A connection to place

I think we’ve all known special places that have deep meaning for us personally.

 Maybe we don’t always recognize it at the time.  There are several natural places that are special to me, but those with the deepest roots are woven from my childhood memories.  Colors and shapes, smells and sounds, and textures like the tactile velvet of new buds or flaking limestone. 

 The memories stay vivid and strong – some more so, some less.  Most of them comforting, but some, not so much.   They speak of my relationships with nature.  They are both known and unknown, some barely lurking within my subconscious.  What I remember most are not the events, but the feelings those connections gave me.

 

Maple leaves, owl feather, hickory nuts, and wild grape.

This is a small nature sketch done years ago, somewhere in the mid-1980s, of things collected on a walk through Iowa woods.  It was mid-autumn, and the season gave me treasures and a near infinity of browns and buff, with splashes of red and yellow.  Along the trail: leaves on limb and ground, sticks and branches and trunks and bark, seeds and frost-bitten fruits, empty acorn caps and sometimes a glimpse of gritty green. 

 The woods I rambled in are located in upper northeast Iowa, along a limestone ridge and bluff above a river.   It is a place of meditation, of quietness threaded with birdsong.   This is also a connection to a point in time.  Fall is a favorite season of mine; it feels like an important transition somehow, and I sometimes catch my breath waiting for the next thing to come.

It feels like a time to let life unwind, and a place to rest and heal. 

A sacred place.

 

Media:
Paper - unknown mass-produced watercolor paper pad, about 8x10"
Watercolor paint, probably Grumbacher and/or Winsor & Newton
     (the colors still surprisingly bright after almost 40 years)
Craft brushes
# 2 Pencil

As summer sighs into fall

 Silent wet earth beneath dry and papery leaf quilts, woven and stitched by summer, and a new story begins.  Fall to me always feels like a time of resting, a pause, a completion, but also a preparation for the next chapter.

 In southwestern Florida it is a quiet story, bathed in cooler breezes and high-weather clouds.  The sky a different blue, more hints of violet than the turquoise of summer.

A bit tattered and faded
at the end of summer, but still thriving.

 Many shades of brown beneath my feet crumble as I step; my nose flares with the rich earthy fragrance of decomposition.  Flashes of green against the deeply corrugated oak bark: a sturdy vine, thick as my thumb, grips with tiny tendrils to climb the sunlit canopy.  Virginia creeper -- this summer it has not been creeping, but steadily pacing itself, suddenly five more feet of leafy vines cover walls and tree trunks.

 The tiny greenish-white summer blooms became small green berries, and are now a velvety navy blue on scarlet stems, ready for bird and wildlife consumption.  A few of the leaves are already blushing with the cooler weather.

 

The slash pine tree has added girth – almost impossibly so.  Surely ki was a slender youngster not that long ago.  Now a stately column, dressed in large plates of bark in rust and gray and tan.  The cones will be dropping soon, hiding nut-seeds under tight scales, waiting for the time to open and feed the squirrel families nearby.  Right now the squirrels seem to be feasting on live oak acorns, sea grape and coco plum fruits. 

 The fruits of summer will continue as the marlberries ripen and new acorns continue to drop.  The wild coffee and Simpson stopper berries did not last long, but I think there may be some wild grapes out there.  These are all I have to offer, but I like to think that it’s enough of a way-station among the unsafe harbors.   

 Chittering background birds.  A mockingbird flips a tail and scolds.  Anoles skitter and skate through damp leaves.  A quiet time, but still full with the sounds of life.  There is alchemy brewing as summer sighs, and autumn whispers new secrets into the breeze. 

A flash of yellow, and fluttering wings in the birdbath.

 Media used: 

Canson All-media 90 lb. sketchbook
Mechanical pencil and Micron Pigma black artist pen 01
Mission Gold watercolors

 

 

International Nature Journal Week starts June 1st!

 Isn't this exciting?!  A whole week of nature journal inspiration as journalers celebrate International Nature Journal Week June 1 through 7!

Common violet, click to view larger.

Each day has a theme, with live workshops and how-tos.  Visit the International Nature Journal Week website to find out schedules, read blog posts, or learn how to participate yourself.  You do not have to be an artist or a naturalist to keep a nature journal!

The process of keeping a visual nature journal is a path.  It’s not about creating a finished product or a pretty picture.  My journals are a reflection of curiosity and discovery.  

 Every time I sketch something, I deepen my relationship with my subject by experiencing it differently.  I find myself asking questions and thinking more deeply.  I get to know my subject on a personal level.

My journals might be filled with quick sketches, detailed studies, photos, maps, poetry, or notes on observations.  We can record the progress of our garden, explorations of nearby habitats, or emotional responses to the beauty and diversity of the natural world.

Coral honeysuckle - loved by butterflies and hummingbirds!

Here’s what I’ve discovered that makes these journals valuable to me:  my drawing and painting skills have sharpened, especially when I draw on a weekly basis.  My observation has improved – I find myself specifically seeking out details in order to capture them on the fly or to write them down later.  My knowledge base is more dimensional; not only have I learned more, my emotional connection to nature has become more specific and I have a deeper sense of how individual parts fit into the whole.

Keep in mind the process, and don’t get over-involved with the outcome of each page.  As you practice, you’ll find your skills improving in every area!  Don’t be discouraged if you start and then stop.  When you’re ready, you’ll pick up your journal again and the words and pictures will flow onto the page.  Remember that it all “begins at the beginning” with that first step.  This is your exploration of the natural world around you!  This is your story to tell!

Here is some inspiration to get you and your family started!

Getting started PDF - quick ideas

Fun ideas for kids - PDF

Collections: the joy of small things in my nature journals

Sandstone rocks, Red Rock Canyon, Nevada

There is a magic in the small things of life.  All my life I have been a collector of bits and pieces of nature. 

 I’ve had soda crates filled with rocks under my bed, nests and feathers tucked into a shoebox, bits of leaves and flowers pressed into books, shells and driftwood in plastic tubs.  My parents begged me to leave the rocks behind when we moved.  How could I?  They were from places visited and each one held a memory – my own little Cabinets of Curiosities.

I love the tiny pieces of life that tell a story of the world around me. It might be a leaf; it might be an acorn cracked by a squirrel.  It might be a broken shell, maybe be a piece of wave-washed coral.  Altogether, these parts tell a whole story.

Things from my yard, Naples, Florida

I do my collecting in images now.  The act of drawing or painting an assortment of natural objects brings me joy.  Each page is a cabinet of curiosity, and each natural object relates to the other.  

 

What is it about humans that drives us to collect, store, and display these bits of the natural world?  I’ve only collected found objects, but there are big game hunters and orchid collectors and pot hunters who are not so benign.  I’ve often wondered at the motivation to gather these items.  What deeper meaning drives this behavior?  How does this shape our relationship to Nature?  

For me, it's because they tell of my travels and I want to revisit that story.   They represent discarded remnants (a fallen nest), or clues of a past meal (the cracked acorn), or a story of the passage of time (a fossil shell).  These are important things.  They are treasures, and they hold magic.  The magic is in the life that went before, and the story told now. 

On your next hike or visit to the ocean or park, look for those small pieces of nature – let them fill your life with that same magic of discovery that fills every joyful five-year-old child.   Let their story connect to yours.  These connections can fill us with humility, wonder, and awe of the vibrancy of life, until we are filled and overflowing, then to share our story.

Things from along the Upper Iowa River prairie bottom
Decorah, Iowa

Things from my yard, Naples, Florida

Things from the shore, Gulf of Mexico
Naples, Florida