wordless wednesday

 

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such color

 

A couple of weeks ago I thought this might be the last zinnia of 2022. So I carried it, held over my head through a paddock full of interested goats, up to the house. Popped it into a little vase along with a handful of Galinsoga parviflora. Photographed it. Sketched it. Enjoyed a late-summer posy for many days before it gradually lowered it's head and faded. 

When I harvested the tomatoes last week, there was one more zinnia!

With color every bit as brilliant, but petals showing the challenges of blooming when nights are sometimes dipping below freezing.

There's beauty in the struggle.

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back to the beech

Beech in the morning.

Beech in the afternoon, with an oak rising through.

Beech with the crown of the oak above.

So many leaves have come down in recent days. I'm looking at a changed palette and a different view every day. We've reached the point where, if the sun isn't shining, it looks and feels very much like November out there. But when the sun is shining, I'm convinced there's still plenty of time to transplant raspberries, build more raised beds, and plant tulip and iris bulbs.

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patience

 

One thing I am learning about watercolor, is that sometimes I must Let It Dry before doing more with it. This does not come naturally to me. But I am trying.

Here's a watercolor sketch based on one of Harry Burton's black and white images documenting Howard Carter's excavation of Tutankhamun's tomb, exactly one hundred years ago:

I did this a couple of nights ago and wanted to continue with it but if I had carried on right away, it would have turned into a muddy, scrubby mess. So, like a grown-up, like a grown-up who has made a great many muddy, scrubby messes, I put it aside to Let It Dry.

The following night, I moved on to Phase Two:

Maybe the trick is to have two sketches going on at the same time so there is always something immediate to work on? I don't know. But Magpie's recent comment about painting made me think about Daily Markmaking. For a photographer, I sure am having fun with markmaking.

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harvest

Working my way through a laundry basket full of green tomatoes from the terrace garden. Haven't found my recipe for the wonderful green tomato chutney I made in Colorado many years ago, which is unfortunate since a kettle of chutney would have used up half that basket and left my entire house smelling delicious. Instead there have been baking sheets of halved tomatoes, lightly coated in olive oil and slow-roasted in the oven. Also a salad of sliced green tomatoes and sliced strawberries, drizzled with bleu cheese dressing. And just a few whole tomatoes frozen, because here's something I learned today: green tomatoes do not slip their skins the way ripe ones do after a minute in boiling water.

Suggestions welcome! There are probably two dozen tomatoes still waiting, and yesterday Della pointed out a few more in the garden bed between the barns...

...but I'm hoping they will be safe there until I see the bottom of that laundry basket.

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