternoon they came by again--by now they had shed their heavy jackets--and repeated the morning's ritual. After they had left, I went out on our dock with my painting gear and set it up to paint this scene, putting in the figures and boat from my sketches and memory.

Vacation in Crystal River

Crystal River Lagoon, watercolor, 10" x 5."

I never had a chance to post a single thing during our vacation--there was no internet connection at our rental house, and a few days later our laptop screen failed, so I am just catching up now with these postings from our vacation in Crystal River in Florida.

Herb and I drove off on the morning of Friday January the 14th and made good time on the road, but we didn't make it to Amelia Island where we had hoped to spend the night with friends. We had dinner in Savannah at a nice restaurant--the Sapphire Grill, and then found a hotel on the outskirts of the city off I-95. The next morning was pleasant--the frost that formed on the car overnight began to melt at about the time we got back on the road. The temperature rose to the 50's as we continued south.

We skipped lunch but stopped just outside Gainesville at a colorful fruit stand and bought some yummy-looking pomelos and Honeybell oranges to take to our rental house. We arrived in Crystal River in the late afternoon and managed to open the lock box as instructed, unloaded the car and went back out to find some groceries before settling in.

The house was not quite what I had expected--the view of the lagoon was wonderful but there were many houses around it, that illusion of wilderness I had hoped for was lacking. There was no back yard to speak of, only a somewhat deteriorated dock about 8' wide which faced north and got no sun at this time of the year. I had hoped to have a sunny spot where I could sit outside to paint, but since it was quite chilly at the time, that didn't seem very likely--maybe in a few days if it warmed up.

Spanish Moss, watercolor, 10" x 6."

The next morning I settled for painting from inside looking out the windows (it was really cold and windy). The first one is a small watercolor sketch of the view across the lagoon focusing on tiny section that looks wild. In the afternoon I tried another one, this time of the Spanish moss on the live oaks in front of the house. As the sun was going down I started to be tormented by no-see-ums or some other biting insect and realized I had forgotten to bring insect repellent, so I had to rush through this one to finish it. Anyway, here they are, for what they're worth.

Recycling Your Art

Recycling old paintings

When inspiration flags during the post-holiday blahs, a good chore to undertake is recycling old paintings. I gathered up all those old paintings that weren't too successful to begin with, and sanded them with rough sandpaper to smooth down any built-up paint. I then gave 'em two coats of acrylic gesso and presto! New panels for new paintings.

I'm really looking forward to our vacation in Florida. We'll start the drive down next Friday morning, spend one night on the road, to arrive in Crystal River the next afternoon. I am hoping the weather will be nice and allow for plenty of outdoor painting for those two weeks. One feels so cooped up in the winter in northern latitudes, even in mild areas like our Mid-Atlantic, tempered by the Chesapeake Bay and its rivers. A short mid-winter respite in warm weather can help one revive.

New Look for a New Year

On a New Year's Eve walk with my friends.

I've never liked those end-of-the-year/new-year's lists; in fact, I find them unutterably depressing! To most of us over a certain age, the turning of the year ends up being just another day we struggle to make memorable just because it IS a New Year, and after all, we need some milestones to mark the passage of time.

We start off each January full of hope and resolutions which gradually lose momentum until they are tossed aside with a twinge of guilt--the flesh is weak, we rationalize, or the time wasn't right--somehow nature conspired against the change. If we're lucky, on rare years, we manage to keep one or two of those resolutions that end up changing our lives irrevocably, and look back at those with wonder and gratitude.

The past year has been an eventful one, though not always in the ways one had envisioned--rightly so--what would life be without some surprises? Sometimes one small change starts a chain reaction that sets a number of things in motion, like a loose stone setting off an avalanche. A car accident in September forced me to replace my twelve-year old car with a newer one, which in turn encouraged me to replace my ancient cell phone; the breaking down of an old TV prodded us into upgrading to a new flat-screen and Blu-Ray. A new job offer much closer to home was a daunting but welcome change in the last three weeks of the year. I'll miss having my Fridays off, as well as the week between Christmas and New Year's, but it's still a good trade-off for the 75-mile-a-day commute.

To ring out the old year, yesterday I went down to southern Maryland to visit my friends in Accokeek. I'd hoped that perhaps it might be possible to paint outdoors, since the temperature has been rising to the mid-forties in the past few days. I really wanted a new painting to post. But the wan winter sun was not warm enough for comfort, so instead we settled for taking a walk along the Potomac River by Colonial Farm.

The ice was still fairly solid over the beaver pond along the road, and there were big chunks at the river's edge. The grasses in the swamp below the boardwalk were studded with lovely pools of snow and ice. Watching the ice floes in the middle of the river floating upstream lent the scene a surreal air--it took a few seconds to realize the effect was caused by the incoming tide. Mount Vernon was clearly visible on the opposite bank. Walking back toward the farm, it was feeding time for the animals. Colonial Farm raises what they call heirloom breeds, and I managed to take a couple of shots of their enormous Red Devon bull and one of the Ossabaw pigs before my camera battery ran down.

I learn a lot from my friends (and try to share what I know). Back at the house we talked about our art projects, blogs, photos and plans while enjoying some wine by the fire, and I realized I had never made use of Flickr to share photos with friends or readers of my blog. So today, to follow my resolution to try to become more tech-savvy and better integrate all the tech toys at our disposal, I have uploaded my photos from our walk onto Flickr in this set: New Year's Eve Walk. While I was at it, I gave the Maza Studio blog a new look for the new year. Hope you like them both. Your comments would be appreciated--please feel free.

Happy New Year!

Softer Winter Dawn

Soft Winter Dawn, pastel on Wallis paper, 12" x 9."

I wanted to paint another version of the winter dawn such as I've been observing during the past week. Most have been more muted, with the softer colors of a cloudier, more veiled atmosphere (with the snow almost gone). I thought pastels would allow me a different way to achieve the effect. I didn't realize I needed a wider a range of colors to make those subtle transitions from violet-blue to pink and peach in the sky. It's nearly impossible to mix pastels and keep the colors pure--you have to get as close to the exact val-hue as possible when you are dealing with pure pigment. A rough approximation, my painting seems a bit limited in range, but it strikes the right mood of mystery.

Winter Dawn

Winter Dawn, oils on panel, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.

This past week I started a new job much closer to home. As a result, I have been able to sleep later in the mornings and see the sunrise as I am getting up, instead of starting my morning commute in the dark. At our latitude, the sun doesn't rise until well after seven this close to the Winter Solstice--a date I look forward to as the turning point of the year.

On Thursday we had a light snowfall, perhaps an inch and a half. The next morning, the sunrise was gorgeous, and I took some photos to help me remember the amazing colors in the sky. I finally had a chance to paint it today, putting in a bit more snow than there actually was on the ground. I keep wondering what kind of winter this will be: will it be as harsh and snowy as the last one?

Staggered

Staggered, oils on canvas panel, 12" x 16." Contact artist for price.

The weather has turned quite cold and I haven't been motivated to endure the freezing temperatures outdoors, so I am continuing to experiment with painting from photos.

One afternoon a couple of weeks ago I went out to the McKeldin area of Patapsco State Park. With the season's shorter days upon us, there wasn't enough time to complete a painting before dark, but I had just enough time to further explore some of the trails where I have been painting, looking for new locations for next year. I took my camera with me in case I came across some interesting sights.

I made a circle from the Rapids Trail to the Switchback Trail down to the North Branch and walking back up the hill, came across this six point stag browsing the vegetation. I was able to take several shots before he heard the shutter and turned around to look straight at me. After a few seconds of staring, he took off with a flick of his tail, running down the hill. I followed, but by the time I got back to the river, he was crossing the stream too far away for a good shot. The sun was setting, illuminating the tops of the trees on one bank with that orange light so characteristic of the season and the reflections on the water were brilliant. The whole scene was reminiscent of Winslow Homer's unforgettable paintings.

When I got home and printed my photos, I thought combining two shots to put the stag at the edge of the stream might work. Here is the result of my experiment. It is convincing?

Golden Beeches

Golden Beeches, pastel on Wallis paper, 12" x 9." Contact artist for price.

This is a vertical format painting of the golden beeches on Rock Creek Park, based on the same series of photos from the week before. There are subtle differences from the previous week's painting in the way I handled the colors. I wanted to cool down the foreground leaves a bit so I experimented with layering some lavender on top of the yellow-green.

Both paintings have something of that lovely effect of a magical moment in nature that is so fleeting. By now most of the leaves have come down; the few that are left on the trees have dried to a crisp straw color.

Beech Wood at Sunset

Beech Wood at Sunset, pastel on Wallis paper, 9" x 12." Contact artist for price.
SOLD

Last Saturday as I was driving home from my plein air session on Rock Creek Park, a sight compelled me to stop at one of the pull-offs. I was on a steep slope deep in a wood of ancient beeches, with the sun sinking behind the hill. The leaves at the horizon were glowing with golden hues and the light reflected on the fallen leaves. The gray trunks of the beeches were blueish, a lovely effect. I had to capture this before it vanished.

A photographer had stopped there with his wife and young son in tow. We agreed this was a rare moment, and took as many pictures as possible. When I got home and downloaded my photos, I knew I had to paint this! Pastels, which I haven't worked with for some time, seemed like the most suitable medium for the piece. I happened to have a couple of pieces of Wallis paper prepared for such an occasion. Here it is--I'm working on a another image in vertical format which I'll probably finish this weekend.

Time Out of Time

Bridge Over Rock Creek, oils on canvas panel, 14" x 11." Contact artist for price.

In the city, with the temperature warmer than in suburbs, the trees usually turn later than where I live. Now that we've set our clocks back an hour, it's light enough in the early morning when I traverse Rock Creek Park on my way to work that I can see the colors of the foliage, and it seemed that last weekend would be the peak of color there.

Saturday was a rare day in a string of beautiful, sunny days we've enjoyed this fall. There was frost on the grass when I went out to get the morning paper, but it would soon be gone. I packed my gear and a sandwich, and set out late morning on my usual route to Rock Creek. On weekends and holidays, the main road through the park, Beach Drive, is closed to car traffic down to Blagden Road, about halfway downtown, so I had to take another road that parallels the creek high up on a steep hill.

A six-point stag scurried out of the way as my car started climbing up the hill. The beeches were golden and one could see bits of the creek way below peeking through the gaps in the foliage. I stopped to take photos along the way, and managed to find an empty place in the parking area across Blagden Road. The cyclists, joggers and nature-lovers were out in droves. I walked around looking for the best vantage point to paint the bridge on Beach Drive, and decided to have my lunch before starting to paint, to give the sun overhead some time to establish the direction of the afternoon shadows.

I put my easel in the middle of a thicket of vines, set back far enough from the bridge that the vines hanging from the trees framed the view nicely and painted all afternoon. Lost in my effort to get the right colors and shapes, I stopped only when the light had changed so much that the vines were now completely in shadow. I packed up my gear and walked back to my car. Surprisingly, it was only 3:30 PM--it seemed like so much more time had elapsed! How wonderful to feel for one brief afternoon as if one had stepped completely out of time. We would all be better people if once in a while we got some time out of time.