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.
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
Watercolor paint, probably Grumbacher and/or Winsor & Newton
(the colors still surprisingly bright after almost 40 years)
Craft brushes
# 2 Pencil
