Artist’s Note 🌿

As I fell asleep three weeks ago,
Slipping into liminal dreamspace—
I saw children walking
Barefoot
Down an empty highway.
A storm rolled in kicking up dust, dust,
And more dust,
Blinding and choking and shoving
Back.
Some sat and waited, curling up on pavement
And it became their tomb.
Some said “We must continue forward,”
And inched and crept and stood,
Though it was the hardest thing they had done,
This standing,
And all at once the storm broke open,
Bright new day upon shining, gritty faces.

This week has been the storm
I think,
Yet, I smell the faint sharp air
And I dig in my heels:

The bright new day is coming,
And I will rise to meet it.

❦ Heather

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Artist’s Note 🌿

River rushing by, the same and yet different
Water careening and pushing against
Boundary lines;
I consider the last year,
The last two years,
The last five years,
And the wild girl who looks back now from the mirror-glass
Challenging and edging up against
Hidebound notions,
A spark alight, the same and yet different.

Blue sky and bird song
Mingle
Steam rising from the cup
Fragrant prayer
And praise for the waking
Of sleepy earth and bramble
Of dormant dreams
Of the person I should have been all along.

HE meets me in the space between river splashes,
In the crinkle of last years’ vegetation,
On the cusp of the dying and the now and the not yet,
And it is Good.

❦ Heather

Thank you for reading these feral Contemplations, an archive of pastorale poetry, visual art, psalms, and adventure. Contemplations is a subsidiary of the Heather in the Blue Mountains newsletter.

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Artist’s Note 🌿

It’s been a week.

Life is deep and wide and messy. I’ve no pithy words, no song to sing.

I paused once this week to assess the journey, to peer back where I had come from.

I praise Him from Whom all blessings flow that I did not turn into salt.

I praise Him who was with me in the fire.

Somehow, I’m still standing. And so are you.

And that is Good.

❦ Heather

Thank you for reading these feral Contemplations, an archive of pastorale poetry, visual art, modern psalms, and adventure. Contemplations is a subsidiary of the Heather in the Blue Mountains newsletter.

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**If you enjoyed this creative ramble, please consider checking out some of my other work. 🌿

Or, learn more about all this? 🌾

As birds go
Winging by —
A flash of light
Against dark cliffs,
Mist-spray glistening
As they soar through
From rocky nest to cool thermals.

The weather out here in Eastern Washington is finally coming around to better than tolerable. I am sad to say that after New Year's I tend to get irritated with the cold and snow, and by my birthday at the end of February, I feel weary and cranky if I have to scrape ice off my car (and we will not talk about that year it snowed on my birthday and kept us all in tundra conditions throughout the month of March). But I digress.

As the sun began showing her face earlier in the week I repacked my plein air art supplies and began dreaming again about what kind of adventures I want to take this year. My list quickly filled with popular hikes, some not so popular, and some rather out of the way, such as this particular adventure.

There isn't much to see in what people call the “scablands” unless you're a geologist, but this sunny Saturday the fam and I loaded up and hit the road. There are treasures out among these hills and I love driving.

And then, after driving for what felt like most of the morning, we arrived, and I hurried to find a place to stand near the fenced edge and sketch.

I've been to Palouse Falls a couple times before, and it never fails to amaze. This treacherous waterfall is simultaneously beautiful as it cuts through the ancient landscape. It's no wonder it is the state waterfall of Washington.

On this day, the canyon birds were all freewheeling on the thermals near the falls themselves and in front of the basalt cliffs. Oh, to be a bird. It must be better even than all the wonderful memories I have of riding motorcycle in the days before small children. There was nothing I loved better than the wind like Jesus' hand on my chest and the pull and rush of gravity as I swooped around corners. Birds get all that and they can dive, lift, or hover, completely at one with the air. I tried to get pictures, but they were too fast for me.

I did, however get pictures of this scruffy little soul. He was surprisingly unconcerned about all the people and dogs who also took advantage of the warmer weather.

After I completed a loose pen sketch, we hiked up to the overlook where there was a picnic table. I set up and quickly added some colors from my travel watercolor palette. I was glad I grabbed my graphite color set; I love how they look on the toned paper. A few visitors came and leaned over my shoulder as I worked, and asked questions or marveled at my supplies. Perhaps I encouraged a few to begin sketching themselves.

We headed home when I began to feel crispy. Next time, I will have to remember my hat!