The rain tumbles down day after day and storms blow in off the sea. It is November in Seattle, darkening by 4 o'clock but not cold. The streets are wet with puddles that reflect the suddenly bare branches of trees.
I found myself this morning standing in a busy pet shop talking out loud to a cage full of mice. We were having quite a nice conversation. They were only the size of my thumb and it seemed impossible that they had all the right body parts - whiskers, nostrils, fingers - all so tiny and perfect. I almost came home with some of them...
Aren't these Norther Flickers gorgeous birds? When they fly you can see that the underside of their wings is bright orange. The female is also in this mural, foraging for food on the ground. I'll show her in a future post.
During the First World War the muddy battle fields of Europe changed, seemingly overnight, to fields of poppies once the fighting had ceased. Blood red "Papaver rhoeas" thrived in the disturbed soil and became a symbol of lives lost and now of remembrance.
I wear my little plastic poppy with sadness for wars past and present and with hope for a more peaceful future.
(These photos were taken by someone in the Google universe. Thanks.)
The mural continues. I got a bit bogged down in the many many leaves on the tree and the many many hours it took to paint them. But I have turned the corner and soon will get to the really fun part - painting the berry bushes and finally painting the birds. The weather has made it harder to work too. It is so dark these days. But I turn on all the lights, fire up the heater and turn on my audio book (currently Sarah Vowell). It becomes so cosy in the studio that I can work into the darkness of evening, with the cats curled up beside me. At lease until the kids need dinner. Poor things. They are used to eating at 9pm lately.
These segments are about four feet across and if you click on them you'll see them a little bigger.
Oregon grape and Salal wil grow around the these arbutus trees.
I almost drove off the road yesterday when I saw these mushrooms.
They are growing in the middle of the city under an evergreen tree. So unexpected. Why aren't there crowds visiting them?
I have only ever seen this kind of mushroom in children's book illustrations. Oh Richard Scarry how I miss you. (I think these are Amanita muscaria, which are either "deadly poisonous" or halucinegenic. Interesting cafe Mr Scarry.)
I'm still working on my big arbutus mural but took a break to paint this little mouse as a study for an upcoming painting. How strange to work on something measuring twelve feet across and something measuring 5 inches across on the same day.
Looking like the inside of a zombie's throat, this is a seed pod of Paeonia obovata, shiny from the Vancouver rain in my parent's garden where we visited yesterday. Earlier today I posted that it was stinking Iris but my Mum has set me right. Thanks Mum! Your garden is full of wonderful things.
My mum has planted Doll's Eyes in her woodland garden. I love them.
Though we don't have many red autumn leaves here on the west coast, there is plenty of scarlet and crimson in the garden.
I took a break from painting arbutus trees this morning to walk up to the store and buy cat food. Such is my social life at the moment. But the leaves at my feet were shining in the pale sunlight and the world was golden.
I was so fascinated with these catkins and the wheel chair ramp dots that I didn't look up to see what kind of tree I was under. Autumn is full of colorful treats like this. I'm so glad I got out of the house.
Not autumn leaves but arbutus bark photographed in the middle of summer. Trick or treat
After sticking more than 200 five inch squares of aluminum leaf around the black silhouettes, I polish the leaf with a soft cloth and then start painting the color. The carpet is covered in small bits of aluminum.
Arbutus bark gives me such wonderful colors to work with. The purplish grey outer bark, cinnamon middle bark and creamy pale pistachio inner skin. I also plan to use some Salal or Oregon grape with their bright blue berries. The dark weather has me craving color.
These beautiful and giant birch panels will become a mural of arbutus trees with aluminum leaf sky. It seems a shame to cover the lovely grain of real trees with artificial painted trees. My studio is dwarfed and looks a little funny.
The richly colored primer is jolly though.
But with black tree sillouettes it turns into a spooky Hallow'een image. Tomorrow I'll glue the aluminum leaf on and it will all take on a different feeling yet again.
I'll hang this study in my small show at Macrina Bakery in Sodo, Seattle tomorrow. There won't be an opening party but drop by any time in October to see some paintings and buy some delicious bread. The bakery is just south of the stadiums on First Avenue.
Part of a commission to paint the four seasons, this painting represents summer. The little chickadee is surrounded, and maybe a bit overwhelmed, by the abundance around her. It is a joyful image but complicated by the problem of choosing from all life's riches. There are also some moody storm clouds approaching adding that feeling of urgency that I can't escape when faced with summer's perfection.
The painting measures 9"x 12" and is oil on panel. If you click on it you can see it closer to its real size.
A couple of images from Sunday's meeting of garden bloggers at the University of Washington Arboretum. The orange seeds belong to an Iris foetidissima and the pretty pink berries are from a Mountain Ash.