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8:35 Sunset

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Last week I had a wonderful sunset walk with my daughters, and we watched in wonder and awe as the colors changed all around and up above us. Then the apricots, and pinks, and reds grayed, and finally turned from blue to dark. Our spell was broken. Miriam, my 6 year old broke the silence. She said “if I were the sun, I would do this every night.”

We are on the far side of the summer solstice now, and I am struck by how much the sunset has moved up from last week to this. Here are last night’s colors after the color works as they started to grey.

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Wall Walker

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My son walked into this landscape I was painting plein air.

I took a portrait workshop from Judith Carducci once, and she told us that if we could capture the shape of the shadow on the face we would find a likeness. Moving targets are tricky to capture, but I tried Judith’s method with the highlights on Micah…the top of his hat, his neck, down one arm, and his other elbow, the back of both legs…and there he was. Neat trick.

Micah likes to balance his way on top of things and through life. It is fun to watch.

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Changing Shape

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Turn, turn, my wheel! All things must change
To something new, to something strange;
Nothing that is can pause or stay;
The moon will wax, the moon will wane,
The mist and cloud will turn to rain,
The rain to mist and cloud again,
To-morrow be to-day.

The light was magnificent behind chimney rock, the sky a shocking blue. It only lasted a moment, so I caught it fast and loose in a little study. The clouds and light change quickly here, I am constantly trying to pause and notice before the moment slips away. A piece of the chimney fell off between the time I hiked the trail to the top last night and when I looked agin today. The changing made me think of HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW’s poem “Kéramos” written in 1878. The shape of Chimney Rock, and those 4 kids of mine…all things must change. Look quick before the moment slips away, indeed to-morrow be to-day.

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Rappelling on Enchanted Rock

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“Rappel”

Thirty-plus feet
Is
a
long
way
up.

Adrenaline surges:
fingers fumble,
palms sweat,
knees shake.

Breath quickens
and heart races.

The air is hot and dusty,
and the tang of old sweat and metal
is heavy in your nose. Your helmet slips
against your brow.

But there’s a reassuring tug
against your climbing harness,
the belayer yelling encouragement,
and you smile across the platforms
to your friend the next one over.

Then you grip the gritty rope,
breathe in deep,
inch towards the edge

and
leap.

-AMMCJ