The Pleasure of Chaos, 2018, Archival Digital Print
The question for all of us is how we give our gifts back. It is the sole reason we are here and while it would seem an easy mission, in truth, for many, a clear sense of purpose is never formed out of the fog of being. There are always diversionary activities, and with enough of them one can fill up a life. But to what end? If we aren’t aware of gifts then we cannot discover our purpose and we will never live fully.
Pink Dogwood, 2018, Archival Digital Print
The discoveries continue on the Homestead. Walking in the back I discovered a tall pink Dogwood is full bloom. Last spring it was barely noticeable. All my pruning has paid off. It has sunlight now and can breathe and blossom. Like all living things, we need air to breathe, nourishment and care.
The girls are growing up, 2018, Archival Digital Print
In a matter of hours, from the morning feed until the evening one, the six Claras went from adolescent chicks with pale beige feathers and lots of down showing to young hens with russet feathers, real chicken tails and the beginnings of combs. Now I wish I had been in there all day and snapped a photo once an hour. What a transformation as life does its thing.
May Rain, 2018, Archival Digital Print
Everything is muted in these spring mists, all values close and a general dreaminess about the land. I saw a social club of six Turkeys out for a walk in the mist as I was driving to the store to get, what else? bird seed. They ambled along together with full ruffled feathers so they looked like grade school bulletin board Turkeys there in the cornfield behind the homestead.
The Backyard, 8 A.M., 2018, Archival Digital Print
The Earth is awake and blossoming, full of new life and optimism. Persephone is freed from Hades and Mother Earth is joyous.
Up here everything conspires to give pleasure, sight, smell, sound. I live in a paradise. Yesterday a big Crow paid a visit to my front yard, a first. There is a family of Ravens nearby but rarely I hear or see Crows, so this is the first time I’ve seen one land and hang around. He was glistening, curious and a gift to me. I have ground round in the refrigerator for him if he comes back. I’d like him to be a regular.
I’m thinking a lot about watercolor and plan to set up a table near where this shot was taken so I can sit out and observe and paint. In spite of my respect for the medium, I had a show of watercolors that went on tour throughout the United States in the late 70s, I haven’t touched them since then, preferring gouache instead. I’m ready to see what happens.
Two Claras, 2018, Archival Digital Print
This was taken over a week ago and already the girls are the size of Bantams and much more curious about the world. Clara Christina Columbus now jumps on top of the water jug to consider where she might go. To prevent her giant leap for Chickenkind I’ve added screening. The Columbus chick is the most curious of the six whereas Clara Voyant, named by my neighbor, Betty Grindrod, is dreamier and in her own world. And Clara Madonna, the bottle blonde, is just taken with her own beauty. Their markings and personalities are all different and I continue to marvel at the wonder of growth, DNA wiring and individuation. My brilliant former TA John Gross is coming up from New York this weekend to help me prepare the shed and soon the outdoor pen will be replaced with a varmint proof construction. Then we shall await the eggs.