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Ask anyone who knows me, they will all attest to my love of winter.
However this one has been a bit too cold and is becoming a bit too long.
So this weekend we walked the Niska Trails here in Guelph 'looking for signs of spring'.
A bitter North wind was there but in the lee of the tree's along the river, a place where the strengthening sun made an appearance there was warmth.

Sitting by the river, listening to her sing on her merry way, freed from her icy prison once again. Listening ,with the sun on your face one could very easily be fooled into thinking spring had arrived.

Then, as we walked around the loop and we approached the Northern side of the woods winter was waiting ...

As we approached the wind saw us coming and raced across the open fields and found it's way through the tree's to send shivers through us.

Two seasons in one morning ....

"It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.: ~Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Yesterday I began a journey, a journey back.
Yesterday I had my 'first' lesson in watercolour painting.

Constance, my teacher, a very accomplished watercolourist in her own right has been cajoling me, poking me with a metaphoric stick and pushing me towards this day.

Yesterday I gave in ...

But I had been preparing, recently my friend Patrick loaned me yet another book:
Art and Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland..

In that book I saw myself:
You see in 1994 'the pen ran dry' and I put away my brushes, paints, paper and all the accouterments of my art.
I quit, or did I stop ?

" Quitting is fundamentally different from stopping. The latter happens all the time.
Quitting happens once. Quitting means never starting again-and art is all about starting again"

So, I stopped, for 20 years. Now it's time to start again.

But oh its hard and it's frustrating. I look back at what I did and I look at what I do now and wonder,
Why?
Will I ever be able to paint and draw again?
Can I get back that which is lost?

Again words come " you are as good today as you can be" that is not as good as I once was .... but tomorrow will be different, "tomorrow I will be as good as I can be tomorrow."


"An artist's career always begins tomorrow". ~James McNeill Whistler

p.s To some, the one minute sketch may look like a scribbled mess but to me I see life,
to me I see the essence of a person,
to me I see a beginning..

As part of my renewed interest in drawing, sketching and painting I am reading a book by Ernest W. Watson entitled 'The Art of Pencil Drawing' first published in 1968 so it is my no means new in fact this book was written shortly before he died in 1969.
Old it may be, outdated ? Absolutely not. The man was a master of the pencil and an excellent writer/teacher.

This blog post is about one small section of his book, his love of tree's, in particular dead tree's.
Now that to some may sound morbid but let me explain in his words;

"Tree's, like human beings, often do astonishing things. Their eccentricities are intriguing. They twist and turn in the most unexpected ways-almost always, it would seem with an instinctive sense of good design. And when they die , they do so with dignity and artistry....
... For it is the skeletal structure of tree's that fascinates me, particularly those that are aged enough to display the character which they have acquired during their lifetime"

I look upon old tree's this way also, they are truly majestic in their own way. As they age and decay the bark falls revealing the essence of their character the colours, hues, textures become a road map, fascinating in its complexity or simplicity.

Yesterday while walking in the Arboretum woods. We stopped to examine and old, dead tree, no more than a stump really, slowly returning to the forest floor that bore it many many years ago.
Fungi, lichens, insects had all taken up residence and added new life to that which had passed on.
Patrick talked of the tiny fungi/lichens that were visible not to long ago but eluded of meager vision now.
We may not have been able to see them but no matter, we could see where they had been.
Another landmark on the map that is the life of this tree that still stands with "dignity and artistry.."

Next time you are out and pass by one stop for a while, look closer and listen to the stories it has to tell

"The oaks and the pines, and their brethren of the wood, have seen so many suns rise and set, so many seasons come and go, and so many generations pass into silence, that we may well wonder what "the story of the trees" would be to us if they had tongues to tell it, or we ears fine enough to understand." ~Author Unknown, quoted in Quotations for Special Occasions by Maud van Buren, 1938

Towards the end of the work week is when we start to firm up our 'Saturday outings' plans.
This time however one of the Three Amigo's was in a bit of a creative slump. I was in the mood for an adventure.

Recently I had visited the Belgian Nurseries which is very close to where I live, I was looking for a particular plant that my wife was interested in.
What I found was a world of photographic and artistic wonders. I could not wait to visit with my cameras and sketch books.
I spoke with someone who I thought was the owner, seeking permission to wander around and they were most accommodating.

So therein lies the problem, me desperate to go and revisit, my amigo ...well not so much.. "a great pile of pots, eh"? Was his reply as I tried to fire his imagination...

Despite his trepidation he came along trusting me. Heck he even drove!

After our arrival it took only a few minutes he pulled out a camera and he was off. Three hours went by in no time at all we barely remember any of it in a flurry of creation, camera's clicking pens and pencils flying across clean white pages.

All too soon it was time to leave Doug said "OK now you can say I told you so" but I didn't because I wasn't sure he would see what I saw.
He admitted that he had been to the nurseries many times seeking out plants or bits and pieces for the garden but never realised what was there.
My explanation was 'but then you were not seeing as a photographer sees'.
Me? I'm just happy that once more my friend trusted me to come along and that his trust in my judgment was not misplaced.

"As you start to walk out on the way, the way appears". ~Rumi

Yesterday was one of those days ...

One of those days that tell you, in no uncertain terms that the seasons are turning once again.
Across the open fields, the chill wind spoke of Winter but in the groves of tree's the delicate warmth of an ever strengthening sun cut through the chill to warm the body, the mind and the soul.

And flocks of geese fill the skies ...

The signs are everywhere if you only take the time to stop, look and listen.

Yes there maybe another snow storm on the way and my friends in England are tolerating tremendous gales and flooding but the armies of spring are on their way and will not be denied.

"Hark! the hours are softly calling
Bidding Spring arise
To listen to the rain-drops falling
From the cloudy skies
To listen to Earth's weary voices
Louder every day
Bidding her no longer linger
On her charm'd way
But hasten to her task of beauty
Scarcely yet begun".
~Adelaide Anne Procter

When it's -20c outside and you have the choice between staying in a warm bed or getting up, getting dressed, throwing your gear and snowshoes into the car and heading out, how many would choose the latter?
Well I know three who would.
Two of the 'Amigo's" met in a local parking lot. The third "Amigo" Doug was digging himself out of the snowdrifts around his cottage but he was with us in spirit.

In February the winter lies deep, the woods are silent, the air crisp, clean and invigorating.
We walked for an hour, pausing occasionally to take in a scene or just to listen to the silence. Then we moved on again our only companion was the crunch of fresh fallen snow under our snowshoes.

As Doug would call it "glad to be alive weather".

February; deep winter but the sun is beginning its slow march north and gaining in strength as each day passes...

"It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it". ~John Burroughs, "Winter Sunshine"

To some, it can be a humbling experience, to others just a walk with friends...

I'm sure that Doug will agree that an outing with Patrick is always the former. Yesterday the "Three Amigo's" met at the Arboretum in the U of G.
The softly falling snow was really a harbinger of things to come, that is why Doug was home instead of in Tobermory.

So the "Three Amigo's" rode again.

A wonderfully soft morning, the biting cold had abated at least for a few days, the snow deep the light perfect, the banter warming.

We wandered the woods waiting for images to present themselves.

Coming together, drifting apart, watching, looking, feeling, waiting...


"While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see". ~Dorothea Lange

The snows lie deep after yet another storm.

Normally I would be out enjoying this weather but
I am at home recovering after surgery this last week.

Still it doesn't mean I cannot record an image or two. My 'Photo of the Week' this week was taken through the window..
An image of my BBQ, sculptured by Winters hand.

As my tag line on my email says "In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary." ~Aaron Rose

This is especially true in winter.
The landscape is transformed into a world of black and white. Mother Natures colourful pallette has been put away and replaced with charcoal, pencil and ink.
No less beautiful, just different if you have the eyes to see....


'[W]hat a severe yet master artist old Winter is.... No longer the canvas and the pigments, but the marble and the chisel'. ~John Burroughs, "The Snow-Walkers," 1866

When we stepped out from the shelter of the tree's the wind cut like a knife. Whipping across the frozen marshes to find us then seeking out all the chinks in our armour. Fingers refused to work after a minute or two, glasses and camera viewfinder fogged up with each breath.

Welcome to Canada in the winter ...

I am always amazed at how anything survives our brutally cold winter season especially the birds. The tiny Chickadee's, the Nuthatch, and the Junco's; so small, so fragile and yet so resilient.

Grindstone Marsh in the Botanical Gardens, Burlington is a magical place in all seasons but in winter the tree's are alive with birds who over winter here and are well fed by the people who come for a walk and bring bags of bird food.

If you are up and about and are the first to break trail in a morning you are welcomed, first by flocks of chickadee's who then attract the larger birds.
Mr and Mrs Cardinal couples arrive, then the Blue Jays, all looking for a breakfast handout after a cold night
Just as suddenly as they arrive they vanish, the woods silent, no excited chirping, no 'chick-a-dee-dee' sounds.. Why?

Well if you look up you will see why, all this fuss has caught the attention of the local bad guy.
High above, the hawk circles looking for his breakfast too.

Everyone sits quietly until he moves on then they are back flocking around once more.
What a great way to raise your spirits on a cold morning to watch the antics of our feathered friends and to wonder how on earth they survived the night...

"Those little nimble musicians of the air, that warble forth their curious ditties, with which nature hath furnished them to the shame of art." ~Izaak Walton

No photographs this week, nary a one...
I cannot remember the last time I didn't have any images.
In my defence I did try, on the way out of the Ignatius Centre yesterday I stopped to photograph an apple tree in the fog. Looked good 'in phone' but I had the sizing all wrong in reality its the size of a postage stamp, so no help there.

However, yesterday Patrick and I ( the third amigo, Doug is sick with something that we don't want to catch so he is banished for a week) met at the Ignatius Centre here in Guelph. The plan was to wander the foggy lanes or if it was too icy / rainy then we would venture indoors for some pencil and paper time.
The driveway was impossibly icy and so was the parking lot.
Rain on ice = walking on ball bearings, so we headed indoors to seek out interesting subjects to draw.

One thing I have found with sitting down with a pad and pencil is time simply vanishes. We sat down at about 8:00am and next thing its 11:00 am and three sketches had appeared in my sketch book

A quote from Bert Dodson in his book Keys to Drawing confirmed my suspicions..

" Ordinarily, involvement in a drawing is like involvement in a dream. You are seldom aware of the passage of time"

So it's not just me ..

So my blog this week is about the other, older form of 'painting with light', drawing and its use as a time machine.