Tag: nature

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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 drink their sugar-water. The architecture of the space seems to encourage remembering that we are a part of the ecosystem we inhabit.” “I loved being surrounded by so much life with so much to tell. Judy was an excellent guide. She was patient with my many questions and generous with sharing from her reservoirs of knowledge. Her experience in environmental education, scientific study, and creative expression led way to inquisitive/expansive conversations. I learned a lot about the dynamics of the environment: identifying the sounds and tones of critters, how the patterns of flora and fauna and seasons relate to each other, what/how/why the micro-ecosystems within Sourwood and the Pedlar river had changed over time, etc. My ears perk to the territorial chitter of a wren in a way that they hadn’t before” (Patricia Wallbertson, visual artist resident, June 2024, more of her work here). Here’s what a writer in residence from June 2023 says about… Continue reading

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Giving Thanks for Sourwood Forest

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We were lucky to have our friends visiting, painter Marek Mierzejewski and his wife Angela, to roam the woods with us as the temperatures dropped: just about every tree bare; the forest floor a deep tapestry of newly fallen leaves still holding hues of deep burgundy, copper brown, and pale peach; and the light spread like glass along pristine surfaces of every branch and twig. Marek spent hours drawing in the woods, and shared these words with me about his time at 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 a creative writer with a broad appreciation of the arts, who will give an honest critique (if desired). She’s also 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 on Instagram @Marek6060. For info on Sourwood Forest and how to apply for a residency, look here. What a fabulous gift the world is in Sourwood Forest during these short days of glorious winter light. Slanting sunlight brings contrasts, colors, shadows and shapes only visible during this rare and precious time of the year. Continue reading

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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 Continue reading

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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 first gave me those bulbs nearly thirty years ago. She dug them up for me because she was moving far away from the perennials she’d planted over her years in Virginia. Giving them to me was a way to hold onto them, I think. They mattered on this September day because they were flowering when very little else was. And then came the rain, nearly 7 inches over a few days, which quenched the thirsty forest floor. It came from the edges of the hurricane that caused untold destruction and death in North Carolina. Choosing to notice what was near rather than worry about what I could not touch was difficult. So when the fungus flowers began to bloom in the lawn and the woods, they mattered most. The challenge of trying to use “what matters most” as a guide to my priorities is especially pronounced in Autumn, when the… Continue reading

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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 traveling to a new home outside the front door. All of this happened swiftly (I’ve moved hundreds of spiders from inside my house to out over the decades I’ve lived here), but this year such encounters have been particularly focusing for me. I think it is because there are fewer of them. Insects, that is. I used to be afraid of insects. They seemed to be everywhere, and I knew nothing about them. Now, I’m seeking them out. I am thrilled to see them, mostly. Especially when they are outside, like the caterpillar pictured above, who looks like she’s wearing a fancy dress costume. Apparently she belongs to a group that has earned the title “dangerous saddleback caterpillars,” and will turn into what is unpoetically called a slug moth (about as handsome as the name implies). But I didn’t know that when I was inspired to photograph her in her… Continue reading

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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. Continue reading

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 Continue reading

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 and colleagues to make a choice from five possibilities. Two of the titles got 75% of the votes, and What Holds Us Here won by a nose. I like it because the book’s content speaks to just about every way to interpret each of those words, making the title both a statement and a question. Continue reading

A Cool May at Sourwood Forest

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I was tempted to draft this post on the back porch, but Mr. Wren, whose partner is nesting in the potted coleus plant nearby, stood not four feet from my chair and scolded me. The nest is holding five eggs that are getting very close to hatching. May brought so many cool mornings, like in the old days. And today, June 1, the cool seems even more precious. That’s why I headed out first thing, with my tea cup in hand, to be in the woods at the time of birdsong and deep shadow. I’m working on a loop trail that could be used all summer, something Sourwood Forest doesn’t have. My husband and I like our woods to feel unpeopled, and trails make the presence of people palpable even when no people are there. But I think the benefits of this trail for artists who will visit Sourwood Forest justify it. On May 6, artist Siobhan Byrns (University of Lynchburg) and poet Grant Kittrell (Randolph College) generously gave their time on a Saturday to lead an art-in-the-woods event. Sioban had prepared materials for everyone, including specially dyed paper that, when activated by UV rays from sun, imprinted likenesses of whatever materials were captured between sunlight and paper. As we wandered into Sourwood Forest to choose our materials and create our images, we focused on the richly detailed diversity making up the decaying duff of the forest floor and delighted in the patterns of new leaves on every living plant.  Dappled sunshine made bright pools of light into which we could set our projects to soak in the rays, as the background paper turned from blue to white. We finished the projects on the back porch of the house, using shallow trays of water to “set” the image into the paper, then hung what seemed like subtle miracles in blue on a clothesline to dry near the blooming irises.  After lunch we gathered on the front yard deck under a circle of old oaks to hear Grant Kittrell read poetry. And we engaged in a discussion that wandered from the subject of black snakes to the powers of old trees, both real and imagined. Birds sang, a slight breeze whispered through the young leaves in the forest canopy, and the spectacular light of a May afternoon made everything (including us!) glow with the light of spring.  I was happy to… Continue reading