Hold Onto the Moon

Inks, gesso, collage on w/c paper, Tues. Eve. Muse demo

What storm is brewing?  Hold onto the moon.

Have you seen the moon the past couple nights, here over our portion of northern California. It’s the “wolf moon” I’m told, the January full moon, so named by Native Americans because of the hungry wolf packs that howled outside the villages.

It does seem that there are an awful lot of hungry wild critters showing up around here lately.  The bobcat has been back, checking to see if there are any more juicy sweet roosters running around our front yard.  A rather large raccoon sat outside our front door yesterday evening gobbling down Phil the cat’s dinner and he’s been making big muddy dents in the roof of my chicken’s pen lately, hoping to find a new way in. And then there are tiny chickadees and finches peppering the branches of trees outside my studio, releasing showers of tiny seeds on my head as I walk back and forth. And the family of deer grazing the back yard all afternoon.

There must be a kind of creative storm brewing and it popped out last night as I was playing.  This piece actually made me feel a bit nauseous for a while!  I mean I’m a very poor mariner and not likely to sign up for a cruise anytime soon.  But I guess I’m longing for a bit of excitement. . .for a bit of wolf moon too, a bit of howling and running with the pack.  So if you hear a howl cutting through the cool night air, think of me or your very own wild nature, pleading to be let out.


One comment

  1. lucky you … MY own wild nature? i think it’s buried somewhere … i havn’t been wild in years … the cloest was to drink two glasses of wine on an empty stomach at underwood one dusk about 6 months ago (i’m a cheap date) and it was a wonder i got home along graton road … it had been restripped with moving lines!

    the moon rises over the eastern hills and early on is smack dab in the middle of dutton’s palm tree fronds…
    it looks so tropical from my studio window …
    my little black cat, etta james, sits in the dark on a shocking pink towel, staring at this golden orb that gives just enough light for her to see mysterious movement in the garden outside …
    i’m stand in the light of the hallway as she turns her green eyes to face me and blink …
    her sweet wildness …



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