The smell of ice is still in the air. The nearby stream rustles and rumbles, as water passes from place to place, not unlike my thoughts. It feels like spring, but it is only a teaser. What else is spring, but a teaser? She shows her face beside a winters day,  flashing her warm smile on our expectant faces, then she disappears behind a bank of new fallen snow. Then one day, some green appears. A group of small leaves appear, who have had their heads resting under the whorls of dead grasses that lay recumbent. The weight of winter lay upon their collective shoulders and they fell to embrace the earth in a bruised dance. But crocus and snowdrops, trout lilies, and my favourite, scilla, all vy for their showplace in the forest floor. One at a time and in scattered groups they open their tiny flower faces to the spring show. A gentle wave of birdsong accompanies their appearance, calling out “its spring” in no uncertain terms. A chorus will soon join the chicadees, the distinct scree of the red winged blackbird alongside the distant honk of incoming geese while careening towards the wet fields. More will follow in […]
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                                                                                                         Wherever I am I paint, draw and see….I am setting a new studio space in a place far from home. Love drives me there, is my motivation, that, and a thirst for new experiences, new visions, new warmth, new trust, new work….
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snowshoes

March 9, 2013
by Karen Phillips Curran
  snowshoes I like snowshoes, because given enough snow, you can go anywhere in the woods. My woods are quiet this time of year, no birds, no bugs, no beasts. All are at rest, or have left the vicinity, only to return shortly. Yes, spring is on its way. I cannot smell it yet out here, but I can feel its approach. The sun says its on its way. The light is stronger, richer, and a bit warmer. I follow the deer tracks in circles. Their pathways are well marked in the cedars behind my cabin. Dappled light in every direction draws my attention. Ice blue shadows surround me. Warm yellow light kisses the bark near me. I cannot look up without a tear coming to my eye. I am out here to feel it feel winter without spring. So I can paint it later in the studio. I fill up my senses with it, breathe it while I am in it so I can bring it back later with a paint brush in my hand, and a will to re-create that feeling.
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