more bloodroot, on a rainy day

I got up to work on a page in ART JOURNAL MMXX. It's a doodle ( "Zentangles") with a three leafed plant. I did one on a 3 x 5 sketchbook first, liked it so did another on 6" X 8" page.

It's a cold, April rain on this day before Easter.
We're having family tomorrow, so I cleaned my studio. The table has this bad habit of collecting scraps in an untidy pile. Every now and again, I sort, throw, and save from among the pieces. My collection of small  to very small pieces is stretching the box.

A quick trip outside was worth getting wet.

Yes, I took a picture of the bloodroot, again.

On Wednesday, I sewed with the second grade as we usually do.

They do the tracing and painting before we stitch the edges. For many, this was the first time they ever sewed.
For a few photos of little hands and needles check out my school blog http://www.ekesartistsworkshop.blogspot.com/

bloodroot Haibun

Ever since I saw  first saw Ruth MacDowell's quilt "Bloodroot", I have been entranced by this early spring flower. Its leaves grow through whatever is on the earth's surface in a finger-like protuberance. They blend with the ground cover. Then the pure white blossoms pop out of the tiny leaves still wrapped around them. The petals glow against the browns of the newly exposed garden's surface. They are particularly dramatic on a grey overcast day.
                                   Surprise me- again
                                   from brown seemingly nothing
                                   spring color returns.

Each year, and I have a series of photos to prove it, I am drawn to the section of the shade garden(#2 in my collection of gardens) where the  deeply articulated, graceful, rich green leaves of the bloodroot were last seen in the fall. Where are they, those little babies?, I wonder.
I will barely detect their fingers poking up.
I should clean the garden, but worry I will step on any new growths. 
Then, suddenly, I spot them and celebrate each tiny bump.

                                      Sing to me, phoebe.
                                     Sing and bounce on the tiny branch.
                                     My special spring firsts.

Today I picked a bouquet from the front garden (#7, oldest and largest of the collection). Brilliant yellow
daffodils now glow on the table top. Tulips will be next, then irises. But those marvelous bloodroot blossoms, so short lived and little, never make it to the table top. My memory and photos capture them.

                                         I  pathetically
                                         adore your your delicacy.
                                         stay longer this year.           

Am I such a dolt to question the wonder of the return of the bloodroot? the phoebe?
I'd like to think not. I am, however, inadequate in the face of the reliability of  Nature to cycle through her marvels. I am but a struggling keeper of the soil, a paltry observer of all these treasures as they come, and go, before me.
                     
                                         I pathetically
                                         write lines and photo again
                                         clear notes, white petals.



April 19, 2009




April 5, 2010



medallions with students at EKES

this student's best work ever

these are some negative shapes left when others cut circles

marker and cut paper

who knew the paper punch would be so popular

the paper punch added a little something to the rhombuses by taking away



this actually wraps around



cardstock and marker



even a simple drawing with marker is pleasing





the rhombus is the shape from our work with Emile Birch

 


two cardstock rombuses and a cardborad, handcut sun




Amazing what 3 shapes and a little color can do




this has a stanied glass look



3 rhombus, a square and a circle, red, white, yellow blue

Everyone's been making a medallion to wear as part of the "Solar Fest" on June 10th. After spring break, I'm providing supplies in the Teachers' room so each of them can make one.

jon brooks workshop

I was at a workshop at the Currier Museum in Manchester on Saturday. We each collaborated with nature and shaped a branch into a celebration. Mine is now in my garden at home. The Jon Brooks exhibit is a must see. www.currier.org

sunrise

The sunrise last Tuesday was stunning, and the sun was never seen again that day...

I heard the peepers on my walk and saw two great blue herons.
Seems we've gone from winter to spring.
I'm off to a workshop at the Currier Museumhttp://www.currier.org/ with Jon Brooks.
Tomorrow, "art share" with Dawn and Paula at Starbucks !!!

doodle page and snow "Thing"

I mounted this page to send to my sister. My song for the day was a Haiku-
                                 Springtime's heavy white
                                   moisture assists new green shoots
                                  four - one - eleven 

I did zentangles around the edges.

Yesterday, I had to repair my snow "thing" and I gave it a fourth tier. This morning it's standing tall and brilliant white.

The garden still had  snow to use in the repairs.

   Deezel watched. He at least doesn't attack the snowballs as I roll them, like Monty did.

Later, as we walked back from the mailbox, he stared at the stranger in the backyard.

                               

photos of "art journal 2011"

The doodles on the right originated in a "Doodle a day " calendar. The photo shows the tree that I kept studying on trips through the woods this winter. I have another page with multiple photos of the "Wood Spirit".

This page has the new bird stamp I bought, a hand cut from an art postcard and a door which conceals a little book.

The left side is a print out of a Haibun to the "Wood Spirit". The right  is composed of work at a workshop at "Wholly Scrap".

I am happy with the variety of appearances in this journal. I may be finishing it after four months.

April Fool's Day Nor'easter

We didn't get as much snow as was forecast. School was cancelled. I've been doodling and caching up with my letters to sisters. I composed a Haiku for a doodle.
                                   
                                                 Springtime's heavy white
                                                 moisture assists new green shoots
                                                  four  -  one - eleven

After a slippery walk through the woods (snowshoes would have helped), I built a snow "It" with no recognizable animal or human elements. It's the only one for this past season....
all the other storms gave us  soft, fluffy  and abundant flakes.