I have no idea why it took me so long. Yesterday I explored a little nook that felt like a portal to the 17th century. The funny thing about this place is...I have driven by it nearly every day for most of my life. The Richard Wall House was built in 1683 by a charming Quaker couple from the town of Cheltenham, England. They were among the "First Purchasers" to obtain land from William Penn in what we now know as Cheltenham Township. My outdoor painting quest of Cheltenham Township has taken a dive into its rich 300 year history.
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Since it's still plein air painting season (meaning it's not too hot and not too cold to paint outside), I went to High School Park and found this lovely spot along the meadow walk built in memory of Joshua Schwartz. It only seems fitting that if I am a resident artist in Cheltenham that I paint Cheltenham. I foresee "Meadow Walk" as the first in a series. I'm putting on the hat of being a tourist in my own town! That "Tourist in my own Town" theme, by the way, is an excellent writing prompt that was given to me by the great Mt. Airy writing teacher, Minter Krotzer. I, in turn, assigned that topic to countless unsuspecting 10th grade students when I taught high school English. We read an essay entitled "A Tourist in my own Town" by an American author for inspiration. I'm a bit embarrassed that I can't remember the author. Can anyone help me out? In Alaska, this lone cottonwood tree sat in a field behind the Glacier Bay Country Inn where I stayed with my family earlier this month. I painted this on the only day we saw sunshine and one of the few glimpses that we had of those distant mountains of the Fairweather Range. I saw my first moose walk across this field later in the week. The inn is situated in Gustavus, Alaska: population 428. To get there we needed to travel by plane since, as opposed to Rome, no roads lead to Gustavus. Not far from my house, there is a river of rocks. I could see two patches of it pretty clearly from this vantage point on Hawk Mountain in Kempton, Pa. The story of this river goes back to the Pleistocene Epoch, the Ice Age that ended about 11,000 years ago when glaciers left the rocks here. There is a trail along the "river" that I have yet to hike. As I research Glacier Bay, Alaska and Yosemite Valley in California, I find this local connection to a similar geological process utterly fascinating. Hummingbirds love this stuff! It's like the blossom of this coral honeysuckle plant was made for them. I planted this in our yard 3 years ago. It grows more slowly than the aggressively invasive honeysuckle plants I enjoyed while I was growing up, but it's much more beautiful and better suited to our ecosystem. However, in its first year this plant's greatest threat was a local predator, my son. Nowadays, the plant is big enough that I no longer have to protect it from his sweet blossom appetite. New growth outpaces his "harvesting." I painted this on a recent rainy summer morning, similar to the daylily I posted a few weeks ago. Doesn't it look delicious? Today I painted outside with my daughter while my husband and son went for a bike ride at Valley Forge National Historical Park. Since I was a child, the view from the ridge where Route 23 cuts through the park has always impressed me. From this little area next to the parking lot of the Washington Memorial Chapel, we could see quite far into the layers of foliage that distinguished themselves chromatically from each other in the midday humidity of August. While the boys rode a loop around the site of the 1777-1778 encampment of Washington's ragtag band of Revolutionary soldiers, my husband stopped and took a picture of our location from the further hill visible behind the third tree from the left. I'm so glad our ancestors decided to preserve this beautiful expanse of land. Our national park system is truly integral to our national identity. Recent Pennypack Farm bounty included these beauties which together make a very tasty slaw! Kohlrabi came on my radar this summer. It's a part of the cabbage family and originates from northwestern Europe. A friend of my mother's who is of Hungarian heritage said that she grew up on it. It's crisp and crunchy. It's flavor is like a mix of a radish and a cucumber. It's so delicious raw. Fennel is a little more familiar. It originates from the Mediterranean and is a part of the carrot family. I've loved its anise flavor ever since I tasted roasted 'finocchio" in Florence. I've been greatly inspired by the beauty of the fresh produce we have been picking up from the farm every Monday. I hope to paint some more! I love how during these few weeks in summertime daylilies like these create the illusion that they have a longer lifespan with their whole stem of buds that flower successively day after day. But, the fact of the matter is that each flower lasts for only one day. While studying this flower last week, I realized that you can almost tell what time it is by looking at the flower. In the morning by about 8 am it is fully open. (The moment pictured is about 11 am.) Then begins the slow change of the edges of the flower petals until finally at about 6pm it starts to close then wilt. This flower also has personal significance. It was in front of a patch of daylilies in Rittenhouse Square that 18 years ago this week my husband proposed to me. They also must have had rain drops on them since a thunderstorm had just rolled through, delaying a most anxiously awaited moment with which he managed to surprise me. Today and Tomorrow originally referred to the open blossom and the blossom that opened the next day on the right. However, I'm sensing that I've also subconsciously composed a visual love poem. Love you, Josh! I feel pretty comfortable when I do drawing demonstrations for the classes I teach. However, I realize with this painting that I started a few weeks ago as a demonstration for my current outdoor painting class that it's hard to explain what you are doing while you do it! When I paint in watercolor, it's a deeper experience than drawing. The act of explaining does take me out of the zone where I create somewhat spontaneously. In fact, I needed to work on this painting for about 20 minutes without my students watching because I felt that there were some issues that needed to be resolved and I honestly wasn't sure yet how I would address them. I'd say it's mostly finished now, but I've saved several things that I have in mind that I want to show them.. One day my demonstrations will likely be more polished. In the meantime I appreciate the fact that my students accept my vulnerabilities as an authentic part of the process. Red globe radishes bring me such delight. Fresh from the Pennypack Farm & Education Center where I pick up my CSA (community supported agriculture), this bunch did not last long in my house even though I am the only one who eats them. This power food is so heathy to eat that there is a Chinese proverb that says, "Eating pungent radish and drinking hot tea, let the starved doctors bend on their knees." No offense to my doctor friends. |
Little Bee:
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