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Category Archives: Nature

Rose Hips

21-Sep-07

Sorry for the delay in posting. I got tied up in regular life for a bit. Now to resume the travel sketches from Maine…

Everywhere we went in Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park there seemed to be these shrubs with little red thingys on them. I would say they look like itty-bitty tomatoes.

My dear wife enlightened me. They were Rose Hips.

“Why do they call them hips dear?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they look like hips.”
“Good answer dear. I have no idea what you mean by that.”
“Me neither.”

That was the limited discussion we had on the matter. Even so, I was somehow captivated by the little stinkers and decided to sketch them. These were at Thunder Hole, which is a place on the rocky coast where the waves crash into a large pocket in the rocks and create, well, a thunderous noise…I suppose. The tide was out and no thunder was being produced.

Even so, it seemed a place where shrubs of any type might not have an easy life.

With no thunder in the making, I began to observe the effort undertaken by the Park Service to produce the long concrete stairway, worked right into the rocky landscape, right down to the hole itself, complete with a nice viewing deck.

One would no doubt get drenched standing on that deck when thunder production is taking place.

The stairway had a very nice stainless steel railing all the way around it. Very expensive and not the first one, as sawn off rusty nubs of steel posts sat grouted in the rocks beside the existing railing. Evidence of previously failed design and installation.

I admired the effort because with the harsh environment of the salt water and air, even the stainless steel railing suffers from rust and broken welds. In other words, the whole thing was a real design challenge in the first place and remains a maintenance challenge even with the use of stainless steel. But the Park Service thought we citizens would enjoy the ability to get right down on top of such a natural experience and took up the challenge. A fine job they did and still do. You and I would not otherwise be able to safely view and experience first hand “the thunder”. It’s a good thing…and educational thing…and enlightening thing, to get that close to harsh, secret places in nature.

I suppose I should have sketched the stairway, considering all the effort that went into its creation.

But the Rose Hips…they set footing there at Thunder Hole without the aide of the Park Service. They were alive and stable in the same tough environment that the stainless steel was having trouble with. I wished to myself, as I studied them up close along the stair walk, that I was as tough as them. And yet still somehow able to be…rosy.

So I sketched them.

Also filed in Everyday Objects, National Parks, Stories, Travel Sketches | | Comments (12) »

Acadia National Park, Sand Beach

13-Sep-07

Acadia National Park, like all our National Parks, is a truly beautiful place. Perhaps the rocky coast is the most enjoyable for me. There is just so much character in the cliffs where the land meets the sea.

This particular little spot was called Sand Beach. It is exactly that. It sits in a cove between where the sea comes to meet the rocky cliffs on either side. It’s a crescent shaped semi-circle of coarse sand, cozy but roomy enough to wander.

And wander we did. We were the only beings there on a September Thursday evening just before dusk, except for some seagulls. In the sand was an endless tapestry of seagull foot prints in all directions as far as I walked. Seagulls I take it, like to walk on the beach.

My wife explored and I explored, each sort of wandering on our own and taking in the serenity of it all. It’s one of those places you don’t want to leave.

The waves make the kind of noise that sets your mind at rest when they crash to the shore. Loud but gentle. Predictable. Dependable. Watching a wave come to shore, from its first noticeable whitecap, building to its abrupt crash with the land, to its then thin coating of water slipping up the sand beach, sliding forward fast, then slowing, creeping further, a little, a little more…then retreating back to the sea, energy depleted, momentum lost, is a mesmerizing thing.

There is something eternal about it. Peaceful.

I wonder sometimes if the original inhabitants of this land ever came to places like this and just sat, all alone, thinking and contemplating…you know, a couple thousand years ago. On this side of the world there wasn’t much to think about back then perhaps. But I bet if they knew it was here, they came…and they sat and they felt the peace.

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Loosen Up!

17-Aug-07

I have written it on the blackboard one hundred times:
I will loosen up my paintings and sketches.
I will loosen up my paintings and sketches.
I will loosen up my paintings and sketches.

…actually, I haven’t really written it on the blackboard. But after just typing it three times, I’ve come to the vivid awareness of why teachers make kids write things one hundred times. It makes you remember!

Hah! who’d a thunk it.

Perhaps that is the reason I’m a bit of a mental dolt. I never had a teacher tell me to “Write blah, blah, BLAH, blah, blah, one hundred times after school today Mr. West.”

I can think of three things right off the bat I wish one of my teachers would have made me write one hundred times on the blackboard. Dang! Now I see how it could have changed my life!

I will not be a slave to credit cards.
I will not be a slave to credit cards.
I will not be a slave to credit cards…

I will save enough money to retire by the age of thirty.
I will save enough money to retire by the age of thirty.
I will save enough money to retire by the age of thirty…

I will always wear clothing under my trench coat.
I will always wear clothing under my trench coat.
I will always wear clothing under my trench coat…(Just kidding. I don’t even wear a trench coat.)

But I digress.

I must, I simply must loosen up with my sketching and painting. I’ve been doing a lot of studying of other artists, professional artists, contemporary and historical, and the really good ones are masters of “looseness”.

Impressionism if you will. To leave an impression with an image is to communicate by hinting at reality. It forces the viewer to fill in the blanks and make the scene their own. Thus, it is intimate. It involves the viewer without their knowing it. Sort of like when you meet someone you really like right off the bat. They left an impression on you. Little hints of who they are. You don’t know why, but you filled in the blanks and decided you like them.

Looseness in drawing, sketching and painting is the same way.

Too loose though, and you LOSE touch with the viewer. Sort of like when you meet that person in the above paragraph but they are totally stoned. They make no sense about anything and leave nothing but confusing impressions. You can’t fill in the blanks in a way that is pleasing. So you’re totally turned off and decide you don’t like them. They’re too out of control.

And thus, I seek to become just loose enough. That’s what I’m going to be concentrating upon. Developing a pen and ink looseness that is pleasing to the eye and interesting to the mind.

The above sketch is an attempt. It drives home to me that it isn’t an easy thing to accomplish with pen and watercolor wash. It takes practice. It requires letting go. I haven’t had enough practice yet. Shall we say, “Loosening up is hard to do.” ?

Bear with me.

Also filed in Landscapes, Quick Sketches, Sketching and Drawing | | Comments (2) »

Tuscany Beach

10-Aug-07

Sometimes we go to the beach for a quick vacation. We did that last week. The beach we visited was nice, on Hunting Island, SC.

Unfortunately, I was at a total loss for being able to sketch. Sometimes I just “lose it”. No desire to sketch…or do much of anything. The stuff I was seeing at the beach was uninteresting to me and thus I figured none of it would make for interesting sketches or stories to anybody reading Idle Minutes.

So, I sketched nothing while at the beach. I did take some photos. Perhaps I’ll review them and see if the camera saw anything interesting…sometimes it does while I don’t.

Anyway, in lieu of sketches from Hunting Island, here’s a beach scene from Italy. I know. You’re thinking “huh? from coastal South Carolina to Italy? How odd. What gives Mr. Don?

Well, click back through the last few posts and it will become self evident.

I’ll be back on track with vacation sketches at the end of the month and some stuff between now and then. We’re taking a short trip again to Maine. Surely, oh surely! my mind’s eye will become interested in sketching in Maine.

Also filed in ACEO Art Cards, Landscapes, Sketching and Drawing | | Comments (4) »

Valley Stream II

07-Aug-07

Just another ACEO watercolor from the imagination.

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Valley Stream

07-Aug-07

This is an ACEO watercolor of an imaginary scene. I fancied being out West, in Yellowstone, looking for a nice trout stream to wander up and down, all geared up for catching a nice sized Rainbow or Brown.

Funny thing about me and the sporting life. Most of it I fancy, never actually participating.

The main reason for this is the time and expense required to travel to rather remote places where such endeavors are rewarded with spectacular game and fishing, expert guides, and beautiful rustic lodges where one dines and rests between outings. There are three other reasons. They are what I call “hurdles” one must overcome in order to partake in the sporting life as a lifestyle:

One needs a spouse that either tags along happily to the woods and remote places for these excursions, or doesn’t even exist in the first place.
One needs a respectable amount of gear of acceptable brand and quality (read expensive) so as not to be immediately labeled a wannabe sportsman.
One needs to have sufficient experience so as to be comfortable in the field and thus respectable in the minds of fellow Sportsmen.

None of these things I have…so most of the sporting life for me is fanciful daydreaming and reading the magazines of the sporting life.

You see, for one to become a true Sportsman, comfortable in the woods, hunting, fishing, shooting, and holding one’s own in story telling skills, one has to be raised in the activities, philosophies, and comradery of the sporting life. Thus it becomes a part of life such that it can’t be cast away until it is rediscovered in retirement. It is in fact, a way of life for a whole life.

Naturally, we Americans insist one can jump in at any time with practically any endeavor one chooses and fit right in…like an old timer. But one quickly learns what the term “novice” really means when jumping into the sporting life without the grounding of being raised in it. You are quickly found out no matter how much Orvis gear you are toting…no matter what your Parker double gun set you back. And as a result, you are the entertainment for the guides and other attendees of the excursion you’ve chosen. Albeit most often in a gentlemanly manner…excluding behind your back entertainment of course.

So, for me, I’ve missed out. I have no such experiences or grounding from youth. Nor do I have the formidable funds necessary for a proper adult education in becoming a respectable Sportsman this late in life.

So, I’m left only to fancy myself in the Sportsman’s world on occasion. Usually I end up painting something appropriate to give me some sense of attachment to that seemingly romantic world. It’s much safer, less expensive, and it spares me the embarrassment of hooking my own head during a cast of my fly line, or shooting the surrounding air space of a rising grouse while a bird dog looks at me with a puzzled expression. And of course, let us not forget what a curiosity one becomes when he utters absolutely no words during a lively dinner table discussion on fly tying, shot loads, double gun history, gun dog training, game tracking, wild game encounters…or whiskey preferences.

In short, it is best to paint than to make a fool of myself trying to be a Sportsman.

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Trout Live Here

31-Jul-07

If you’ve ever done any Trout fishing, then you know two things:

They live, among other places, in cool mountain streams.
They hover in the flow of the water below “chutes”, like that depicted here, and feed.

Now granted, they also feed in other places in a stream. But if there are Trout in a cool mountain stream, and they are hungry, you will most certainly find a few of them facing upstream, hovering in the flow, just below a roiling little drop in the terrain of a stream like you see here.

Why is that Mr. Don, world famous Trout fisherman that you are?

Well, thank you for asking…ahem…it’s because bugs fall out of trees, or otherwise end up in the stream (some of them begin life in the stream), and flow toward these little places where the water is directed into tighter quarters by rocks, boulders, or other debris. Thus, these chutes of water are where lots of bugs get concentrated together as they pass downstream.

Trout eat bugs. That is all they eat. (Well, they will eat…uh…er…dare I say it…”niblets” corn from a can if they are farm raised Trout. But no self respecting, expensive equipment toting Trout fisherman will take advantage of that with anyone in sight. So for the sake of my answer here, bugs are all they eat.)

So Trout, being lazy, simply wait hovering in the water, facing upstream, in the tailraces of these chutes for their food to be delivered to them by Mother Nature. And of course this is one of those places where the sneaky angler chooses to drop a fake bug, attached to some overly expensive and technical paraphernalia, in the hopes of fooling said Trout into choosing his fake bug for a snack.

If you’ve fished for Trout you might also know a couple other things:

It’s not necessarily about catching trout…in fact, catching one is a bonus…or toting expensive gear into the wilderness.

As such, you become aware that Trout live in some pretty nice digs. Really beautiful homes these Trout have established. They have Martha Stewart quite whipped and whimpering regarding outdoor decorating and entertaining. Rather surprising for a Trout, eh?

And so, naturally, you visit time and again. Eventually, you even begin to ignore the Trout, leave the fishing gear in the truck, and simply explore, see, notice, and enjoy the places where they live.

You might do this reluctantly at first, questioning whether you are losing touch with your inner woodsman. You know, that inner part of you that says “You go into the woods to catch something or shoot something and eat it, or maybe just catch it and put it back. That’s why you bought all that stuff and that’s why you go into the woods. There’s no other reason to go. Get a grip man!”

But you come to find, that indeed, nothing is wrong with you. There’s no reason to question whether you’re still a “man’s man” just because you are feeling inclined to sit by the stream and take it in…with no “gear”. You simply have discovered another way to enjoy the great outdoors and it’s as fine and sportsman like as throwing a line in the water.

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