Winter Jasmine

Today was another spring-like day, high around 70 and a steady warm breeze from the south. The garden got some attention this morning (winter cleanup), and then Radu and Winston accompanied me for an exercise hike on the pipeline - no wandering or stopping to draw allowed.   Back at home I was in the mood to draw a flower, so I poked around the Lenten Roses looking for a bloom or bud, but nothing is happening yet.  The only two plants I could find with blooms were common Chickweed with its tiny white flowers, and Winter Jasmine, just beginning to bloom under the Sparkleberry trees.  All the regular birds around the house and feeders:  Tufted Titmice, Cardinals, Chickadees, Goldfinch, Purple Finch, White Throated Sparrows, Carolina Wren.  While I was drawing they zipped over my head and all around.  A Red-bellied Woodpecker chirruped from a high tree.

Running Cedar

This afternoon was bright and warm with a cloudless blue sky.  After being gone for a week, it was mighty nice to have a day like this for a hike.

The dogs and I settled down in a section of piney woods beside Meetinghouse Creek that is covered in running cedar, dotted with Christmas Ferns.  Sun rays found their way through the treetops and made the green carpet glow in spots, and a breeze rustled brown leaves clinging to three small red oaks nearby. I drew for a while, but when the wind picked up I suddenly wanted to feel warm sun on my head, so I hiked back out to the pipeline and resettled.   Chickadees, Kinglets, and Tufted Titmice flitted about in the pines.  What I thought was a strange bird or a tree frog turned out to be two trees rubbing in the wind. SQUEEEEEEEK!  

Winter Solstice

This morning started off cold and quite windy, but by the time I'd hiked to the top of the rocky ridge and back down to Meetinghouse Creek, and then settled on the sunny, northern edge of the pipeline (facing the sun) to draw, it had become more comfortable.   Although at its lowest point of the year, the sun felt plenty strong and flooded my fleece layers with its Solstice heat. Off came the scarf.  Off came the hat.  If I hadn't been intent on drawing Hickory Nut shells I would have been tempted to curl up like a cat in the brown leaves.  

It was very quiet today, only a few crows in the distance and occasional chirrups and pecks from a Hairy Woodpecker across the way. As I drew I heard tiny click-clack-rattle sounds in the leaf litter behind me, so I turned to investigate.   Other critters had come to life in the sun. Five or six small brown beetles with yellow legs (Spiney Soldier Bugs) were marching up and down and around the leaves.  Scritch-scratch.  Scritch-scratch.  Also, a tiny two-inch long Green Anole (brown today, to match the leaves) had crept up a folded leaf to soak up some sun.  He stretched.  He blinked.  As I watched the anole I was surprised and delighted to see him acting rather like a cat -  first, he rubbed his face up and down many times on the edge of the leaf, much like a cat will rub his face on a box edge or chair, for a scratch, and then he used his back leg to scratch himself behind his head!  I swear he did this.  I saw it.  As he warmed he moved slowly on the big leaf, around and around in a circle, and finally slipped back into the leaf-litter underworld.  

Lichen

Most of today we had heavy fog, occasional drizzle, and water droplets that fell with regular splats onto brown leaves. By the time I headed outside (around 4:00),  the fog had thinned enough to allow the pale winter sun to shine through. Fleeting shadows stretched long across the grass, and it even warmed up a little - after being a steady 50 degrees in the fog, in the last hour of day I bet it came close to 60 degrees.  Fall crickets started singing while I sat on the pipeline and watched the sun drop into blue misted hills.  

The lichen I drew was a simple version of what I really wanted to draw (but was too big)- an old pine trunk I found that was hollowed into a narrow trough. It looked as if it was designed for exactly what it held -  a moss & lichen garden. It was so beutiful! Lichen colors are quite vibrant set against the sepia of wet wood.

Once the sun went down it cooled quickly so I headed back.  As I walked through the woods I passed through amazing pockets of thick, warm air.  Could they be seeds for tomorrow's air? Oh, I hope so... mid-winter-mild is my all-time-favorite kind of day.

Grape Fern

For years a patch of these little ferns have been growing beside a trail in our woods, but until today I haven't been serious about finding out about them. While drawing this one I became increasingly curious to know what it is. That's what happens when I draw something - the plant (or whatever) becomes mine and it is necessary to call it by name. I have no choice.  I'm driven to find out.  

Back inside I did some research. A cursory flip through field guides produced nothing, but then I remembered an old book, bought months ago at our Friends of the Library used book sale, called How to know the Ferns, written by Frances Theodora Parsons, published 1961.  In the book I happened upon a drawing of the same fern... or close to the same. The one in the book was called a Ternate Grape Fern (Botrycnium Ternatum). Mine is not ternate (not in our range), but some other Grape Fern.  Don't know which one yet - even on the internet it is hard to distinguish between the various leaves.  

The individual plants never have more than one leaf stalk and one fruiting stalk, both of which last through the winter and fall away in spring when the new leaf emerges. The fruiting stalk grows in the fall. Only four of my plants are big enough to have a fruiting stalk, on which grow tiny, grape-shaped spore cases that start out green, then split open to release white spores.  As they age the cases turn papery brown, like the one above, while the spores remain white.  One of the cases (above) must have had wet spores inside because when it popped open the spores remained in a little ball that resembled an teeny-tiny scoop of vanilla ice cream. On other cases the white spores were messy and dotted the case's exterior as well as the interior.

I stood up to leave and spotted four more baby plants, which makes eleven, all growing within a circle about 8 ft. in diameter around a rotting pine log.

   

Grass

It is cold and dreary today.  The clouds are thick and low and look like snow clouds.  They spit rain occasionally, but no snow as temps are in low 40's.  Hiked with the dogs and Spooky - our little fluffy black cat that showed up as a kitten two years ago, on Halloween - to the highest point on the pipeline listening for birds.  Hm... There's a gun club a couple miles away from us, but today it sounds like it is right next door, and from the number of muffled booms, I'd say they are shooting skeet today. Boom Boom Boom Boom Bang Bang Bang ----- Boom Boom Boom Boom Bang Bang ----- Boom Boom Boom Boom Boom  ... It's amazing how sounds echo off low clouds. There was finally a break in gunshots and I heard some birds - Chickadee, Kinglets, Crows, red-bellied woodpecker....

I finally sat on the pipeline and looked around for something to draw.  The curly, tan grass leaves were hidden in the spikey aftermath of the great mowing of a few weeks ago. When I tugged on one curled leaf to draw, the whole plant came up, roots and all, so I drew the whole thing.

By the time I finished and headed home my hands were almost frozen.

Storms and Sting Ray Barb

Yesterday was stormy except for a few morning hours, which happened to be high tide, so we decided not to take the boats out to the inlet.  Instead we drove to Edisto State Park and walked on the beach there.  The clouds were low, dark and scudding, the beach scoured clean from the extreme high tide earlier in the day.   We walked the mile or so to Jeremy Inlet and found the falling tide had exposed what could have been all the shells from the other part of the beach. Piles of shells, fields of shells, strips of shells lined up by water currents.  No memorable fossil finds there, but fun just the same. I started noticing all the different textures strewn across the beach - so amazing.  I picked up a few pieces of shell for the fun of drawing them: Fossil turtle shell,  cockle fragment, cracked conch fragment, fossil sting ray barb, fossil tooth of bull shark, jingle shell, sand collar (egg case of a Shark Eye), and another conch fragment.

When I finally looked back up the beach, a squall was practically upon us.  We hurried back up the now desolate stretch of sand and dunes and ran into the camp ground to get out of the driving rain.  The windspeed dropped dramatically within the thick tangle of Live Oak and Palmetto Palms.  RV campers were set up here and there, some seeming to be settled for the holidays - there were wreaths on the doors and Christmas lights twinkled on miniature trees on the dashboards.  We scurried along the worn limestone path just behind the dunes until we finally reached the car.  The rest of the afternoon was stormy until a cool wind pushed away the clouds long enough for the full moon to peek through for an hour, then the storms returned.

White Day

I'm on Edisto Island on the third day of a fossil-hunting expedition with a friend. We've had heavy, pea-soup fog all day long. We traveled to the beach by kayak from our dock - an otherworldly experience today. Once there we were the only people on the narrow spit of a barrier island - not unusual since you can only get there by boat. There were birds, of course, and signs of wildlife, but not much was happening out there. It is a most peaceful place. The weather this fall has been hard on the inlet. There were a couple of hurricanes that skirted the SE coast, and in doing so ate up the sand and left a wide expanse of thick brown pluff mud spiked with nubs of grass. The point has been completely rearranged and the mounds of dunes and wildflowers completely washed over. It felt like we'd landed in a new place, an unknown land.

We slid with a crunch of broken shells onto the island just before high tide and hauled our kayaks up a steep, cutaway bank onto level beach, then pulled them up past the high tide line. They were tucked up next to a cliff of sand, where a storm tide had cut into the only small patch of dunes left on this end of the island. We would be gone before the water came up that far, but we pulled them up for mental comfort. We tucked the paddles and jackets's safely away and headed down the beach. Susan immediately found a wonderful, palm-sized vertebra (possibly dolphin) that had swashed out of the inlet onto the point. Other goodies followed - turtle shell fragments, bones, horse teeth, and ancient pottery, some with the pattern still visible. Colorful sea whip dotted the wide, shelly beach, shockingly bright in the dense fog. Brown Pelicans and Great Black-backed Gulls along with Semi-palmated Plovers, Ring-Billed Gulls, and several Common Terns gathered on the edge of the water, blurred through the binoculars by fog. Sanderlings skittered about, pausing to peck some juicy morsel from the sand.

Fog became even thicker as we headed back late in the white day. We caught a ride with the in-coming tide and sped up the creek toward the house. We sidetracked into a small creek off to the right and were rewarded by our first sighting of a Seaside Sparrow, chirruping while clinging to marsh grass. He acted as if he were glad to see us, flying away then back several times, and turning this way and that so we could get a good look. We hoped for but didn't see the dolphin from yesterday, rolling and feeding in the creek around our boats.

Brrrr....

Brrrr..... It was 41 degrees when I headed out with the dogs this afternoon.  The pipeline was still mostly sunny, but by the time I found these strange galls - or whatever they are -  and settled down to draw, the sun was slipping behind the hill.  There were clouds gliding low in the north, pink and gray in the pale blue sky.  Once the sun was gone the temperature dropped 20 degrees - ok, probably only 2, but it felt like 20.  I was suddenly chilled to the bone.  

Winston and I scurried back up the steep hill to home.  Radu had disappeared into the woods earlier, while I was drawing, and as usual, there he was sitting on the back stoop. He ran to greet us as we walked the last bit of path through the winter trees.

Puzzle pieces

After a hectic Thanksgiving weekend I looked forward to a walk, no matter what the weather.  So, around 3:00 I waved goodbye to Scott as he drove away in the mist, and went inside to put on my hiking boots.  As soon as Radu and Winston saw what I was doing they went crazy.  Radu began his happy dance, and Winston sat up on his hind legs, waving his paws in the air until I grabbed them in my hands for a double shake.  We didn't know him as a puppy, but right then he reminded me of his much  younger, newly adopted self.

The leaves in the woods were soggy from the weekend of rain, lying flat against each other in endless layers.  Out on the pipeline, solitary leaves were laid out on the mown grass like puzzle pieces on a card table, their shapes and colors just as different as can be. Along the edge of the pipeline, I was surprised to find tiny, 8-inch high oak trees with green leaves.  How could this be? Didn't they experience the same way-below-freezing weather as the other trees? I would love a botany professor's answer to this most perplexing question!   

Turkey Day

In honor of the holiday here are two wild turkey feathers given to me by my b-i-l from Georgia. Around my house I have tons of individual feathers he has given me over the years.  I love these feathers. When looking at one feather I think about, well, the feather. It's easy to admire the details, the beautiful iridescence, the miracle of flight.  

A friend who hunts once gave me a whole, intact fan of these feathers.  He thought I would love it, but every time I look at it I want to cry. When looking at a whole fan I immediately see the whole bird and I think about the hen who laid eggs in my woods last spring, and about the flock that visits us in the winter, the tom displaying his fan out on the pipeline... oh!! So sad.

Obviously, I am not a hunter.

Anyway, today I am thankful for TURKEYS, all turkeys past and present.  I hope you all have a very thankful day!

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Green Anole

Hiked with Radu again today - clean and silky Radu, amazingly sweet-smelling from his "EMERGENCY BATH" yesterday.  (Seriously, that's what they called it when I mentioned on the phone that he had rolled in something nasty. They took him even though they were overbooked.)  

Today's weather felt mild when you were in the sun, out of the wind, but step into the shade of a pine, and let a gust blow up and  brrrrrr... it felt like January.  Found my way to a fallen pine log stretched along the north-east side of our pipeline, facing south-west and the afternoon sun.  Thought it would make a nice seat, so I settled down. Leaves rustled overhead and when I looked up saw that I was directly under a big White Oak.  Its crown of reddish-brown leaves jiggled in the wind, with an occasional leaf flying off and twirling over the field.  I love White Oaks - their scaly white bark, their lovely round-tipped leaves, and especially the fact that they are a favored roosting tree for owls.  Their branches spread out as if they want to give you a hug.  

As I admired the tree's bark, I noticed a slight movement.  Right in front of me, barely moving, a Green Anole (in his brown phase to match the winter tree) was sunning himself on the west-facing trunk.  Because he seemed to be in slow-mode I decided to attempt to draw him, and it worked! It was almost as if he was posing for me.  He stayed in one position for a while, then slowly turned his head, took one step, or changed direction, never moving from within about 2 inches of where he had been.  I really appreciated his cooperation.  Most of the time wildlife moves too fast to study it... like the two huge whitetail deer I'd startled by the creek.  Snort!  Crash! their white tails flashed and Zoom! they were gone.

A tiny brown cricket clicked against brown leaves as he hopped between me and the White Oak.  I wondered how many other tiny wild lives were enjoying this protected sunny spot... then I remembered the winter I was hiking on a sunny hill and came to (almost stumbled into) a nest of snakes around a sunny hollow log, much like the one I was sitting on.   Ha!  Fine time to remember that.  You'll be glad to know that I didn't jump and run.  It was time to go anyway, to go find Radu, who had wandered off possibly to find something to roll in.  

I put my journal away and wandered back home.

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Sparkle II

Spent time yesterday working on everything around the rock.  Did I mention that the rock is not white, as it appears?  It is grayish-sparkles and brownish-red from the minute garnets (seen through a 10x lens... ) I think the rock is mica-garnet schist - the flakey mica gives the rock it's sparkle. Obviously I still have much work to do on this one.  Stay tuned....

Sparkle

Ok, clearly I bit off more than I could chew today.  I'd hiked to the top of the rocky ridge and was sitting, listening the the dogs run through leaves and mountain laurel way down by the creek, when I saw this group of three trees - two sourwoods and an oak - encircled by rocks full of muscovite mica chips - so bright and beautiful in the afternoon sun.  But, how do you draw a flat rock whose most spectacular characteristic is it's tiny sparkles?  Hmm... well, I can't say that I know yet, but I decided to start by including the base of the trees and the leaf litter in the drawing, thinking that the textures would (hopefully) push the rocks out and make them noticeable.  This is a huge undertaking when all you 're using is a micron pen, and I immediately regretted getting into such a project. But it was such a peaceful afternoon, quiet and sunny, I didn't want to move. And for the record, I often get this way at the beginning of drawing something -  I get irritated with myself, or disgusted with my inability to capture what I want to, and I get antsy to try something else, instead.  However, it is rare that I start something new.  

So, instead of wimping out on the above drawing of Sparkles, I got lost in it and drew for over two hours.  When my rear end was numb from the cooling temps, and Radu, having rolled in something long since dead, ran over to share a whiff of his new perfume, I decided it was time to get up and go home.  I could (and hopefully will) go back to the ridge and finish it up tomorrow.

Or not.

Arrowwood

Found myself in a patch of piney woods yesterday, on a path worn from use, although who uses it is a mystery because in eighteen years, I have only once seen a hunter's truck here.  I settled down in a soft bed of needles to draw these striking Arrowood leaves. Many of the leaves on the small tree had been nibbled by insects, and every leaf was edged in black. The dappled afternoon sunlight hit the leaves just so and made them glow.  Growing near the Arrowwood was a Carolina Jessamine whose delicate vine stem was heading for the sun of the open field. 

The wonderful warmth of the 60 degree day brought out the tangy scent of pines, which I must say blended nicely with essence of drying hay that drifted in from the newly mown pipeline.  

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Puff Ball

Our pipeline had a haircut today.  Early this morning I heard the mechanical rumbling and clanging of big mowing equipment and guessed right away that they had come to do the deed.  The leaves have thinned enough for me to see the orange tractors running up and down the steep hills while a white pickup sat near our bench on top of the hill to keep an eye on the proceedings. I kept busy writing and running errands, hoping that they'd be through before dark.  Around 4:00, when the dogs and I headed out to see the buzz cut, the tractors were finished with this section (Emma Cudd Road to Lawson's Fork) and heading back to the road. We hid out until they passed.  Sigh... it's always a little depressing to see a smooth lawn where a prairie had just been, even though I know this mowing is just what keeps the prairie flowers happy and healthy.  But the rose hips were gone - the ones I planned to pick... the berries of the big patch of winged sumac were gone - the berries I planned to draw. All chopped up and spit out.  While I was standing with my back to the sun, looking at the neat, close cropped grass, the wind gusted around me and turned into a little dust devil on the flat, open land, twirling brown leaves in a mini-tornado that lasted about five seconds - no more. That couldn't have occurred yesterday. 

I turned and hiked back into the woods where I found this weird puff ball thing.  It's not the same as the other one I talked about a couple weeks ago. This one was not in the open sun, but growing in the remains a fallen pine trunk deep in the woods. This one had a potato shape and big cracks that revealed layers of crust and a mound of spores the color of dark chocolate inside. Drawing it helped me forget the haircut... and by tomorrow I'll be used to the idea and think it looks great. I'll remember how beautiful it will look this winter if it snows, and how the spring flowers will get more sun and be more prolific next year... 

Oh boy, I feel better already!

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Rose Hips

Rose hips of the Pasture Rose grow in tangled patches here and there on the pipelines, but where I sat today, facing the sun with my back to a line of pines, there was only this stubby little vine growing. The buds for next year (look closely!) were the same color as the hips.  Forgot my binoculars and didn't recognize their song, so I couldn't identify the three birds who came to visit the trees nearby. 

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Buckeyes in a Red Bowl

We went to the mountains for the weekend with hopes of seeing our first snow of the season. Saturday started out as forecast: warm, with temps in the upper 50's, some sun and plenty of big puffy white clouds scooting quickly overhead.  Around midday someone upstairs opened the refrigerator door.  The wind didn't just pick up, it came roaring over the mountains and brought with it clouds and cold air.  On the one mile drive up Mauney Cove Road I watched the temperature drop nine degrees - from 56 to 47.  There was also a rainbow hanging over the cove which we could see all the way up the mountain.  It was still there when we got to the cabin, so I ran into the house, grabbed the camera, and drove back down to a nice spot that overlooks the valley.  By then is was 45 degrees and spitting rain, but the rainbow was still there.  It rained all afternoon and finally, late in the night, it snowed!  

 

Since we don't have a television or internet at the cabin, I spent the evening drawing some of the beautiful buckeyes we collected in September from a huge tree below our cabin.  If buckeyes really do bring luck, our little cabin must be an extra lucky place.

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Beetle

It is raining today, and a carpet of soggy brown leaves covers Ben's grass, the driveway (after being blown clean yesterday) and the deck.  But hey, it's no problem at all for me to find something to draw. Anyone who has been to my house or studio knows that my windowsills are filled with nature's  goodies.  All I have to do is decide if the subject will be animal, vegetable, or mineral.  No need getting cold and wet if you don't have to!  

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Seeds

Went paddling with Susan on Lake Johnson yesterday. Clouds hung heavy over us and the wind across the water was brisk, making me wish I'd put on more layers of clothes, or had brought the skirt for my kayak.  Still, it was very quiet and peaceful and worth the occasional shivers from holding the cold metal handle of the paddle.  Late crickets and/or cicadas were calling from all around, and back in one protected cove, a river of Whirligig Beetles entertained us for the longest time.  Try watching them through binoculars some time. Their shiny bodies glide effortlessly through the water and leave a tiny V of ripples.  When they are in neutral you can see their two front legs vibrating, churning the water on either side of the head.   As our kayaks floated into the river of beetles, they divided into two rivers, with occasional independent thinkers heading out to explore on their own.   "Look," Susan said, "that's us!"

Bird list from Lake Johnson and the swamp:  

Canada Geese (flock of 24 greeted us then flew away honking)

Chickadees (hanging and eating seed on pine cones)

Kinglets (too high to see their crowns)

Tufted Titmice

Kingfisher (one in lake, one in swamp)

Black vultures circling (4)

Eastern Phoebes 

Bluebirds (many swooping out over lake catching bugs)

Killdeer (several walking the shore pecking the ground)

Great Blue Heron (flying very high above lake)

Mallards (in swamp)

Red-bellied Woodpeckers

White Throated Sparrows (singing)

Mourning Doves (also heard whistling wings)

American Goldfinches

Pine Siskins (flock in a Sweetgum tree)

Turkey Vultures (on road as we left)

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