The light was subdued on this cold, rainy afternoon. The forest, and trail were still beautiful.
Confection Perfection
I spent my weekend playing in the Ouachita Mountains in Arkansas. My husband ran a 100 mile trail race through the woods called the Arkansas Traveler 100. The thermometer never dipped above 42 degrees, and it rained, or poured almost all weekend. He had a great race, and we, a great time, in spite of the weather. Around midnight we stopped at an aid station to wait for Matthew, and we were invited to warm ourselves by this fire. It was seriously the best campfire I have ever seen, these campers had been tending it for 3 days, so the rain did not dampen its lively spirits. The glowing coals were probably 8 feet in diameter, and they had s’mores!
Many thanks to the strangers in the woods who offered us hospitality. Here are some poems for the rest of you to enjoy.
Toasting Marshmallows
BY KRISTINE O’CONNELL GEORGE
I am a careful marshmallow toaster,
a patient marshmallow roaster,
turning my stick oh-so-slowly,
taking my time, checking often.
This is art—
a time of serious reflection
as my pillowed confection
slowly reaches golden perfection.
My brother
grabs ‘em with grubby hands
shoves ‘em on the stick
burns ‘em to a crisp
cools ‘em off
flicks soot
eats quick.
I’m still turning my stick.
He’s already eaten six.
S’MORES
By Gregory K.
The campfire burns. It’s 9:08.
I feel so good cuz I just ate
Two graham crackers, and chocolate, too,
With marshmallow turned to warm, white goo.
A treat indeed, a dripping mess.
A touch of melty joy — oh yes!
It’s bedtime soon, but I’m not done.
I simply cannot stop at one.
Because, you see, it takes three s’mores
To make a night of happy s’nores.
Yellow And Blue
Frantic, fluttering
Yellow against cold blue sky
The Aspen leaves fall
4×6 study in pastel on sanded paper tinted dark red
Primary rooster
This rooster was a 10 min. Demo for a student art class. I used student pastels on sanded paper. Pastels on sanded paper, I should know that song and dance by now…the student pastels created a multi-colored, pig-pen, whirl of a mess. Wow! What a mess.
Harvest-Fields
The Harvest Moon
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A touch of cold in the Autumn night
It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes
And roofs of villages, on woodland crests
And their aerial neighborhoods of nests
Deserted, on the curtained window-panes
Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes
And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests!
Gone are the birds that were our summer guests,
With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!
All things are symbols: the external shows
Of Nature have their image in the mind,
As flowers and fruits and falling of the leaves;
The song-birds leave us at the summer’s close,
Only the empty nests are left behind,
And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.
4×6 study in pastel on abergine sanded paper
“Dream-Seeking Trail”
“You cannot be wimpy out there on the dream-seeking trail. Dare to break through barriers, to find your own path.”
~ Les Brown
My husband is a runner, a trail runner. He loves to cover ground, through nature, on foot. We have many friends that also run trails, and they support each other through wild, rugged terrain. I am grateful for the friendships that have formed over the miles and years.
“Jump!”
Sometimes you gotta jump,
Just to see if you can fly
– -:miranda lambert
Painting the Trail to Box Canyon
I love to paint the painter. This trail is a favorite to hike and paint.
Pack’s Point and Orphan Mesa
After a delightful day of hiking on the ranch, I squeezed in a plein air painting. It was a beautiful evening, and a I had the great company of my old friend Brandon. The light was flat, but the air was crisp!
Chama River Valley
I did this plein air painting yesterday afternoon just before the sunset. I loved the way the light snuck through the valley and spilled out onto the river bank. It touched all of the yellow plants and turned them GOLD. Beautiful. I painted with Christ in The Desert Monastery to my back. When the bell rang for Vespers the light had changed drastically, so I packed up and slipped into the chapel to chant with the monks. What a beautiful way to end the day.
paintandsimple 