I've been spotting
electric blue dragonflies/damselflies
in the garden lately,
and as soon as I saw them
I knew I'd have to find a way
to work them into a painting.

Paired with cheerful nasturtiums,
a bold lupine or two,
and some delicate rose geranium,
I think these garden visitors
are happy with their illustrated habitat.


You can find a print of this painting
now in my shop!

This painting was inspired
by the family of juncos
that have taken up residence
in the fuchsia basket
on our front porch.

When I first sketched the drawing
for this piece,
the two birds had scraps of grass and fluff
in their beaks,
caught in the middle
of building their new home,
and the nest was empty.
I struggled with the painting--
it just wasn't coming together--
so I set it aside for a few days,
unsure if it was worth finishing.
By the time I returned to it
I had discovered
the dearest,
most heartbreakingly tender
little clutch of eggs
in the real-life nest
on our porch,
and I knew what I needed to do
to complete the piece.


You can now find a print
of this painting in my shop!

We were given a bird box
as a housewarming gift last year,
and now this Spring
a couple of chickadees
have taken up residence in it!
I peeked in
and saw a nest
a little while ago,
so now I am
(trying to)
wait patiently
to see if baby birds
join the garden party.


This painting is now available
as a print in my shop!

"'There's some big clumps o' columbine in th' garden.
They'll look like a bed o' blue an' white butterflies flutterin' when they're out.'"
-The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett


A print of this painting
is now available in my shop!

I was recently inspired to paint
one of the dearest little nooks in my garden.
Though I haven't found any real nests there,
my paintbrush can stretch the truth a little...


A print of this painting
can now be found in my shop!

Some fairy flowers
in the magical evening light.
How could I resist?

----

Bird Song - The Wailin' Jennys

Laying bark
and pulling weeds
on my hands and knees,
gritty with dirt and sweat,
I looked up,
and this was my view.
Above my own toil
soared boats of magnolia petals
and stars of sweet-smelling Osmanthus.
I laughed with delight
at the surprise and beauty of it,
and realized
that I felt beautiful too--
hair in my face
and earth on my cheeks,
but strong,
and working hard,
and full of love,
for the living things around me.

The view
out the front of the house,
and the view
out the back.

--

Come Outside - The Melodic

Our blooming cherry trees!

We never really get any cherries--
the trees are small,
and the birds take any fruit before we do
(we've never bothered to fight them)--
but I don't mind at all
when we are treated
to blossoms like these,
illumined
by the early evening sun.

It's hard for me to imagine,
but I once very much disliked
the whole Springtime season,
so much so
that I actually came to dread it each year.
I thought it was windy, and wet, and changeable,
tiresome and long;
at best it was a necessary evil
on the slide from Winter
toward glorious Summer.

The self who felt this way
could not feel farther
from who I am now.

Now, each Spring
I celebrate the return of the light,
the green growing things
where all was brown and sleeping,
the color and texture and pattern
that turns my garden
into a fairyland,
the birdcalls,
and scents,
and evening sunshine--
I want to hold all of the beauty to my face,
and drink it in.

The last few photos
of my dear hellebores.

They are truly fading now--
their nodding heads
hang even lower these days,
and their jewel-bright colors
have faded to silver, platinum.

Their dimming
makes way
for the next phase
of Springtime in the garden.

March has certainly swept in like a lion
here in the Pacific Northwest!

Dark skies, wind storms, torrential rain--
we have had it all so far.
Throughout the wild weather, however
Spring's beauty has continued to appear.
Clouds of cherry blossoms
have turned the view out our upstairs windows
into a soft-focus haze of pink.
Flowering quince has started to pop,
vibrant and saturated,
and we saw some downy pussywillows
while out on a recent hike.
Forsythia gleams along the roadside
as brightly as the (lately absent) sun.

I painted this recent piece
to honor the sprigs and blooms and hopeful bits of new growth
in the face of the darkness.


A print of my Blossom Bouquet
is now available in my shop!

A glimpse at just a few
of the hellebores
in my garden.

In my mind,
hellebores are the perfect plant.
Their stunningly beautiful blooms
come in rich and subtle shades,
full of variation.
Their evergreen foliage
is dramatic and elegant.
They grow wonderfully well
in the shady spots that
(let's face it)
make up most of my garden.
But the reason
that I love them
most of all
is because they blossom and thrive
at a time when most of the garden
is still bare,
dark,
and winter-sleeping.
They gleam like jewels
in the rain and wet of early Spring,
and are as prized and cherished by me
as a chest full of treasure.

Small scenes
from my garden.

Every day
there are more buds forming,
leaves unfurling,
blooms popping,
and new growth raising its head from the earth.

Some plants from last year
that I had thought didn't make it
have appeared again,
despite my doubts,
to send out fresh shoots
and elicit a shout of surprise from me
when I discovered
their unlooked-for return.

A print of these mischievous little guys
is now available in my shop!

It's a good thing
that they are awfully cute,
since they sure do love
to cause trouble in the garden...

Moments in the backyard these days.

I absolutely love this time of year--
the days of sun
are still intermittent,
but the later sunset hour
has become tangible,
and the swelling toward Springtime
of every living thing in the garden
registers as an almost audible hum
of energy and growth and movement.


----
Please stop by again on Wednesday,
when I'll be sharing some of the new work
that I have been creating lately!
----

Moments of sunshine
after an extremely wet and dark January
are so very welcome!

I have taken to keeping my camera
on the table next to the back door,
so that I may grab it
and dart out
to photograph the light
when I see it shining out there.

At this time of year,
every second of it is precious.

Happy 2016!

I recently added these photos,
my favorites of the past year,
to my website.
It's nice to see them
grouped together like this--
a tidy sampling
of seasons and moments and light.

One of my goals for 2015
was to shoot more film.
While I didn't shoot a huge amount,
I definitely made it a priority again,
and realized how much I had missed it
and how much I still love it.
It will definitely be something
that I continue with
in the New Year.

I am optimistic for 2016.
I am hoping it will be,
for me,
A Year Unlike Any Other.

Marika Hackman - '81 (Joanna Newsom cover)