Art Camp for Two

Documenting our Discovery of Ladyslipper Orchids

Last week, my young friend, Grace and I invented our own “art camp.” She stayed with me for four nights and we had 3 full days of creative fun. I sure hope we get to do this a couple more times this summer. Hanging out with young people fills my cup, especially when they are as enthusiastic about life and learning and creativity as Grace is. It was super cool that we got to do so many projects and have some adventures just the two of us. Actually, it was three of us — Charlie came along too.

I promised Grace I would teach her how to make a blog post, so I am going to leave the DIY tutorials until she comes back for our next art camp. In the meantime, here are some photos of some of the things we did and made:

Butterfly Heart Swarm by Grace

Painted Tiles

Girl swinging Grace and Charlie

Documenting our Discovery of Ladyslipper Orchids

painted tiles

My New Favorite Season: Spring Near Yellowstone

Elk cow and her calf

Hearing robins singing has always been my first sign of Spring.

River with Birch Leaf

We’ve tried to arrange for our shamanic study group to meet in Montana, our home-ground, for almost 20 years. Well, they came this spring! Yay!  And I kinda think everybody pretty much fell in love with Montana’s beauty and wildness. Yellowstone Park, the Yellowstone River and Paradise Valley to be specific.

It’s been a long time since I have visited Paradise Valley and Yellowstone Park in springtime. Starting when my sons were little, we camped in Yellowstone but usually after school was out for the summer, or in the fall. I’d always heard about the incredible spring surge of baby wild mammals and birds there, but I’d never experienced that awesomeness until this retreat. Fall was always my favorite Montana season. I’ve changed my mind, though.

My new favorite season? Spring-near-Yellowstone. Yes. That is a season. Springtime-near-Yellowstone. Not just plain old Spring.

In early May, Mother Earth is waking up in the Yellowstone ecosystem. Waking up in a big way:

  • Her trees sure woke up — fast! In just a couple of days, before our eyes, the aspens and cottonwoods dressed their bare branches in mists of green, then fully clothed themselves in designer-leaf-garments.

Spring Aspen by Matt Lavin

As spring days grow warmer, Earth’s sacred waters awaken. Snow melts. Soft rains come. Rivers swell and fill their banks. The water covers sand bars, willow thickets and ancient boulders. Listen to the sound of a small stream feeding a big river and notice the beauty filling your heart:

Afternoon River Reflections

During the night the land sleeps. Mists cover the bottom of Emigrant Peak in the Absaroka range. With sunrise, the clouds lift to reveal a snowy shawl on the mountain’s shoulders and, as the day warms, her shawl unravels into rivulets that feed the swollen river. Earth’s sacred waters take many forms.

EmigrantPeakBrownBirdStudio1-imp

Mother Earth is waking up with babies. Every kind of wild-fertile-life-explosion-of-exuberance baby: bison calves, wolf cubs, fox kits, fawns, elk calves, gopher kits. Eaglets, goslings, osprey chicks and kildeer chiclets. A hatch of mayflies and a hatch of trout fry, bunnies, ducklings, loonlets and grebelets.

Elk Cow and Calf

Birds mate, nest and raise a brood. Or they just pass through, feeding all around us – energy for the journey.

  • A grebe mother floats by with a brood of grebelets on her back. Two of them are just behind, tucked up against her tail as close as they can be, in the wild, rising waters.
  • Yellow-headed blackbirds sing their water-in-the-throat-joy
  • Dusk brings the chortling call of sandhill cranes, their color that of deer, goose and fallow field
  • Canada geese stand on a snag midstream, high water all around them, calling their distress in not-quite-unison
  • White pelicans glide downriver — a silent line on invisible rolling air-hills
  • Mama eagle brings home a snake, then a rabbit, a duck, a fish — she’s a good provider
  • Nuthatch, woodpecker, chickadee, siskin, finch —  the timbre of bird-song in a meadow swells to a symphony of beats, noise and vibrant texture
  • The cottonwood grove where we met around a fire, is alive with aspen-catkin-fluff dancing in the air to the rhythm of bird-song
  • Above our heads, baby gracklets (made-up-word-warning) strain their wobbly necks from a hole high in an old snag. Their begging calls must fill the parent birds with urgency — bring more bugs! Bring more bugs!
  • A red tailed hawk screams hoarsely from across the flooding river — an osprey answers at dusk

YellowHeaded Blackbird

Our Earth is sacred. There are some places on Earth I can more easily feel and experience that sacredness. The Yellowstone ecosystem is one of those places for me. It is holy ground.

Just for fun, I found some recordings of some of the birds we saw and heard during our retreat. Listen here:

Sandhill Crane

Pine Siskin

Osprey on Nest

Mountain Bluebird

Yellow-headed Blackbird

NOTES:

CREDITS:

  • The River ©Eddie McHugh
  • Recording of American Robin from Slater Museum
  • Aspen Catkins photo ©Matt Lavin
  • River Reflection ©Maureen Shaughnessy (me)
  • Snow Clouds Cloak Emigrant Peak ©Maureen Shaughnessy
  • Elk Cow and Calf ©Maureen Shaughnessy
  • Yellow-Headed Blackbird ©Michelle Lamberson
  • Bird Calls are from Xeno-Canto.org
  • Recording of Pole Creek is by Maureen Shaughnessy

Eating Dirt May Be Good For You

Izzy

For most of human history, people chased things or were chased themselves. They turned dirt over and planted seeds and saplings. They took in Vitamin D from the sun, and learned to tell a crow from a raven (ravens are larger; crows have a more nasal call; so say the birders). And then, in less than a generation’s time, millions of people completely decoupled themselves from nature. — Timothy Egan, NYT

When I was a kid, our typical day after school was finishing our homework, doing a few chores, then running outside to play. When dinner was ready, Mom called us in, we did our after-dinner chores than ran back outside.

We had forts in the woods, and forts in the blackberry brambles. Played kickball, kick-the-can, many variations of tag and hide-and-seek with a whole tribe of neighborhood kids. We captured fireflies in jars, investigated ant hills, caught crawdads with plastic cups, chased dragonflies and hunted snapping turtles in the creek (we didn’t hurt them.) We picked wild strawberries, blackberries and plums.

Elkhorn Creek in SummerWe raised a wild raccoon, lots of polywogs, a few caterpillars, two snapping turtle babies, some squirrel babies and a baby robin. Dug in the dirt, made mud pies, launched ourselves into the creek on rope swings, climbed very tall trees and adventured in the storm sewers. I loved lying on the big hill hear the cow pasture and just watching clouds. I had a secret place under a spiraea bush where I would lie on a blanket to read. Outside.

writing in nature notebooks

What adventure! Totally unstructured. I remember at some point longing to attend a summer camp because some of my friends were going, but I never did. I also didn’t have music or art lessons, extracuricular sports or academic tutoring. We just played (well, we did chores too.)

Life is different for little kids now. It makes me sad to think of how disconnected children are these days, from the natural world.

According to Richard Louv who wrote Last Child in the Woods, “Boys and girls now live a denatured childhood. What little time they (children) spend outside is on designer playgrounds or fenced yards and is structured, safe and isolating. Such antiseptic spaces provide little opportunity for exploration, imagination or peaceful contemplation…

Louv recommends that we re-acquaint our children and ourselves with nature through hiking, fishing, bird-watching and disorganized, creative play. By doing so, he argues, we may lessen the frequency and severity of emotional and mental ailments and come to recognize the importance of preserving nature” — Jeanne Hamming

Deer and Magpie in City Garden

Another excerpt from the book, “Last Child in the Woods:”

As a boy, I was unaware that my woods were ecologically connected with any other forests. Nobody in the 1950s talked about acid rain or holes in the ozone layer or global warming. But I knew my woods and my fields; I knew every bend in the creek and dip in the beaten dirt paths. I wandered those woods even in my dreams. A kid today can likely tell you about the Amazon rain forest—but not about the last time he or she explored the woods in solitude, or lay in a field listening to the wind and watching the clouds move. — Richard Louv

Help me organize my feelings ...

What can we, as teachers, parents, grandparents, and friends of children do, to make sure kids connect with the natural world and reap the benefits of unstructured outdoor, nature-based playtime?  Well, take some action. Any action. Here are 10 things:

  1. Here is an awesome list of resources and ideas, right here. Start with that.
  2. Next, download this guide, “Together In Nature.”
  3. Or … start by just getting outside. Anywhere outside.  With your kids. It doesn’t have to be in a wild place. Be random. Be playful. Let your kids lead the way. Explore. Be curious. Be refreshed.
  4. Splash in the rain.
  5. Go out at night with your baby in your arms.
  6. Take a nap with your child on a blanket in the shade.
  7. Grow some of your own food with your kids.
  8. Push for more nature-based education in schools.
  9. Help create green spaces in your urban community.
  10. Explore your city so you know where the natural places are.

And yes, eating a (little) dirt can be good for you — for your immune system and for the playful sprite inside every one of us.

Jaime-and-ema-imp

LINKS

 

 

 

 

Portrait of Life Well Lived

Mom 21I love my mom so much it makes my heart feel like it’s going to explode. I can feel it in my chest. I feel it in my throat. I feel it in my hands and belly and spine. I know it in my eyes. I know this love in my mind and in my soul.

When I look at her — really look deeply at her — I see her for who she is and not just for who she has been for me.

Mom 5

I love to listen to her stories. I love to support her on my arm as we walk. Wrap my arm around her slender shoulders. Laugh with her. Bring her a cup of tea. Cover her with an extra blanket. Open the car door for her. Share our tears. Share chocolate. Watch her when she doesn’t know I am looking. Wash her hair in the kitchen sink. Cook for her.

I love knowing in the night, that she is snoring gently in a room just a few feet from mine … love knowing she loves me, because when I thanked her for letting me take these portraits of her, and for spending these almost-3-weeks with me, she hugged me and cried. We both cried.

Mom 16

Mom is 82. I feel more deeply connected to her now that I am an adult, than I remember ever feeling as a child. That is not to say I wasn’t close to Mom when I was little — maybe depth of relationship comes with the compression of time, with the way age matters less and less as we grow older. The difference between 80 and 60 is less than between 25 years old and 5.

Mom 9

Today I watched her through my lens. She knew I was looking. She knew my camera would capture every wrinkle and blemish, yet she relaxed and let me pursue something I have wanted for a long time … to capture the elusive portrait of someone who is part of me. Who is so deeply connected to me that when the time comes to let her go it will be the hardest thing I will ever do.

Mom 12

Mom 7 Mom 6

Maybe depth of relationship comes with changes inside me. Changes in that place of rebellion that still burns like a stubborn ember of fire. When I look in the mirror nowadays, I see my facial features softening, melting a little. I look like my mother. I am becoming a beautiful crone. A wise woman. Like her. When I see her through my camera viewfinder, I see myself in 20-some years. And I hope with all my heart, that I am as good and kind and loving a human being as my mom is.

A few more from our photo shoot today:

April Calendar is a Peaceful Montana Sunset

AprilCalendar2014-1024w

Dear Readers: Here is a gift from me to you.

I really do appreciate you. For reading my words and for commenting. I can’t tell you how much it means to me when someone comments, or emails me to let me know they are reading and appreciating my posts. For telling me that I have touched their heart. Just alot. So thank you, and here is a desktop or wall calendar for April that I hope you will enjoy.

Sorry it’s a wee bit late. These calendars are a gift because I want you to have something to remind you of a different way of seeing the world around us. And … well, just ‘cuz…

I’d love to know if you find these useful.

The calendars are free for you to download. I will try to post the calendars the first day or two of each month. The only thing I ask is that you use them only for your personal use. Please don’t sell them yourself. And please do tell your friends these are available. Thank you!

If I don’t have the size or proportion of your computer monitor, or if you would like one for a cell phone, please tell me in the comments and I will make one for you and post it here. This month I am posting two versions: the calendar below may be downloaded and printed for your wall or fridge. The one at the top of this post is desktop wallpaper for your computer.

How do I do this?  Just right-click to save the image. Let me know in comments if you have any trouble. You can download and print either calendar. Happy Springtime to you, wherever you are!

Here’s one for your iPhone: 

AprilCalendar2014-iPhone4

and here is one that’s 1280 pixels wide, for your desktop:

AprilCalendar2014-1280w

And, finally, here is a calendar for your (analog/actual) wall (just print it out on an 8 1/2 x 11 sheet of paper, using the “photo on matte paper” settings.)

April-Calendar-for-Printing

 

Snow Geese, Calligraphy and a Cold Dawn

Snow Geese Flyby

Flyover

Yesterday we made a pilgrimage I’ve made a half dozen times before. We drove to Freezeout Lake near Fairfield, Montana, to witness the annual spring fly-out of a hundred thousand snow geese. Our road trip was short and easy compared to the birds’ many thousand-mile journey. All we had to do was get up at 4:30 am — a totally uncivilized time of day for me (*whine*) — and drive a couple of hours. The geese (up to a half million) weren’t even midway along in their migration from central California to Alaska and the Yukon. Before arriving at Freezeout, the massive flocks of geese had made a 15 to 18 hour non-stop flight. Now that’s a journey!

Freezeout201401-imp

Imagine sitting in your car in dark. Waiting. It’s too cold and windy to wait outside. For now. The engine is running so you can keep your feet warm. You roll the window down and hear a far off murmur.

Just before dawn the sky barely lightens. The murmur resolves like a jazz chord, into low-pitched honks and calls. You sip your hot coffee … turn off the engine. You are quiet. The prairie is quiet.

Freezeout201413-imp

Suddenly you feel a pounding downbeat as several thousand geese erupt from the water’s surface.

Snow Geese Lifting off from the surface of Freezeout Lake

The mass of black dots becomes a cloud of white. Throngs of geese lift in unison, creating a huge black and white spiral. Smooth backs reflect the twilight.  Then the flocks head towards you out of the western darkness.

Snow Geese Flying Over

They are directly overhead in just minutes. Jump out of the car and listen! The sound gives you shivers. So many voices!

Snow Geese Flyby

Look up! Life’s artistry lifts your soul. Snow geese fly in formations that shift and flex — they are writing poetry in calligraphic lines across the sky.

Snow Geese Lift Off

The incredible sound of that many geese flying overhead … going somewhere … makes me feel so connected to life. The sky and the prairie are inside me, those sounds are in my heart and my soul … I am filled with longing. To go … to explore … to belong.

Gleening the Grain in the Wheat Fields

 

Why Nature is So Important to Me

RockyMountainIris

FrontRangeNearAugusta

I grew up in the 50s and 60s. My siblings and I spent every spare moment playing in nature. Our suburban back yard and the meadows, pastures, woods, creeks, oak trees and bramble patches of my childhood are as vivid in my memory as if it happened yesterday.

The moment our school bus dumped us out near our house, we would grab a snack then rush out to play until Mom called us in for dinner. After dinner, in good weather we would head back out until dark, when she would insist we come in and do our chores.

Prairie Gaillardia Bud Opening

Mom taught me the names of all the wildflowers and how to tell the difference between a monocot and a dicot. I learned to value the habitats of hundreds of creatures that lived on the wooded hillsides and creek bottoms near our house.

Slug, salamander, carrion beetle, praying mantis, flying squirrel, cardinal, purple finch, deer, siskin, spring beauty, skunk cabbage, lady slippers, raccoon, possum, badger… their names roll off my mind’s tongue like poetry. 

I would be bereft if our world contained even one less of the thousands of beings I grew to love as a child.

My husband, Tim Carney and I contribute to the Nature Conservancy every year because we believe in the work the conservancy is doing all over this world, especially in our home state of Montana. The Rocky Mountain Front is sacred to us and to the First Nation people. For me, the Front is probably the most spectacular landscape on earth, and it is certainly one of the most ecologically vital habitats for Earth’s creatures. I am thankful to the Conservancy for their work on behalf of the Front.

RockyMountainIris

For 25 years, Tim and I have practiced Huichol shamanism. Integral to Huichol shamanism are daily meditations and seasonal ceremonies that celebrate the heart of Mother Earth … we believe that Nature is sacred; that every entity on earth has a spirit, is literally alive. Mountains and rivers. Stones. Trees. Black bears, wolves, salmon, pine bark beetles and earthworms. Every being deserves our respect.

Deer in Field along the Front Range

Nature is inside us and we live in Nature. The idea that we humans (and everything) contain the dust of ancient stars …. this fits our beliefs perfectly. We are made up of all that surrounds us, all that has come before us. My mind, heart, legs and eyes contain molecules of that juniper tree, of the Yellowstone River, of the garden where I plant beans and corn. And, when I am finished with my body, ideas, breath … my atoms will go forward in time, transforming into other parts of Nature.

three drops of rain on a leaf

My beliefs inform my everyday life, so it makes sense to me to respect and love Nature — it is vital to the health of our world, to our species, to all of life.

When I take my daily walks, I think about stepping gently on my Mother. I think about walking instead of driving. I think about making my ecological footprint as small as possible. This is my meditation as much as praying each morning for healing for myself, family, community and the Earth.

Prairie Forms along the Front Range

I make my living as an artist. The core message I try to express with my art and photography is “connection.” Connection to Nature, to the heart of the Earth. If I can inspire one person to become more deeply connected to the natural world through my artwork, then I know I will have succeeded.

Buds

Both Tim and I have immense appreciation for the Nature Conservancy’s staff and ideals. The work is vitally important to quality of life — ours, yours, our descendants and all of Earth’s creatures. Please consider becoming a donor to the Conservancy and help protect Earth’s heart for future generations.

I originally wrote this article to share on the Nature Conservancy’s Stories site.