When your tie matches your shirt.
Color Choices
Art Parade
This weekend we got to be in a parade. An art parade.
Our friend, the painter Giselle Gautreau, has as show that opens in April 2023 at the 2nd Street Gallery in Charlottesville. We have some of her art hanging prominently in our house. She formerly worked in large formats, then swore it off because the logistics are so challenging. But in this case she just couldn’t resist. She has several large paintings for the show that are too big to fit in her car.
What to do?
Well, you invite friends and family to parade the art down the middle of Main Street, of course. Which we did.
In the video, mostly shot by T, you see a tour of her studio in McGuffey Art Center, as well as her studiomate Michelle Geiger (who also has an upcoming show). Then we walk the big oil paintings – a few thousand dollars worth – down the street and six blocks away to the gallery.
Big fun.
Southern Northern Lights
We had a rare treat here last night. Just before midnight, the Aurora Borealis blew up big time.
People in Virginia got a chance to see something that rarely appears this far south. Folks up on the Blue Ridge and Shenandoah National Park had especially nice views. Some of their photos are amazing.
I missed the biggest flares, but was able to catch a little of it from the field next to the house before the clouds moved in. Wasn’t expecting much, so only had my phone on a tripod. Still, pretty impressive.
Sailing Weather Soon
Warm and sunny today, with a mild breeze. Has me thinking about sailing again. The photo above was taken by Tony Thatcher from his Melonseed as we sailed in the sound behind Assateague Island.
More of this please, soon.
Also, I miss that hat.
Piles of Possiblities
Tsundoku is a Japanese word for the art of surrounding yourself with piles of books you intend to read.
I approve of this word.
Lexington, Virginia,
many years ago.
(Actually, not even 10 years ago.)
Superb Owl Sunday 2023
Eastern Screech Owls from last summer.
Got their game face on.
Waterspout Rainbow : Winter Harbor 2022
By morning, the wind has swung around 180 degrees out of the north, and blowing hard. Within hours it goes from almost still to gusting over 40mph. Wind driven tides rush in through the northern inlet and pile up against the now closed southern end, submerging the dock again.
Breaking waves roll down the Bay, and we see more sand moving southward in the surf.
The temperature drops as quickly as the wind rose. I retreat to shelter along the inside of the island, behind what remains of the treeline windbreak. There are signs of the previous shorelines, old dunes, former marshes. The bleached bones of old cedar trees in what once was forest.
And artifacts of human history, too. A date carved in a picnic table still standing, somehow, for nearly 40 years.
We retreat to the house to stay warm. The sunshine of the morning is by afternoon replaced with wind driven rain. We read, do jigsaw puzzles, arrange shells and artifacts on the mantle, make soup, nap.
Just before sunset, the clouds begin to clear. A small waterspout is kicked up by the wind in the fast moving front, twisting and dancing over the water. It briefly catches the last bit of sun, and blooms into a brilliant golden rainbow before dissipating moments later.
Quite the epic finale to end the week.