Nine Days 'til Christmas

"Wind Chill," 5 x 7 watercolor card

The wind did more than "come sweeping down the plains" this past week. 

We escaped the hurricane force winds causing havoc elsewhere in America, but we knew this was not your normal December weather. The steady southern wind pushed temperatures to record highs. 

 It won't be a typical Christmas this year, but this painting tries to capture the actual and personal isolation of a frigid Norther on the Great Plains, when we all need warmth. 

Red head

"Red head," 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb d'Arches cold press paper

Sometimes I just have to keep trying, and so it is with today's watercolor, another attempt at a cowgirl holding on to her hat on a windy day.

The previous one is ok, but turned out to be too large to fit in my 5 x 7 mat, and I wanted to work on the "red" theme again, for the February red-themed show in our Gallery, In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in paseo Arts District.

This one's better, than the one eight days ago, but I might try again, as I keep learning and seeing possible improvements. Besides, it's a treat to paint a pretty woman.

What about her other arm and hand? It's probably clinched on the handle of her .45 revolver in her holster!

Hang on to your hat day

"Windy Day," 5 x 7 watercolor, Canson cold press paper

 If there's an almost constant  on the Great Plains and in the West, it's wind.

That's the thought behind today's watercolor, a cute cow girl hanging on to her hat.

It's part of my series getting ready for In Your Eye Studio and Gallery's February art show in Paseo Artist District. Theme: "Red."

Yes, it'll be framed and for sale in the gallery Fridays and Saturdays next month.

Where the wind comes sweepin' down the plains

"Oklahoma Normal," 8 x 10 watercolor, 300 lb. d'Arches cold press paper

Today was one of those iconic days  in Oklahoma, immortalized in the state song.
Yesterday was almost summer, muggy, hot, barely a breathe of breeze.
But not today when a cool front swept across the state, with winds and gusts close to 50 miles per hour in central portions, hurricane strength in the panhandle, and about 30 mph in the southeast.
In the angst of pandemic where people are wondering about a "new normal," out here on the Great Plains, quickly changing weather and strong winds are "the normal," all the time.
Inspiration? Wind-whipped clouds, foliage and grasses. Sure. Oklahoma. Today's watercolor.

Magic in the skies

"Windy Oklahoma Skies," 8 x 10 no-brush watercolor, 300 lb. d''Arches cold press

Need some magic? Cooped up, depressed and stressed by this pandemic pandemonium? 

One of the salves for my souls, medicine for my moods, is right outside the door.

When you grow up on the Great Plains, and live most of your life in Oklahoma, the ever-changing colors  of the skies are full of magic. 

No wonder as kids we'd look up at the clouds and see what shapes we could find. The wind, the  clouds, the light, the shadows--a continual drama for the imagination and mood.

Thus today's no-brush watercolor, part of a series on magic in the pandemic.

Gone with the wind

Gone with the Wind, 5 x 7 watercolor, 140 lb. Fabriano Artistico cold press paper

March madness in Oklahoma--the winds and colors of Spring--changing every hour. Unicorn weather.

Oklahoma wind challenge, watercolor

"Hang on to your hat, it's Oklahoma" 5 by 6 watercolor, 140#lb card

Out here there's the wind. 
"Hang on to your hat, babe, it's Oklahoma"
Day 3 of the #Worldwatercolormonth challenge.
From a rough pencil sketch by my father 40 some years ago....an Oklahoma babe, holding on to your hat.
Thanks, Dad. Hope you like her, and notice the fine details like the red fingernails!

Moving spirits on an Easter back porch

"The wind blows where it wants to. You hear its sound, but you don't know where it comes from or where it is going. That's the way it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." --John 3:8 Back porch Sunday morning ritual: coffee, New York Times, shafts of sunlight, gathering clouds, buzz of insects, birdsong, rustling leaves--the sounds of silence. Time to think, to observe, to be alone, to enjoy fresh air and the outdoors. The workaday world and worries and wrongness  are far away. Then I'm disturbed by this large rushing sound, more than wind. A flock of more than 50 birds descends into the oak trees, the sound of their wings an unexpected joy. They spot the red berries on a bush, investigate, perch in the tree limbs. I freeze, barely moving, wondering. Something spooks them and they leave in a resounding and erratic rush of wings, only to return in a few seconds.  They're robin-sized, but I can see a dark streak around their eyes. I think they're Cedar Waxwings, but we've only had one or two occasionally at the house before. I edge indoors quietly to get my binoculars and bird book. For a couple of minutes they sit, like they're meditating, or somehow communicating, yet they're silent. Then they move, a few at a time, to the adjacent yard and another big tree. In five minutes, they're gone in another tumultuous rush of wings.  Why here? They view our red-berried bush in the back yard. Later in the day, the berries are gone, as they are. but I think they came for another reason. How will I remember this Easter morning? A huge rush of wing sounds from an unusual visitor, reminding me of creation's greatness, and life's wonder.