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Pinecones, Portals, and Poets
No small thing is small, or so it seems to this human found by a pinecone on a warm January day. Continue reading
Tag: nature
Sourwood Forest Artist Residency 2026
“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 drink their sugar-water. The architecture of the space seems to encourage remembering that we are a part of the ecosystem we inhabit.” Patricia Walbertson, artist in residence June 2024 Continue reading
Fall and Faith
What is it that seems to be held to the center of me and reaching out at the same time, like my heart is attached to the world beyond me– to the birdsong, the dripping wet leaves after the much needed rain, the goats in the barn, the sky that opens and closes as I move among the trees. Faith is an embrace.
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Insurgent Imagination Days June 2025
On June 7, the aim was to experience writing as a way to kindle creative capacity, cultivate well being, and uncover connections to the more-than-human world. On June 8, we were tuning in to nature as inspiration for original songs, with nature (especially birds, it turned out) as a collaborator. Each day’s small group of participants varied in age from 35 to 65 and in vocation from attorney to poet. Participants engaged with nature and with each other to nurture regenerative, relational vision in these challenging times of human disconnect, upheaval, and dissembling. Continue reading
Giving Thanks for Sourwood Forest
“I have just had the most creatively enjoyable mini-residency (3 nights) at Sourwood, and am stepping back into reality to write this brief testimonial. I am a 70-year old artist, working on canvas and paper, and driving here my head was filling with potential works, which were supplemented by the many vistas within an easy trek from the house. Judy is … an excellent host and her house is warm and comfortable. Give it a go: escape the Urban, immerse in the Sylvan. An experience awaits.” Follow Marek Mierzejewski on Instagram @Marek6060. Continue reading
Paintings and Drawings by Patricia Wallbertson
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 Continue reading
Flower Ghosts
The world shifts completely based on the space between two numbers on the thermometer. I lay in bed, then, hearing the restless wind. I imagined the ghosts of countless salvia flowers, thanked them for the way they’d made sunset multiply and hover in the garden, how they’d fed the hummingbirds and bees. I imagined their spirits filling the invisible air like tiny red flower kisses sailing up through the clouds, beyond the moon. Continue reading
What matters most?
“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. Continue reading
Precious Bugs
The trail through the woods this September morning is bereft of spider artistry. Where are the webs? So I drop my spiderweb stick and notice instead the dappled light, cool dampness in the air, vibrant green moss against the beech tree trunks. I hear a few calls from widely separated birds and the sound in the distance of a few crickets and perhaps a cicada. I try to rise to the challenge of not comparing what is to what used to be. Continue reading
Wood Thrush
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. Continue reading