It’s chilly, rainy Wednesday, but just yesterday afternoon I was sitting by the Schuylkill River Canal at Lock 60 in Phoenixville, enjoying a blue sky with puffy clouds, temperature in the mid 60s, low humidity, no mosquitoes, and the sounds of nature all about me. With the fresh, green leaves on the trees, the sparkling blue of the river, and the sun casting a warm glow over everything, I felt like I’d stepped into a landscape painting.
Yet I almost missed it. My day was full of to-dos: a dental appointment, making broccoli soup, grocery shopping, volunteering at my precinct polling place, working in the garden before the next installment of rain arrived. It was also the day of the monthly meeting of the newly formed Nature Journaling Club. Did I really have time for that in a busy day? On the other hand, did I want to miss it?
I decided to postpone gardening, packed up my kit of drawing materials, and headed out. The borough was a tangle of cars and pedestrians, but the moment I turned onto the canal road, all that fell away. Here and there were people fishing, folks strolling along the bank, kids on bicycles, and dozens of turtles perched on fallen trees, sunning themselves.
I parked in the lot near the lock and quickly found our group. Our leader, artist Jolie Chylack, engaged us in a reflection on and appreciation of those who had lived in this area long before and invited us to find something to sketch that connected us to a sense of place.
Typically, I don’t do well at such things. I come with my mind so full of what is still on my list of things to accomplish that I can’t instantly leave that all behind and settle into the elusive “present moment.”
Except that yesterday I did. It was probably a combination of things. The slowing down from simply being outside in the sun with nothing to do except observe what was around me, a few minutes of walking and looking at things, noticing the large, beautiful leaves of a hickory* tree and feeling how fuzzy and soft the undersides were, wondering about the outcroppings of layered shale, and finally sitting down to draw.
The shift happened as I started to move my pencil on the paper. That action steadied and guided me, leading me to the next squiggle of marks on the page, and to the next. My pencil seemed to flow at the same pace as what was around me. I felt productive yet sensed no need to hurry. I also had the enjoyment of a new experience with nature: those hickory leaves. It was unexpected to find such softness of texture from a tree known for its super hard timber (the hardest wood in North America) and nuts that are hard to crack even with a hammer.
The time was over too quickly — I felt I could have stayed and sketched until the sun went down. Yet it was perfect to gather back into the group and hear each other’s experiences. We each had seen and focused on something different, and yet we felt connected by the shared experience of noticing and creating art in nature. It was a moment that has painted itself in my memory, one that I hope will hang there for a long time to come.
*The tree whose leaves I noticed was probably a mockernut, a.k.a. white hickory (Carya tomentosa). “Tomentosa” is an indication of the velvety hairs on the leaves.
Note: The club meets the third Tuesday of the month from May through October. There are two separate sessions, one for adults and one for parents and children. If you’d like to learn more or to sign up, contact Jolie Chylack at jchylack@joliechylackstudio.com.
Pam Baxter is an avid organic vegetable gardener who lives in Kimberton. Direct e-mail to pamelacbaxter@gmail.com, or send mail to P.O. Box 80, Kimberton, PA 19442. Pam’s new book, Listening to Nature’s Voice, is now available on Amazon. For more information or to sign up for her newsletter, visit her website: pamelabaxterbooks.com.
Source: Berkshire mont
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