Author: Judy Strang

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Sourwood Forest Seeking Residents for 2025

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Sourwood Forest in Western Amherst County, Virginia inspires through direct experience in nature, fostering curiosity, artistic expression, and wellbeing. We are currently seeking writers for residencies of varying lengths from mid May through late September 2025 (flexible dates and rates, with priority given to long stays). Visual artists who work with natural materials and need little indoor space are also welcome. Interested? For more info and to begin planning your residency, fill out this Google form: Sourwood Forest Application 2025

You’ll share a spacious home on sixty acres of untrailed forest, where the nearest human neighbor is half a mile away. Residents each have a private bedroom, share a bathroom with up to 2 other residents, and have free use of the house’s main kitchen, communal spaces, yard and gardens. For more details, see Frequently Asked Questions about Sourwood Forest.

Here’s how Patricia Wallbertson, a visual artist resident in June of 2024, describes the place:
“The house itself was lovingly built. Smooth trunks of trees made up the support beams of the house, rocks lined a wall with an inbuilt stove, and everything glowed with natural light. The windows looked out onto the garden, and at any given time I could see a vignette of flittering butterflies on a bush, nesting wrens in a flower pot, or wily squirrels trying a bird feeder. At the turn of the day to the evening, more hummingbirds than I personally have ever seen in one place whizzed around the back porch to … Read the rest

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Paintings and Drawings by Patricia Wallbertson

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Works shared with Sourwood Forest by Patricia Wallbertson, artist in residence June 2024, inspired by her time here.

creekbed paint sketch, June 2024, 1.5’x 1’, sediment paint, charcoal, white 

daylapse, June 2024, 16”x 11”, graphite, Pokeweed berry paint, watercolors, and paper

poppy opening, June 2024, 16”x 11”, graphite, Pokeweed berry paint and paper

copperhead paint sketch, June 2024, 4”x 6”, sediment paint and paper

butterfly flapping, up close and from a slight distance, June 2024, 8”x 5”, sediment paint, graphite, and paper

poppy bloom and bleed, June 2024, 16”x 11”, watercolor, ink, and paper

… Read the rest
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What matters most?

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“What matters most?” is a question I ask myself frequently, as I choose and rearrange priorities for how to spend my time, daily, hour by hour. Even minute by minute. It has taken sixty years for me to recognize this question’s power and necessity in my life. And I’m only just beginning to see how slippery its answers can be.

The green snake was what mattered most one hot September afternoon. What you don’t see here are all the videos I took of him (or her) moving along the top of a rusty wire mesh fence between the backyard and the pasture, swaying and flexing a neon-green muscle of a body into an unusual number of curves while moving along the top of the thin wire. I only see this kind of snake in our yard once or twice a year. Every time seems like the first and makes me feel lucky. I could not read the creature’s eyes to figure out what mattered most to him (or her), but I was hoping that by keeping my distance, the answer wasn’t “avoiding me.”

After a super-dry late summer, one deluge of a couple inches brought a brief respite in late September, inspiring the autumn crocuses to bloom like crazy. They are actually in the narcissus tribe and not a crocus at all, but regardless of their name, they mattered most when I saw a small bumble bee buzzing and pushing into a bloom. I remembered Betsy B., the woman who … Read the rest

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Precious Bugs

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It’s the time of year when spider webs waft through the air from impossible heights in the oddest of places and often capture falling leaves along the way. Of course there is a spider somewhere responsible for each of these, but what I see is a magic leaf, seeming to hang and dance but not fall, held in the air by an invisible tether. I saw two of these instances today, in very different places, so I took a picture of the second–a sourwood leaf suspended above our road. Because this September the webs I’ve run into have been few and far between.

I had to remove a very scary spider from my room before I went to bed last night (not pictured). This one was of the wolf variety. Not a web-maker. More of a marauding hunter. It was tricky to get at it with the empty yogurt container (my bug removal device of choice) both because it was near the corner of the wall and because I had to move a floor lamp to reach him, which I did as carefully as I could, praying he wouldn’t move. Just a foot or so from him was a crevice he could easily hide in, between painted cinderblock wall and concrete floor (no baseboards in this room). And I had to crouch and reach without throwing a shadow across him. Slap of plastic onto wall then scrape of cardboard square sliding between plastic and wall, and he was with me … Read the rest

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Poppies and Patricia: Sourwood Forest, June 2024

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Poppies. The Fancy Poppies, as I call them, not the smaller, orange kind that grow on roadsides (though we do have a few of those around, too). These are descendants of one packet of seeds a friend shared with me about ten years ago. They come up in various places every year. When the weather is right (cool nights, not much rain, as it was this year), they are a grand feature in the late May and early June yard.

Patricia Wallbertson, our June resident, was lucky enough to witness their fantastic transmutations from bowed bud to erect open bloom to petals falling and seedhead emerging. Each day she’d spend time visiting the poppies in the yard, watching their process of becoming and unbecoming. She would stare at them, draw them, later adding textural paints she created using some of the soil from the creek or yard.

sketches by Patricia Walbertson

More samples of Patricia’s work inspired by her time at Sourwood Forest can be found at Patricia.

Patricia was impressed by the diversity of forms, textures, and ecological processes happening all over– from poppies in the yard to decomposing logs in the woods to the shadows, light, and moods of Melody Creek. She was interested in soils, the decomposition process that they embody, their differences and the way in which they define a place. She surprised me by how much she delved into the opportunity to connect with the environment specific to this place. She seemed to let it … Read the rest

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Wood Thrush

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I stop my rapid steps to listen:

Chattering pip-pips like laughter,

Soaring songs a hallelujah chorus from angels not created in our image.

The woodthrush fills the woods with more than sound,

a tangible presence invisible inside the dark forest made darker by the backlight of sunset.

Their melodies carry magic.

They help me breathe,

help me lift my arms and spread myself,

tilt my chin and look up,

forget what keeps me in my head.

The barking of faraway dogs disappears

as does the memory of the machine cutting hay this afternoon.

Gradually the pip-pips cease,

songs grow long pauses between,

the forest quiets into twilight.

And I am a body simply standing in the road.… Read the rest

A Place to Connect, Create, Inspire

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Sourwood Forest in Western Amherst County, Virginia inspires through direct experience in nature, fostering curiosity, artistic expression, and wellbeing. The spacious home is on sixty acres of untrailed forest, where the nearest human neighbor is a mile away. For more information and to apply for a residency, see these links:Resident info for 2025

… Read the rest

On the Cusp of the First Frost

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October 31st, and I’m afraid many a child will be disappointed by today’s weather for trick-or-treating. It likely won’t even hit 50 degrees, rain is a real possibility, and the winds are supposed to pick up in the late afternoon. The brilliant autumn colors are falling down, down, down as the continued drought conditions push the trees into letting go of their leaves. While Sourwood Forest is mostly about woods and wildlife, I also share part of this place with four goats: Cocoa, Bertie, Iris, and Captain Fantastic (in order of seniority). And the book I’ve been working on for the past seven years–about the woods and goats–is finally in print. So this post is pointing at that, to remind readers that this place is also an inspiring place to create.

Several amazing artists contributed images to make the book visually beautiful. A few of them have websites: James Cicatko , Cathy Leather , Ted Moore, Rhea Nowak. I encourage you to check them out. If you’re interested in knowing more about the book, Contact me. I only printed a limited number, and they are not available online.

Tonight the first real frost is likely to happen here at Sourwood Forest, which marks the start of my search for artists and writers who would like to be next summer’s residents, spending some time here between May and October 2024. Contact me if you’d like more information about possibilities.

I chose the title after surveying over forty friends … Read the rest

Pedlar River September Morning

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I am choosing a Pedlar River photo to put at the end of my book, which is about to go to print once I decide on this last image! It was a cool morning, so I braved the risk of ticks to walk down to the river and take photos, carrying my wading boots since I knew it would be low and that the best views were likely to be had from inside the river. Below are the four I’m trying to choose between.

… Read the rest

Here one day, gone the next

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Since the small milkweed patch finally appeared in our front garden several years ago, monarch caterpillars have been a part of September for me, and I’ve learned not to get too invested in the whole thing. That said, I am still thrilled when I first spy them (usually when they are smaller than my pinky fingernail), and I look in on them every day, amazed at how fast they can grow. But it’s hard not to be disappointed when they sometimes just disappear. I try to convince myself it must be because they have found their way to a secret location and are beginning to “hang J” in preparation for what comes next. This week I decided to photograph the current residents one morning when I was lucky enough to see four of the gaudily striped critters, quite healthy and sizable, and (in my opinion) way to close to the top of the milkweed they were feasting upon.

When they reach the top and all that’s left is stem, do they climb all the way back down (some four or five feet) and proceed to crawl across the dangerous ground to climb up another stalk? I’ve never seen them on the ground or headed in a downward direction. They always seem to be moving up and very focused on eating.

Today was rainy, and I wasn’t able to find any of them in my brief foray into their milkweed neighborhood. I’m going to believe that does not mean they are … Read the rest