TREADING WATER: PART ONE

 It's early March where I'm sitting. In the past few days the temperature has risen above 0C, and coupled with the warmth from the sun our snow accumulation has been reduced to not more than a foot out in the bush. The sap is running, and some of the willows have buds. Spring is on the way.

In the meantime, I'm treading water making thumbnail sketches, and anxiously awaiting an opportunity to get outside, and make a sketch, or two. I'm becoming very long in the tooth, so I'm a bit more than anxious to get out and sketch, as with each passing year the opportunities get less, and less....

To pass the time, having run out of words to make a poem, or two, I picked up a piece of drawing paper, actually print making paper and have begun to make a bit of a small drawing of Pic Island up in Lake Superior. Here's Part One in the development of the drawing....

Pic Island- Lake Superior.  Pencil drawing on beige paper.  2023

I begin by roughing out an outline, then with a paper stomp  go over some of the lines and with some residue left on the stomp do a bit of work on the sky, and work on the island, while creating a few trees on the mainland. I'm working back and forth, getting lost in an overall design. In time things start to take shape....the thing is, despite the fact that there are moments when I feel that I'm losing it, I continue on. Sometimes there's a lot to learn when things don't work out as you expected. The trick is not to give up, keep on, keep on....

Come back tomorrow, or the next day, and I'll try to do a bit more, and have Part Two ready for you to see the development...In the meantime, here's a bit of a springtime poem....

THE MARSH 

Winds blow steadily from out of the north, and 

whips darkening clouds

across the once blue ,

sunlit,

sky.

The marsh,

once green and lush,

with waters filled with life, 

is now frozen,

snow covered, and seemingly,

devoid,....

of all life.

The snow swept shore
is ringed by dead cattails, that clatter,
and chatter,
defying...
the wind.

A coyote,
chased by the wind,
sniffs the air, and
finding nothing there,
seeks shelter in the Dogwoods, and cedars, that
cling to the shore.

Dried grasses swirl and sway

in the wind, 

and create patterns on new fallen snow.

Ravens that once circled high in the sky
seek shelter
in nearby pines.

The wind blows relentless with no end in sight, but 

with the night

thereʼs quiet, and

the stars, 

slowly,

come into sight.

Snow and cold comes, 

and stays,

until,

one day,

the sun lengthens its stay.

Out on the ice there are patches of water.

The wind,

once threatening,

is now beckoning, and 

geese soon appear.

Life banished by the cold, 

slowly creeps back,

here,

and there.

Spring, finally, itʼs here.