Wednesday, September 30, 2009

wednesday 30 september

translucently green
maple leaves in the sun

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

tuesday 29 september

the woodland path
disappearing under
a layer of leaves

. . .

A big thank you to Ann B. who let me know the comment feature wasn't working. Weird. I think I've got that fixed (you coders will appreciate that I made a change that logically should have had no effect whatsoever — classic).

So, please, have at it!

Monday, September 28, 2009

monday 28 september

the universe
in three tiny mushrooms
on the mossy tree stump

Sunday, September 27, 2009

sunday 27 september

late september —
the shadows on the creek bed
barely move

Saturday, September 26, 2009

saturday 26 september

memorial stone —
light and shadow dance
in the kanji

The last Saturday in September was a good day for a ginko at Kubota Garden with the Northwest Haiku Society. A heron was there, scaring the koi, and turtles sunned themselves on stones in the spring-fed pond.

A ginko is a haiku walk. Christopher wrote poems on yellow maple leaves.

Friday, September 25, 2009

friday 25 september

afternoon sunbeams
caught in spiders' webs
and vice versa

Thursday, September 24, 2009

thursday 24 september

warm september days —
summer dawdles on the stage
showing off

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

wednesday 23 september

thin green line —
the mossy tree trunk
caught in a sunbeam

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

tuesday 22 september

beach umbrellas
popping up like mushrooms —
autumn equinox

Umbrellas in Seattle on the first day of autumn? Sure. Beach umbrellas? Not so much.

Currently 85 degrees and cloudless. If it weren't for the 7.07pm sunset, this would be a dead ringer for midsummer.

Monday, September 21, 2009

monday 21 september

last day of summer --
yellow leaves float by
and are lost

Sunday, September 20, 2009

sunday 20 september

even the seaweed
seems to smell like bacon —
bbq contest

The Evergreen State BBQ Competition is at Alki Beach this weekend. This looks to be another one of those subcultures the rest of us are unaware of — teams and families that pack up their humongous, industrial smokers (vaguely reminiscent of iron lungs) every summer weekend and drive to the next competition.

I'm a big fan of BBQ ribs (my brother does killer ones), but I can't imagine smelling them all the time.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

saturday 19 september

coho swimming
from salt water to fresh —
sea lions belly flop

On the 24th International SketchCrawl Day, I got to hook up with the Seattle UrbanSketchers at the Ballard Locks.

Train bridge going up and down, rain stopping and starting, umbrella crammed between my shoulder & wall, toddler grabbing my water bottle — it was all good.

Afterward some of us talked about paper, travel sketch journals, etc. over lunch and a pint at the Lockspot. Sweet!

Friday, September 18, 2009

friday 18 september

wild morning glory
closing up tight —
new moon

Thursday, September 17, 2009

thursday 17 september

old growth
giving sustenance to new —
nurse log

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

wednesday 16 september

before the rain comes
the air grows still and heavy
and hard to breathe in

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

tuesday 15 september

september evening —
turning the corner into

I had another play of sunlight and shadow drawn, but this 'light at the end of the tunnel' demanded to be the poemsketch of the day.

Monday, September 14, 2009

monday 14 september

stuck into the fence
two dozen white carnations —
floral graffiti

Sunday, September 13, 2009

sunday 13 september

the soft hollow 'thunk'
of my footsteps on
the old wooden bridge

Saturday, September 12, 2009

saturday 12 september

peeling away
layers of color —

In Lincoln Park, madrona trees line the path along the bluff above the bay. One of my favorite places to walk in West Seattle.

Friday, September 11, 2009

friday 11 september

under old growth
a small stream softly sings
its deepening path

Thursday, September 10, 2009

thursday 10 september

september market —
warm with the jewel tones
of chyrsanthemums

Two of which are now on my deck.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

wednesday 9 september

a sketch made just
for the thrill of dating it
nine nine oh nine

I read that the next time there will be a single digit date is in 92 years, so couldn't miss my opportunity to write 09.09.09.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

tuesday 8 september

september —
the sunflowers can barely
hold up their heads

monday 7 september

labor day —
the american river
flowing idly

sunday 6 september

sunday market —
tasting peaches and honey
with the farmers

The Folsom farmers' market is smaller than the one in West Seattle, but delightfully quiet and low key, especially early; every single farmer said hello. Guinness, the Welsh terrier, was much admired. I was just sorry that TSA requirements prevented me from getting a jar of blackberry honey to bring home.

Later in the day, the peaches, raspberries and strawberries were delicious on top of homemade ice cream.

saturday 5 september

early september —
blue-purple grapes hanging
heavy on the vines

The family went to Napa Valley on the first day of the long weekend. Lots of pinot grapes ripening at Domaine Chandon, where the etoile brut was flowing and delicious.

I didn't have my watercolors, so my niece lent me her colored pencils to complete the sketch -- the etoile captain had given us the OK to park and sketch "the first four rows"... give or take.

Friday, September 4, 2009

friday 4 september

the yin-yang
of a September morning —
full moon setting

You go out to see the sunrise and instead see a big ol' full moon sinking into the clouds over the Olympic mountains! Literally breathtaking.

And someone moored their sailboat off Alki Beach overnight to add some interest to the view. Thanks, guys.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

thursday 3 september

leaves turn to gold
seemingly overnight —
autumn's alchemy

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

wednesday 2 september

an evening walk
in sunlight and short sleeves
softens all the edges

Posting late today, so there's the reflection of light on wet paint as I hurried to photograph the sketch.

After a hectic day, to just stand and listen to the creeksong is such a blessing.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

tuesday 1 september

the end of summer —
all the insects
eating their hearts out