Sunday, October 04, 2009

What Poets Write About


Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. ~Stanley Horowitz

I feel fortunate to live in a place with spectacular natural beauty, light that is sharp and clear, and seasons that change dramatically. Now, in the days of autumn, I have been working in my studio, getting ready for my upcoming mixed-media photo show October 16, called The World Is One Country. Yet the outdoors is so fantastic, I often leave to go hiking and painting.
A few days ago I hiked with a friend in the mountains. We parked by a stream and followed it down the mountain. The sun shone in a blue sky while the air felt brisk and chilly until we heated up from exercise and the extraordinary beauty all around us took our minds from any discomfort. The trail wound along beside the stream, sometimes forcing us to cross over by hopping on rocks or walking over fallen trees. There were obstacles in our path but as my friend said, “This is so much better than Disneyland!” The colors took my breath away more than the exertion of the hike. The evergreens had their usual deep hues, but the plants on the forest floor were all turning into blazing flames of yellows and reds. Perhaps most awesome are the aspen trees, sometimes called “quaking aspens” for the way their small, heart-shaped leaves quiver in the breeze. Now, the leaves are the color of gold, and when they quiver in the sunlight, they sparkle like gems—whole mountainsides of incandescent celebration.
Experience of nature in its pure state is what poets write about and artists try to capture. But the Creator of the universe is far ahead of our imaginings, and His work is testimony to His greatness which is well beyond human approach.
Once the last tree is cut and the last river poisoned, you will find you cannot eat your money -American Indian Proverb

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