We were like two amazons of old and I can stretch to my full height beside her. Unafraid we walk in pace effortlessly and I want to carry a bit of her strength and knowledge of her own power. Ah, I am SOOOOOO tired that I cannot be poetic, just simple tonight.
A little red haired girl with thick glasses drew a picture of herself and did not show me. She whispered that she looked kind of weird in it and her little cheeks flushed. I pointed to my example and whispered back that I look kind of weird in mine too. She nodded and promptly picked up her picture to join the others. Ha! I adore her already!

A silly time waster but some are crazy funny.

Animals have problems too

Crimson Star Adenium

Won't you walk me through the Tiergarten?
Won't you walk me through it all, darling?
Doesn't matter if it is raining
Won't you walk me through it all?

Even if the sun, it is blazing
Even if the snow, it is raging
All the elements, we must conquer
To get to the other side of town

I have suffered shipwreck against your dark brown eyes
I have run aground against your broken down smiles
Believe me when I tell you I have no place to go
But to go where the wild flowers grow and the stone gardens bloom.

Won't you walk me through the Tiergarten?
Won't you walk me through it all, darling?
Doesn't matter if it is raining,
We'll get to the other side of town.

-Tiergarten by Rufus Wainwright

The day sucked. Work drama and heartache leading to intense frustration. Then I got a call that was a clear beacon in an otherwise murky day. I know I am being obtuse but I won't give it all away. That would be silly. Some people should work a bit and they would see the same thing below the surface which is not so easily hidden. DREAM and DARE and TRY and HOPE it can be despite the obstacles.

Georgia's Tree

One of those stumbling over myself days and I wonder why I just cannot be more, well more something. Only little me though, see this is what it is and that is about it.

Round Goby

I have been having such strange and rather startlingly accurate dreams. In one I was having a conversation with a fish. All kinds of conclusions were reached, what is real?

Broken Butterfly

Hello my fellow bloggers, I will be away from technology for a few days and then very busy, so my blogging will be a bit interrupted. Have a good weekend all and dream BIG

Love has got to stop somewhere short of suicide.

-Sam Dodsworth from the movie "Dodsworth"

Sunset lily

(no alterations to this, the light was great, damn I miss my camera...)

We've also used and abused water and soil so that there's a lot less of each, and trampled thousands of species that probably aren't coming back. Our world, some respected voices warn, could one degenerate into something resembling a vacant lot, where crows and rats scuttle among the weeds, preying on each other.

Alan Weisman from Audubon magazine's July/August issue titled The World Without Us.

(note: yes notice my cheery posts lately...sorry....also I do take issue that crows are not a junk species by any account, this is also true for rats. We just tend to dislike species that do well in our wake (i.e. gulls, pigeons, house sparrows, starlings, etc etc)

Help birds, go to Audubon's new page on their website. Every bit of habitat counts.

"Perhaps the only entirely new and probably the most important aspect of today's language of forms is the fact that 'negative' elements (the remainder, intermediate, and subtractive quantities) are made active." _Josef Albers

Shedding Skin

updates,
The camera is working, so the camera store gentleman told me to let it dry out completely and hope for the best. Hopefully it will not just randomly decide to die at some inconvenient time as water logged cameras tend to do.
The lens was not so lucky and had to be sent to get cleaned out. It is of course not covered under warranty and will be a bit expensive.
My dog is indeed going blind and has trouble at night.
My other dog's facial growth is going away of its own accord so that is very good news.
I have been in a funk, but am better today. I expect blogging will become more sparse as my freedom disappears.

The world was believed to have been formed out of a bird's egg exploding. The sky was believed to be the upper cover of the egg, alternately it was seen as a tent, which was supported by a column at the north pole, below the north star.

The movement of the stars was explained to be caused by the sky-dome's rotation around the North Star and itself. A great whirl was caused at the north pole by the rotation of column of sky. Through this whirl souls could go to the underground land of dead, Tuonela.

Earth was probably believed to be flat. At the edges of Earth was Lintukoto, "the home of the birds", a warm region in which birds lived during the winter. The Milky way was called Linnunrata, "the path of the birds", because the birds were believed to move along it to Lintukoto and back. The Milky Way is still called "Linnunrata" in Finnish.

Birds had also other significance. Birds brought a human's soul to him at the moment of birth, and took it away at the moment of death. In some areas, it was necessary to have a wooden bird-figure nearby to prevent the soul from escaping during sleep. This Sielulintu, "the soul-bird", protected the soul from being lost in the paths of dreams.

From Wikipedia on Finnish Mythology

The only whooping crane you may ever see...

will be in a glass case like this one.

Ok, as you may have guessed that I am just completely angry about the development proposal, only to find out there is more. When I figure out who to contact I will post it. I am so depressed about this. How about we repeat the mistakes of the 1940's sisss booom bah... because we have learned NOTHING, (a groan is emitted here). Reason stands that yes, we have helped the cranes come back from the brink and they have reached a staggering 240ish number, which is a far cry from 22. Do realize that 240 is not that many, since that is all that exist in the entire world. Oh, by the way this will also impact the Aplomado Falcon (also endangered). I wish I could do more and consume less resources.
A really well thought out argument against it here

680 acres of development adjacent and with an easement on the ONLY WILD population of whooping crane's critical wintering habitat. Yes you can drive your damn boat, fish, pollute, well just piss yourself in suburban joy on the habitat confirmed to be used by whooping cranes and well USF&W will just charge them a paltry fee of $200,000 towards the cause of the birds they will extinct with such complete stupidity. I am ashamed of my species and their need to swallow up every inch of waterfront for luxury homes and the fat ass pockets of the developers. Oh did I mention that there are about 250 or so of these amazingly wonderful birds left? A mowed buffer? I mean really people, can we tell what administration is in power? USF&W you have sold your soul.
Read for yourself here

Expecting the worst, you look and instead,
here's the joyful face you've been wanting to see.

Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding,
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.

-Rumi from Mathnawi, III, 3769-3766 translated by Coleman Barks

Black Bellied Whistling Duck

Bird meme

1. What is the coolest bird you have seen from your home?
A male Pileated Woodpecker would rank "coolest" he comes to the suet feeder. I have also enjoyed some Green Herons that live near me, a resident Cooper's Hawk and a Great Blue Heron once was eating the bullfrogs in back during a really wet summer.

2. If you compose a list of bird species what is your favorite list and why?
My favorite list is my life list of about 600 bird species, it is the only list I keep.

3. What sparked your interest in birds?
When I was little my father once had a tree swallow that would come really close to him. He claimed to have helped a tree swallow once and that is why they were not afraid of him. I thought it was magic and was very proud to have such a special dad. He had several bird guide books in his workshop and I would spend hours looking at the pictures and marveling at all of the different birds. It was the birth of my obsession with birds.

4. If you could only bird one place in for the rest of your life, where would it be and why?
I would probably bird in Sierra Vista, Arizona. They get many different kinds of birds, including wanderers from Mexico and tons of hummingbirds. They also get many raptors in the winter and have generally good weather for people.

5. Do you have a jinx bird and if so why is it jinxed?
I have two, but the most elusive has been the Ferruginous Hawk. I have driven for days in the Hawk's territory on more then one trip and have only had a "I think that might have been" look. I would love a good solid look and some time to enjoy the bird. I think they are in a rapid decline or I am just not lucky with them. I also have trouble with the Black Bellied Whistling Duck. I have only had a flyover despite some spots where they are bird you cannot miss. I have missed them, though.

6. Who is your favorite birder and why?
My favorite birder, that is a tough one. I like the Stokes, and enjoy reading their blog. I also really have enjoyed meeting George West, he was very nice and really informative when I met him. See his hummingbird work here. As for the birders of the past- George Misch Sutton and Louis Agassiz Fuertes.

7. Do you tell non-birders that you are a birder?
Yes, they may think I am crazy at first but usually they get curious and start asking you any question they have ever had about birds. It is a great way to show enthusiasm for the natural world and hopefully hook others with your passionate zeal. Birding is a great hobby and it is just fun to get out and look at nature.

A bit of cheer on an otherwise dark day.

This may be one of the last photos my camera will take. I was on a boat and managed to give it a good soaking in river water. The lens is full of water and the camera is drying. It is a digital so I may be out of luck on its recovery. I am not optimistic and as you can see from my previous post it has not been a good couple of days. I am home early to attend a funeral tomorrow. Life is short, live, live, live.

Death has come into the house
throw open the windows at its arrival
weep and pull your hair
cover your face in ash
and mourn the loss of a great generation
we stand as silent witness
milling around the viewed body
devoid of soul
all knowledge buried
the world has lost it's wealth
in close eyed slumber
goodbye goodbye
the demons that ate at your body have won you
your soul has quietly slipped past
and takes the stairs two at a time

-Goodbye Great Uncle Bill you are missed

Blind Dog

In other news, I found out that my dog is going blind and my other dog has a mystery lump on his face. Hopefully it is just a an abscess or some other non-malignant growth. I will know soon, after the test runs. I will be out of internet range for the next few days. I have a presentation to do on my paintings. Be well.

I am a little late in finding out that artist/painter, Elizabeth Murray has died of lung cancer this past Monday. Read the NY times article here
A good resource on her is at ART 21, a series about art by PBS which is generally excellent and a good teaching tool. See that information here

longing...night longing, sad little dream longing

Night Study

a bit foggy of an image of a study I did on mylar with graphite

The key for the artist is that we are not so much copying nature as studying nature's creativity, its energy. So you look at how nature draws. It draws ruthlessly, fearlessly. You must draw like that-like the wind carving rock.

-Tim Hawkesworth

June Bugs in August

What is the architecture of falling?
Is it built on the curve of your lip?
A landscape my eyes follow
over nose to waiting brow.

Face that holds skull retreating
into fissures and dark worlds
containing all that you will ever be
the unreachable temple of soul.

I drag my gaze up
over plains of skin
towards the air of our pause.

The swirling, spinning, dance of breath
and feel the plummeting depths
of a pounding heart love.

Hammering ramparts to empty hope
these buildings do not meet
go upwards ever reaching
until the foundations cannot hold.

-By the Corbyhawk
*these are copyrighted just in case you are wondering

I had the distinct honor of showing my portfolio to Emily Eveleth, a painter I respect and admire. I was lucky enough to be in her class this past week and I am still grappling with the changes that I feel will be coming in my work.
Read about her here,
See her amazingly beautiful work here

I have had nothing to say lately. I am in the silence of the deep woods and am waiting for the universe to make some kind of answer. I can't paint the same way I did a week ago, everything is changing and I want someone else to make some noise. I am empty.

value

I know a little girl who had a curl right on the middle of her forehead.
When she was good she was very, very, good
and when she was bad she was horrid.

(That about sums up my painting today)

So tired...my arms...I painted all day long and then into the night
but I am a changed painter, a better one today then yesterday as I am immersed in the language.
I am so enraptured by the growth and the feeling that everything is coming together...
Still read about climate change here
and I will be busy dreaming soon.

She who sees your sunrise eyes
wakes you from your sea of dreams
no fair, no fair
we met too late
She has taken up my fate
and I will wander the world to find
your love that will never be mine

-By the Corby

New England White Oak Tree

Conservation is getting nowhere because it is incompatible with our Abrahamic concept of land. We abuse land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect. There is no other way for land to survive the impact of mechanized man, nor for us to reap from it the esthetic harvest it is capable, under science, of contributing to culture.

-Aldo Leopold -Sand County Almanac
(More books came my way from a conservationist/naturalist person who died with no family. It is an amazing gift of great field guides, illustrated works, and books like the above, which I have not yet read but really should have already. I am really pleased by the unexpected gift from someone like-minded I never knew.)

Bunny Face

5 boys, 2 girls, 2 boys have a home, mom is staying with me along with one girl who has a medical issue. Everyone else needs a home...

WE GOT IT!!
(I know I am yelling here, but we got the show!!!!)
Not until 2009, but a show none the less!
HA! I am the 3% (97% of MFA candidates are not successful)
Know why? Because I want it BAD and I will work my tail feathers off to get it.
:-) happy day.

Wish me luck my vast blog audience, as I have a very important meeting tomorrow morning. This meeting is for a show with two other artists. I hope I get it, but I am not going to get overly optimistic about it. It makes it easier to hear bad news if you set yourself up to be prepared for it. I am debating on what paintings I should bring and of course hating all of the obvious flaws I am seeing in my work. I tend to do that and feel like all of the old stuff is unfinished and garish with its big mistakes hanging out like thong underwear on a teenager. Hopefully they will be less obvious to the person I am presenting to. We shall see....

Fog comes up on the River quickly. It hangs like a dense cotton cover, hushing all sounds except for the close movement of the water. The shapes of islands, shorelines, and other boats come out at you, so much closer then you expect them to be. When you are floating alone in it, you cannot determine which direction your bow points in. You have to rely on instinct and blind faith in order to reach your destination. You can choose to sit in it and wait until it lifts, but that may not happen for hours or even days. Or you can take a risk and go forward slowly, making out the shapes that loom out of the fallen clouds and steer towards home.

Question Mark Butterfly

Hi my darlings, I have re-entered the world after painting all day. It is mostly complete and I am happy with it. I may actually go do something rather fun, like take a nature walk this evening. Learn about animals and plants near your zip code here

As he saw me so I was slowly becoming; he saw me into being.

-Mabel Dodge Luhan

data, data, data, data...
I have filled up my overused laptop with photo files and data. This is a common problem I am sure and since I do not trust the rather impermanent shelf-life of DVDs, I have purchased an external hard drive. This means I am merrily copying files, and soon will be burning DVD back-ups just because data should have a few homes. Fun-times...

Yellow Lady's Slipper or Whip-poor-will's Shoe

Regarding its favorite haunts, Mr. Baldwin says: "Its preference is for maples, beeches, and particularly butternuts, and for sloping or hilly ground, and I always look with glad suspicion at a knoll covered with ferns, cohoshes, and trilliums, expecting to see a clump of this plant among them. Its sentinel-like habit of choosing 'sightly places' leads it to venture well up on mountain sides." The long, wavy, brownish petals give the flower and alert, startled look when surprised in its lonely hiding places."

-How to Know the Wild Flowers by Mrs. William Starr Dana

The show was good, though the attendance was a bit low. Some I really would have liked to have seen were busy elsewhere, while some unexpected friends came to visit. The highlight of evening was a friend's gift of many old field guides and nature books. They had gotten the books from someone and were unsure what to do with them. So lucky little me.

Don't kiss the work...

Tundra Swan

I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more;
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!

-Wild Swans by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Peregrine

After the frivolity of setting up the art show today, I am much less nervous. Everyone had an excited banter and the work looks good together. So I think everything will be just fine and I am still feeling good underneath all the external stress. I just have to trust that things are all going to be ok.

As I drove to setup the show in the city I generally regard with a veiled contempt, I saw the old K building that I used to watch as I fell asleep in my grandmother's apartment. It used to seem menacing with red lights that glowed like eyes. It's tower looked like a tin man hat giving its sinister a slightly whimsical spin. A devil that was blundering and loveable, as if it were not truly bad. I would stare at it, playing with the lights and features in my mind as I drifted off into dreams. I can still see the window frame around it and the glow of the city lights below. I can still hear my grandmother crinkling the pages of the book she was reading or the low hum of voices on the television. As I lay there I would imaging it breaking off of its foundations and walking over to my window. I wondered at what it would say, how it would bend and tip its tin man hat to me. Even all of my coldest hours within that city's sphere cannot erase such good memories, so today and tomorrow I will be called home at last. And I will call it home.

I am so very nervous about an art show I am in this week. The opening is coming up and I am tense about it. In fact the stress of this has gone right to my stomach, which it always does. So I am feeling rather ill. I hate openings, and I think I may always feel that way. It is funny that I crave having shows and feel accomplished when I get in them. I hate the process of the opening itself, where your work is on display and people mill around you. I wonder what it is that I fear? Perhaps it is the audience having a negative reaction to the work, a scoff and a rude comment. Then again is that so terrible, that I could not confront it? I am silly about this, what am I going to do when I am the only artist showing? (this will be happening soon) I will be sick for 2 weeks before then and loose 20lbs at this rate! What do you do, dear bloggers when you have to confront an uncomfortable social event? Any tips? My stomach will be eternally grateful for your advice.

Jimson Weed

In the Datura or Deadly Nightshade family-so pretty poison

And if I could see around the bend
would it change the time I spend
Wanting you?
If I could bring you a perfect rose
from all the pretty buds that grow
How could I choose?

Cause you got me dancing down
these muddy roads
with soft sand between my toes,
Feeling fine
The sunlight playing on my back,
shirt in hand,
Singing out in crazy rhyme

-Kate Wolf -Muddy Roads

Tiger Lily

Dare I say that I am actually painting a somewhat happy painting? Who am I and what have I done with the Corbyhawk? I have worked on the background of it this afternoon and intend on tackling more of it later. I feel rather good, honestly. I can't help it, I feel change coming and I am ready to run right into it despite any costs. I am almost cavalier in my need to throw out old worries and fill myself with new hopes. What a day of painting, I always feel so good when I paint. The work I did last week has really informed me and I am hitting on a new thing in my painting. Life is generally good I say, ha! Ha, gray day, mixed sky and grabbing old life. I am sliding past all these worries and just enjoying the ride today. There are words I want to scream out past the clouds to the hiding sun and laugh as the rain falls around me. I am not afraid, I double dare you.

Younger and Older

That thing you do
with your eyes
the edges crinkle and hold
a smile your mouth attempts
to deny.

I feel the warmth of you
and bask sunning
my own soul.

-By the Corbyhawk herself

Broad-billed Hummingbird

Young Gray Hawks

Last night
I dreamed I became myself
I dreamed I became a bird
I dreamed I became a dream

From Lam Thi My Da -Dedicated to a Dream (translated by Martha Collins and Linh To)

THE HAWTHORN TREE

by: Willa Cather (1873-1947)

CROSS the shimmering meadows--

Ah, when he came to me!

In the spring-time,

In the night-time,

In the starlight,

Beneath the hawthorn tree.

Up from the misty marsh-land--

Ah, when he climbed to me!

To my white bower,

To my sweet rest,

To my warm breast,

Beneath the hawthorn tree.

Ask of me what the birds sang,

High in the hawthorn tree;

What the breeze tells,

What the rose smells,

What the stars shine--

Not what he said to me!

Burned

violet

it flowered again
despite the recent death
of the old violet blossoms
they hang curled up edges
of black debris
laying waste on cushioned velvet
out of no where a burst of color
a brief interlude of hope
in each chunky blossom
burnished a purple blue
I care for it as if it were the last
such ordinary flower
as if leaf edged in gilded carat gold
because of who picked its perfect color

I recognized for the first time in my life there is a mystery in the transmission of feeling across wide space; the fact that individual essence may be poured out of one and carried on a sheet a paper faithfully to its goal, may run through the living fingers, a stream of vital energy, possibly ponderable, anyway effectual, speaking to one of what it will, and that one receives messages with some receptive organ besides the elementary ones of eye and ear. Every written word is embued with a portion of the writer's total being; the properties of the blood, bones and nerves have flowed into the electrical stream that charges the page.

-Mabel Dodge Luhan - Edge of Taos Desert

There is always a little let-down after a show. It was a good mix and the work looked nice. It is still up, hanging, waiting for the right viewer to find it. That is hope right? That a certain person will find it and your communication will vibrate in them, sending them some impression of why the work was created. Maybe it will stay with them like a melody that repeats over and over, causing them to look differently at the world, maybe for a moment. Then are you less alone as the creator, your vision is picked up and lives on. Ah, hope when I am feeling rather low tonight.

Chihuahuan Raven

Me and My Canoe

Landfall

Come with me, there. The River winds itself around the islands placed randomly along its path. They glow pink granite among the steely blue water. The water always moves, running with hidden currents that ripple the surface. Grip your paddle as we go in my red canoe. Be careful it tips easily, so try to stay in the middle. It is calm out now, and everything glows from the rain droplets. The thunderstorm was short but intense and now the air is crisper, almost like fall. It reminds me of you. Four minks swim up to us. Their dark molten brown fur shows on their little heads as they come closer. A mom and her three babies. They don't see us until they are right up to us. Mom startles and quickly turns around. She raises her tail in alarm and it sticks out of the water like a wet whip. The crow family is in the trees above us. The youngsters are constantly cawing for food. The parents silently keep about the hunt as the young follow with demanding cries. One of them has white-tipped feathers. You can see their pink mouths as they yell.
The sun is setting as we go, following the line of the islands. The cottages mostly stand empty but a few people watch us as we pass. My hair is blowing out around me and my arms are strong as I pull the paddle in a rhythm. Don't worry I will steer us. We can weave in and out of rocky shores watching the spotted sandpiper dance on the edges of the rocks. The trees and brush reach into the water. They are hiding huge water snakes and a small yellow warbler who looks rather ragged.
We turn around the longest island to meet the sunset head on. A loon stretches its wings in the sunlight and calls its lonely cry. It echoes through us as we go. I turn and spot a heron, who is waiting in perfect stillness for his next meal. Suddenly as we reach home the sun dips below the tall white pines across the river, casting its orange and pink light to the waiting clouds above.

D.H. Tree

" A bird is not finished until it can fly" -William Morris Hunt

I will be away for a few days. I have a painting in a show that opens tomorrow night and I will be traveling to get there.

Cassin's Kingbirds (immature)

I really should be working. I am taking a brief damn it's hot and the humidity is killing me break. I generally do not like making frames but it is a necessary evil. I have to get to my painting and have a great idea for my new blank canvas that is patiently waiting for me in my boiling studio. I found out I am in another show (yes I know I should not be complaining it is a GOOD problem) which has sent me into a panic mode that I am responding to with an odd melancholy lethargy. Perhaps I am about to change my work dramatically in response to what I was seeing out west. This is a good thing?? One never knows. Only I must go now and really pull myself up out of the funk I am in and get something done. I make my own self crazy, off I go after I put a picture on here...

With him, life flooded back into the room, into every corner of it, into the chairs and tables, into the bowl of wild roses, and into me, too.

Mabel Dodge Luhan -Edge of Taos Desert
(longing)

From the sunrise

I snapped this on my way to some great birding in Madera Canyon. (great minds think alike :-)

1. All right, here are the rules.

2. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.

3. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.

4. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight
things and post these rules.

5. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged
and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re
tagged, and to read your blog.

1. Fact: I hate being tall, it implies so much in and of itself and I would rather be less visible. It is also difficult to find clothes to fit since the "ideal" female is a size 1 and has a much smaller body frame. (I am 6ft and a size 11) Men also tend to prefer smaller women.
2. Fact: I can have a sharp tongue and a wicked humor (I generally do not do this in public, but I can be really sarcastic)
3. Habit: I have the habit of spotting and taking notice of all of the living creatures around me wherever I am. (I also can note their present state of being, i.e. observe limps, etc.) (this even applies on a highway)
4. Fact: I hate housekeeping
5. Habit: I tend to repeat a point in conversation 3 times in three different ways
6. Fact: I wanted to be a biologist when I was young, but decided to be an artist so I would have something to write about when I was old.
7. Habit: I frown when I am thinking about something (I am trying to break this bad habit in order to prevent getting wrinkles which really want to show up)
8. Habit: I sometimes daydream and they can become very elaborate stories built upon over time. (A wonderful meeting diversion)

I am not going to send this out to other bloggers, sorry I am breaking the chain meme (bad, bad girl) I am pathetic enough to not really know 8 other bloggers (pitiful I know). So if you read it and you feel inclined, go with it.

Near Abiquiu

They danced effortlessly, borne by the shared rhythm. And my companions and I looked poor and outside life as we squatted on the ground, able only to watch them. The doom of our race, I thought, is to watch things. We travel around or we stay at home, but wherever we are, we are only looking at life, not living it. Looking at it and telling about it, not being it. We have even learned to make a virtue of this substitution of modes...

-Mabel Dodge Luhan -Edge of Taos Desert

Mission of St. Francis

Skull at D.H. Lawrence's ranch

I am sitting on a bed at Mabel Dodge's house. I should be conversing with the spirits of Willa Cather, D.H. Lawrence, Alfred Stieglitz, Carl Jung, and of course Georgia O'Keeffe. In this small adobe room I can see the giant wood rafters, and slide my feet over polished wood floors covered in native rugs. The walls have a funny way of holding the light and casting shadows. It is as if the light doesn't bounce off of the walls but gets sucked into them. These floors have seen so many ghosts and inspired so many artists and intellectuals. I love it here, despite myself (the one that refuses to like what so many others have liked). It is not the overdone glitz for the tourists that I admire, but the subtle creep of the light over flat surfaces, the giant brightness of the flowers against the big blue sky, and other visual feasts I can try to photograph but must save in my mind. You can see everything around you as you drive. The plains of sagebrush green on blue green marching like an abstract painting towards a blue gray sky. Photos cannot hold it, they do not see it in my eyes. So I hope those spirits rub some of their magic into me as I sleep here. What dreams will I have? I know I am waxing romantic, but it is hard to not do so in this place. So tonight I send this out to all of you, fellow creatives. So that the conversations once begun in such places does not die out in isolation. Maybe we can all carry it, sit for a late drink face to face by the adobe fireplace under the star filled sky. I can hear the wind whipping as it does through the cottonwoods, rustling them for tomorrow.
-The Corby

I am in the desert, a stone's throw from Mexico. It was in the low 100 degree range today. It is so dry that you don't sweat, it just evaporates right off of your skin. The sun blazes with a sharp intensity that burns out the colors around you. Everything seems bleached. The plants are agave, prickly pear, mesquite trees, cholla catus, and octaillo. The hummingbirds are plentiful and all different kinds appear to glow in the bright sun. Broad-billed, Anna's, Lucifer, Black-Chinned, Magnificent, Blue-throated, and Broad-tailed. They buzz as they fly past you. Their wings making distinct sounds for each species. It is an area suffering from a long drought. The rivers are threatening to dry up and leave the booming population thirsty. So they import more people and pave the desert floor. Hope you are all well, I may not be back for a bit. (no access to the internet for a few days)
-Corby