Morning

 

Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing
Praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

 

--Cat Stevens

Forty Days, Forty Nights

It has been dribbling, hailing, storming, pouring.  We're soaked.  There's a big maple at the back of our property that lost a large limb in a wind storm, and while the good news it that the limb missed the fence, the bad news is it smashed all sorts of bushes and spring ephemerals. This graceful jack-in-the-pulpit was laying flat, so I brought it inside for a closer look.

Why did I never do this before?  Such elegance and grace in a simple plant.

May Flowers - Before the Rain

Last winter we took a cruise, and in our cabin were two paintings, extreme close-ups of striped parrot tulips.  I was fascinated by these paintings and was anxious for it to be tulip time here in Wisconsin.  They are wonderful, pops of bright color after the gray of winter.  My photo probably doesn't do these justice, but I guess the real joy was in the looking.

Spring at Oak Hill

I was out photographing stones at Oak Hill, and noticed this tree in full blossom, near one of the more impressive obelisks. I snapped this picture, even though I would have preferred a blue sky. Looking now, I like the limited palette of the image, very little color except the green of the grass and new leaves.  Life, returning, as it does each spring.

Backpedalling

I began this blog a decade ago, when I was inspired by another woman's blog that had one beautiful photo a day.  I took photos of things in my corner of the world, and sometimes added poetry.  Then, over time, I began to concentrate almost exclusively on my art making, and my original intent was mostly pushed aside.

I'm feeling the need to go back to my original intent, at least for a while.  Winter seemed long to me, and I was plagued by nagging illnesses - nothing too awful, but enough to sap my energy and enthusiasm for making art.

So, for now, I want to return to more frequent photos of things I find beautiful in my life. I have a new camera that I really enjoy, so that is part of it. And maybe I'll hunt around for some poetry too.

 This is our local library, the Hedberg Public Library.  It's quite close to our house, so I visit several times a week, to find books and books on CD for the car, and to research for my cemetery walks. In the spring the Bradford pear trees out near the road are glorious, as are the tulip beds. We've been given nice weather for a few days, so they are showing off their blossoms in a spectacular way.

Yes, I am aware that Bradford Pear trees have their detractors, but today I am enjoying the blossoms.

On the Road to BS Corner

This week I did a "flash" trip north to visit my aunt in Algoma and my brother and sister-in-law near Baileys Harbor.  The weather was good, and I wanted to break winter routine and get out of the house for a few days.  I also wanted to drop off a couple miniature paintings with my aunt's neighbor, who will deliver them to the gallery owner who wants them for an upcoming show.  And, we are out of smoked fish, and I needed to visit Bearcats to restock.

This early in the season very few tourist places like galleries and custard stands are open yet, especially midweek, so when I made it to Door county, there weren't many distractions.  Sandy and I drove to Sister Bay to see if the Door County Creamery was open, but no luck there.  Then I remembered that her husband had talked enthusiastically about a nearby family who has a maple syrup operation. Could we visit?

Bingo!

This was the first time I ever saw a real sugar shack outside of a magazine article or in a book.  Louis and Betty Sohns have a farm with a shed dedicated to processing maple sap.  According to Louis, he has been involved in making maple syrup since he was a child, tapping trees and hauling the sap by cart to his neighbor, Bertha Reinhard.  He'd haul the sap, and then later take back home the finished syrup.  Later on he worked with them, learning the craft of making syrup, and now the WW II vet has a sophisticated operation, tapping over 800 maple trees each spring.  His father made syrup for just the family, but Louis learned commercial production from the Reinhards.  He and his son and daughter sell maple syrup to a list of dedicated customers, including my brother and sister-in-law.  Sohns told us it takes 40 gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup.

No photograph or written description can do justice to the experience of being in Sohns' sugar shack.  There is the scent of the wood burning in the sap evaporator.  Then there is the maple scented sauna steam that rises in the air, condenses on the ceiling beams and drips back down.  I have never smelled anything like it. And I was not expecting to be offered maple tea.  Louis dipped into the boiling sap in the evaporator, a liquid half way between clear watery sap and thick brown syrup, ladled it into a cup, and popped in a tea bag.  Heaven.  He offered to add rum, but I declined, though I did sample some from Ed's cup.  I was stupid to turn it down.

The operation uses a combination of old style equipment and new technology.  Each tree has old style taps and 12 quart buckets, just like Berta Reinhard used to use.  But Louis also uses a four wheel drive vehicle with a vacuum device to collect the sap.  In one field he also has a system of plastic tubing to collect sap, all of which empties into waiting collection tanks.  My impression was that Sohns invented many of the labor saving techniques himself.

Sohns seems genuinely pleased to meet new people and tell them his stories.  He hefted up this cross section of a windfall maple that he chopped and split to fuel the fire  in the evaporator.  He explained that each of the marks was a scar from a tap, a permanent mark for each spring season in the tree's long life.

OK, so what about bullsh*$% corners?  I've know for years that a nearby crossroads in the township had that earthy name, but Louis told us why.  Today the corner has a building that houses a weaver's retail establishment, but once the property was the location of the area creamery.  Local farmers would haul their milk there to be processed into cheese or butter, and would settle in with their neighbors to wait and shoot the breeze until it was ready.  Makes perfect sense.

So - an unexpected pleasure early in the season before the out of town tourists roll in.  It'll be a while before I forget the pleasure of drinking maple tea and soaking up stories.

Spring has arrived, at least according to the calendar.  We had a nice warm day a week or so ago. My husband dragged the patio chairs out of the garage and I hauled to pots of sedum and hens and chicks out of the cellar and into the sunlight.  I'm back photographing old headstones at the local cemetery for Find a Grave, despite the mud, and it is fine to be back tromping around outside.  The new found warmth did not last, however - today we're all back in long sleeves and wooly socks, which is how things go here in southern Wisconsin.  Gotta be flexible.

Spring is also when I hear from the little gallery I usually take small paintings to in Door county.  I received my annual letter from the owner recently.  Her miniature show is back after a year's hiatus.  This year she wants miniatures with a theme of hearts.  There is real potential here for more cuteness than usually appeals to me, but I sat down and started a couple ideas.

This is my cow portrait.  I bet you can find the heart.  My dad raised purebred holstein dairy cows, so I have first hand experience with the creatures.  The gallery owner suggested I send some of my little paintings with gold leaf, so I painting a cow portrait and gilded the background.

One of my friends said she looks angry, but I think she is just projecting something in her life into the cow.  Cows cannot really smile.

I'm also working on a slightly more whimsical piece with rabbits, but it isn't close to being ready to show the world.

Stay warm.

What a Difference a Week Makes

Spring in Wisconsin - if it is variety you're after, we have it. The last weekend of April I drove two hundred miles north to visit my dear aunt, who was turning 86, and to deliver some small paintings and collages to my gallery in Door County.  What I found when I arrived was another dose of wintery weather, cold, wind, and giant ice cakes floating in the chilled soup of Lake Michigan. 

I took this photo a week later here in southern Wisconsin at my local library.  We have green grass, flowers, in a word, spring.  I gotta say, it arrived none too soon.

The only issue for me is that after being pretty much cooped up for the last six months, I am wild to be outside.  I'm walking, working on planning some historic cemetery walks and photographing headstone, pulling weeds and planning my summer flowers.  I'm not doing any art.  I guess it will still be waiting for me upstairs on the next bad weather day.

May Flowers

It is such a lovely spring day that I decided to visit Rotary Gardens.  Their army of volunteers was out mowing, mulching, and planting.

There are chair and benches all over the gardens, and one that caught my eye today said:

The flowers are blooming

Spring's in the air,

Come sit for a spell,

No one will care.

Getting Out There to Paint

With the weather so freakishly pleasant, I decided I could not spend the afternoon in my upstairs studio.  My in-shape husband was out riding his bicycle, and I wanted to get some natural vitamin D for myself, so I gathered up my small watercolor sketchbook, traveling palette, brushes, portable chair and plastic bucket and drove a few miles outside of town to paint a bit.

I am not always a happy plein air painter, and one reason is the difficulties I often have with wind and sunshine that blow my papers around and dry my paint quick as a wink.  So today I decided that I was going to (1) paint quite small, and (2) try out something I saw in a post from another blogger.  It was a gizmo made from a legal document-sized clipboard ($2.00) adapted to serve as a holder for small canvases.  There is a wooden paint stirrer (free from the hardware store) glued at the bottom that serves as a lip to hold the canvas, or in my case, the little spiral bound watercolor sketchbook.  Another wooden paint stirrer gets held snugly in place with butterfly clips (from my junk drawer).  This home-made lap desk was perfect for sitting and painting today.  The clipboard provided a little more space for waxy crayons and a paintbrush, the metal clip kept my paper towels from being blown across the field, and the sketchbook was held snugly between the wooden paint stirrers. It's adjustable too - all you need do is move the top piece of wood to accommodate the size of your canvas or sketchbook.

I have other quirks that have occasionally made my experience painting outdoors less than joyful, and today I resolved to overcome them.  First, child of Depression era parents that I am, my inclination is to be a little stingy with my paint.  Today no parsimonious little dabs in the plastic travel palette, each well got a good fresh blob of watercolor paint.  My other issue is one of attitude; I want everything I do to be beautiful.  Well not everything I try turns out to my satisfaction, and today I decided to concentrate on the process; the results be what they would be.  It was much less stressful than other outdoor painting excursions, even though the results will never be shown in public - other than here.  I had fun.

Early Spring Photo Safari - Rotary Gardens

The snowstorm a little over a week ago has melted completely away in my back garden, though a few piles of dirty snow are still melting in parking lots that were plowed.  I decided to take advantage of this week's springlike weather - it was sixty degrees when I grabbed my windbreaker and camera - and take a walk in Janesville's Rotary Botanical Gardens before they start charging $5 admission on April 15th.  It turned out to be very pleasant, particularly because there wasn't another soul in sight.   There wasn't a sound except rustling leaves and robins and woodpeckers making a fuss.

Later in the spring, once the bulbs really start blooming, the place will be packed with people, visitors and volunteers, and there will be events, fund raising walks, weddings, proms.  But today I had the very early flowers, scatter beneath trees to myself.

I think of Wisconsin winters as being monotonous as far as color - or lack of it - goes.  The gardens do a nice job of providing visual interest even when there are no leaves on the trees.  In March the willows have the glowing yellow you see here, and the footbridge adds a shot of color year round.  Today I enjoyed the variety of trees for the sculptural effect of their branches, and was delighted at how many birds nests I could see.

The Japanese garden is my favorite throughout the year, with a winding gravel path, a little shelter, a stream and pools of water (not running today), shade in summer, moss, sculptures and a combination of evergreen and deciduous plants.  When I was teaching, before access to the gardens was limited and admission charged, I'd grab a thermos of coffee and sit in the garden early in the morning, composing my thoughts.  I took this photo through the window of the shelter, and managed to catch the sun before it hid behind the clouds.

I don't know too much about Japanese rock gardens, except that the raked gravel represents water.  I think the larger rocks represent mountains. 

The gardens have lots of real water too, and plenty of places to sit and watch it.  I like to stand on the bridge and look down, and sometimes when I'm luck I see fish or even soft shelled turtles.

This robin tolerated me for a minute before flying noisily away.  At that point the sun had disappeared and the wind picked up, so I ended my walk and came back home. After being cooped up for so long, it was good to get outside.

Willow Tree

11x14 inches, acrylic on canvas board (on top of the other river scene)

I've been playing around with painting along the Rock River, doing some outdoor sketching, some photography, and painting from both.  I want to paint outside, but I'm also a wimp.  I don't like to paint when it is windy or cold or raining, and it has been all of those things lately.  So, this was the result of a sketch and a photo reference I took at Riverside Park in Beloit. I swear, I was going to simplify forms more, and use more imaginative color, but I got all caught up in layers of color and, well, it is what it is. The painting does suggest what I like best about early spring, which is the effect of the first yellow green leaves and grass in an otherwise brown landscape.

I painted this tree in 2008, then last year there was a fuss about the tree when the parks department trimmed off the picturesque low-hanging limb.  Supposedly the limb was dangerous to park users, but I suspect somebody got a new chainsaw and wanted to try it out.  Maybe that's unfair.  Anyway, I closed on the twisted branches overhanging the river, and ignored the areas of amputation.  I may try painting this again in a different style.

Friends in My Garden

Spring is the nicest time in my shady backyard.  I love the yellow green of the new ferns, and the way the hostas and lily of the valley quickly grow, maybe as fast as corn in July.  These hardy plants grow where grass refuses to grow under the dry shade of the maple trees, which further endears them to me. But perhaps more than their hardiness and willingness to thrive despite lack of sunshine, I love them because my friend Kathy gave them to me, oh, maybe in 1992 or 1993, not long after we bought this house and decided to make a woodland garden where the thin grass used to be.

Kathy was an art teacher who lived up the block, and who used to join our little group for Friday morning breakfasts.  Little by little we got to know and like each other better, and part of that was because she had many hostas, ferns, beds of aggressive but fragrant lily of the valley, and was willing to share them with me.  We soon learned that digging in the soil was just one thing we enjoyed in common, and a friendship was born.

She and her husband Dave had a rustic cabin near Rhinelander, a simple A-frame place with no running water, an outhouse, a fire ring, set in the woods by a lake.  Heaven.  One spring she surprised me with a plastic pail of trillium taken from her property.  One or two still survive in my garden, hidden in the leaves of bluebells, but blooming to remind me of her friendship, even though she is no longer with us.

 Another neighborhood friend, Marcia, heard that I was looking for flowers that I could add to my shady beds, and she generously let me dig out a few bluebells.  Now, a couple decade later, I have drifts of the spring ephemerals, so many that I yank out fists full of volunteer plants that sneak into the grassy area where they are not welcome.  In a month they'll die back, and the area will only show Ehglish ivy and hostas, but in May the sea of blue never fails to remind me of the generosity of my neighboor friends.

All these plants are native, so they thrive despite punishing winter cold, summer heat and drought, and general neglect on my part.  Plants that aren't tough simply die out and are not replaced.  Because of their hardiness, I love to share them with other people looking for cost effective ways to landscape.  My school friends and ladies I've met since retiring have hauled away buckets of hostas, ferns, bleeding heart, buttercups, and yucca, and it makes me happy to be able to pas along the bounty.  Perhaps when they see their plants blooming they think of me, as I think of the women who have shared their bounty for my garden. 

Thin little leaves of wood fern, ribbed and toothed
By Frederick Goddard Tuckerman 1821–1873
from Sonnets, Third Series
                      IV

Thin little leaves of wood fern, ribbed and toothed,
Long curved sail needles of the green pitch pine,
With common sandgrass, skirt the horizon line,
And over these the incorruptible blue!
Here let me gently lie and softly view
All world asperities, lightly touched and smoothed
As by his gracious hand, the great Bestower.
What though the year be late? some colors run
Yet through the dry, some links of melody.
Still let me be, by such, assuaged and soothed
And happier made, as when, our schoolday done,
We hunted on from flower to frosty flower,
Tattered and dim, the last red butterfly,
Or the old grasshopper molasses-mouthed.

Fishing

Two guys fishing last Thursday in Beloit

Fishing, His Birthday
By Michael Sowder Michael Sowder

With adams, caddis, tricos, light cahills,
blue-wing olives, royal coachmen, chartreuse trudes,
green drakes, blue duns, black gnats, Nancy quills,
Joe’s hoppers, yellow humpies, purple chutes,
prince nymphs, pheasant tails, Eileen’s hare’s ears,
telicos, flashbacks, Jennifer’s muddlers,
Frank bugs, sow bugs, zug bugs, autumn splendors,
woolly worms, black buggers, Kay’s gold zuddlers,
clippers, tippet, floatant, spools of leader,
tin shot, lead shot, hemostats, needle nose,
rod, reel, vest, net, boots, cap, shades and waders,
gortex shell and one bent Macanudo—
I wade in a swirl of May-colored water,
cast a fine gray quill, the last tie of my father.

A Beautiful Morning

Spring has finally arrived in southern Wisconsin, with trees beginning to bloom, grass (and weeds) springing up, and people shedding their heavy coats.  I decided to head to Beloit, ten miles south, to scout out places to paint next month.  The Rock River is high, but behaving itself pretty well so far, not like in 2008 when it flooded and caused millions of dollars in damage.

 

Redbud, crab apples, pear trees, all are in bloom, just in time for Mothers Day this weekend.

The Canada geese are apparently guarding their nests, because they were in a testy mood as I walked along Riverfront Park.  They hissed and assumed threatening postures, but never really caused me any trouble.

This old tree was the subject of a minor uproar last fall when it was trimmed back by the parks department.  I may paint it again, just not from an angle that shows the amputated low overhanging limbs.

Nobody was out in the paddle boats yet, but the water was so blue against the yellow plastic boats that I had to stop for a photo.

Yes, it was a nice morning, for a walk, or for getting out a fishing pole and spending time with a buddy.

Crowds of Daffodils

Cool weather has made lots of our spring flowers a little late, but it has also kept my front garden colorful for two weeks already.  This is just a small patch of my daffodils.  They cheer me up every time I see them, and I planted about a decade ago so that I can cut with no hesitation.  This little garden has also been infested the last couple years with some purple flowers on stalks, and creeping charlie, but I'll worry about the invasives once the daffodils are done.  For now I want to just enjoy the exuberance of bloom.

BTW, these were taken with the camera that got wet on my last outdoor painting excursion.  Apparently it still works, though it doesn't make the "click" noise when I take the shot. I guess I can live with that.

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud   
  That floats on high o'er vales and hills,   
When all at once I saw a crowd,   
  A host of golden daffodils,   
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,      5
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.   
 
Continuous as the stars that shine   
  And twinkle on the Milky Way,   
They stretch'd in never-ending line   
  Along the margin of a bay:      10
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,   
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.   
 
The waves beside them danced, but they   
  Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:—   
A poet could not but be gay      15
  In such a jocund company!   
I gazed, and gazed, but little thought   
What wealth the show to me had brought:   
 
For oft, when on my couch I lie   
  In vacant or in pensive mood,      20
They flash upon that inward eye   
  Which is the bliss of solitude;   
And then my heart with pleasure fills,   
And dances with the daffodils.   

                                       --William Wordsworth

Wildflower Walk

This afternoon the sun was out, and I decided to return to Riverside Park to photograph some of the wildflowers I saw a couple days ago on a hike I took with my husband.  That day was cool and overcast, and all weekend it rained, but today was perfect.  Over the past few years volunteers here in Janesville have spent hundreds of hours rehabilitating the park, and especially rebuilding this segment of Wisconsin's Ice Age Trail.

There are lots of steep stairs to climb, though the sturdy handrail is helpful on the old stone steps.  

The path itself is narrow, and has not railings, though there is a steep slope that falls to the Rock River below.  In the spring before the leaves are all the way out, the path is strewn with hundreds of wildflowers.  

There were many more of these Dutchman's Breeches last week.  Apparently the rain we had on Saturday and Sunday beat the tender while blooms to pieces.  I found this little clump, though.

These white flowers carpet the hillsides and bottoms of the limestone outcroppings in the park.  I am not sure, but think this might be a false rue anemone.  

 I really need a wildflower guide to the upper Midwest.  Is this a type of buttercup?

This is another flower I need help in identifying. I'm leaning toward woodland phlox.

This one is easy because I have it all over my back yard, and it is Wisconsin's flower symbol, the blue violet.

I think this is a yellow bellwort.  Not a pretty name, though the blossoms are elegant.

A couple of my flower portraits didn't turn out - the wild geranium and the spring beauties were simply out of focus.  I was too late for the blood root flowers, and too early for the trillium, trout lily and May apple  That's fine, because it will give me an excuse to return to the path and see what treasures are there to be found.

Also, the Hedberg Library  has an exhibit of more professional wildflower photos, so maybe I'd better go there for help in identification.  Or, maybe I'll go on the guided walk this Saturday, May 1, at 10:00 AM.