Artist's Notes

Majestic moose are seldom seen around here and to me are like mythical gods of the woods. As large as they are, they can seem to magically appear and disappear. And we are awestruck--frozen, speechless, feeling so blessed-- as they pass. Why the blue nose and spots?? Call it artistic license.

Salamanders usually hide in dark damp clumps of leaves or underneath rotting logs, so it is always an unexpected delight to find them! I adore their bright spotted suits and goofy swagger, but my heart goes out to them because as amphibians they seem so vulnerable!

Woodcock. If you have never gone 'timberdoodling,' you absolutely must! I am so lucky to have woodcocks doing their strutting and soaring and diving right in my back yard; you might also!  Just listen intently in April at dusk for their loud raspy "peeenntt!!" 

Bluebird. Anyone who has seen the sun strike the back of a bluebird feels joy. You were paying attention when the angles were such that that exotic radiance lifted your spirits. Robin Wall Kimmerer writes, "A gift comes to you through no action of your own, free, having moved toward you without your beckoning. It is not a reward; you cannot earn it, or call it to you, or even deserve it. And yet it appears. Your only role is to be open-eyed and present."  My mom, very much open-eyed and present, often uses the expression "a bluebird day" when the sky is a cloudless deep blue, but since I have learned to understand her poetic mind, it is also the kind of day to be prepared for sudden gifts, sudden joy.

Scarlet Tanager. Speaking of radiance so exotic to our northern New England staid palette, the scarlet tanager is the kind of co-inhabitant that makes me feel like I don't have to travel to the tropics to see brilliant plumage. And I will spend all kinds of precious time scanning the upper oaks when I suspect there is a nest site just to get glimpses of them. 

I have done considerable deep diving into the life and work of Abbott Handerson Thayer (1849-1921), a marvelous painter, a 'painter's painter', and total eccentric, who grew up in Keene and set up an influential studio in the Dublin woods. He took up the subject of angels frequently, such as his Angel of Monadnock. Although this little girl is from Keene today, I gave her a posture and gesture similar to one of Thayer's angels. 

Monarch Butterfly. Although I am not a lepidopterist, I believe that monarch butterflies return to the very same little patch of milkweed after their transcontinental migration, which is why I keep them in my gardens even when friends delicately ask, "Did you know you have milkweed growing in your gardens?"  I am one of those that hunt for their eggs, and try to keep track of their jauntily-striped caterpillars, and daily inventory their golden beaded chrysalises. They remind me of the magnitude of distance that even the small things traverse and depend on.  It makes me sad when milkweed-laden meadows get converted to some human purpose that deems them unsuitable. 

Luna Moth. So large and delicate and exquisitely pale, the truly celestial moon moth has visited me only once in 24 years of living here (at least that I've noticed!). This nocturnal goddess has no mortal needs for a one week lifespan, only the desire to reproduce!

Lady Slipper Orchid. Another one of those moments when you can rightfully feel like you live in a tropical-like paradise, is coming upon one of these rather large orchids in the spring woods. Breathtaking.

Wild Blueberries. Because my meadows have dozens of wild blueberry bushes, low and high, I can fill my freezers and never worry about competition with the bears and the birds. To live in that kind of abundance, if only briefly, is my version of a religious experience. And I love watching children discover blueberries along our mountain trails, or along the lake shore edge. We have our cold winters and acidic granite bedrock to thank for making our blueberry paradise!

Starflower. This distinctive little woodland herb is a childhood favorite of my boys, being so easy to identify, with a fun name and sweetly radial in both leaves and petals.  We have a section of woods we call Starflower Woods where they proliferate, and bring distinction to a barrage of forest life. 

Milkweed stalks inspired the lighter green background pattern for this section. Based on my earlier notes on the monarch butterfly,  it makes me sad when milkweed-laden meadows get converted to some human purpose that deems them unsuitable. I think they are gorgeous, even the wild ones, in all stages: spherical inflorescences of mauves and lavenders, their elfin-eared pods and of course their flying silky white fluff seeds! I once made paper with these seeds and denim lint from the dryer which is still a favorite of mine.

Hobblebush. My husband, a forest ecologist, especially adores this forest bush. It is a hallmark of the northern New England woods, and does not like it warm! There is so much grace packed into this plant, it was hard to decide which phase to honor. Its leafbuds are like hands in prayer in winter, its fruits are bright red balls in late summer and fall. But its showy snowy white clusters of flowers in the spring are what I needed for my design.

Wild Strawberries. In Robin Wall Kimmerer's book Braiding Sweetgrass is a passage called the "Gift of Strawberries" which made a lot of sense to me and inspired their presence here (also because I was enjoying nibbling on them as I gardened while making this mural). She writes, "Even now, after more than fifty Strawberry Moons, finding a patch of wild strawberries still touches me with a sensation of surprise, a feeling of unworthiness and gratitude for the generosity and kindness that comes with an unexpected gift all wrapped in red and green. 'Really? For me? Oh, you shouldn't have.' After fifty years they still raise the question of how to respond to their generosity. Sometimes it feels like a silly question with a very simple answer: eat them." But Kimmerer goes on to explain that in gift economy, unlike simply paying for and owning something, "The essence of the gift is that it creates a set of relationships. The currency of a gift economy is, at its root, reciprocity." So enjoy these sweet wild ruby gifts scattered at your feet, and care for the earth that freely gives them to you. 

Fireflies. No matter how old you are, fireflies (or lightning bugs as I grew up calling them) are emblems of the faery world, or childhood, or pure summer, or romance, or nostalgia or the like. These flying beetles with glowing abdomens are signaling to each other but do they know how much they stir in humans?

Cecropia Moth. Deep woodsy, beautifully cryptic, native and huge, these nocturnal beauties are seldom seen by us domestic diurnal types. I was given my first brood of cecropia moth catepillars from a Massachusetts woman, and raised them faithfully for years on my screen porch--cocoons on the furniture, eggs on the screens, me bringing in daily bunches of wild cherry branches. "Wild" moths from the forest would come check out the captives and be clinging to the outside of the porch screens. I set up displays in my kids' elementary classrooms, proudly the weird mom. 

I've scaled Mt. Monadnock countless times, year-round, especially the old Dublin trail, which before it was re-routed and when I was younger, I could go up and down in 70 minutes, literally on my way to work. I knew every step. Keene, from its Ashuelot flats, boasts an impressive view of the Monadnock profile, and my angel here needed her mountain. You have to be east of it, however, to see it glowing orange like this in the dawn.

Red-spotted Newt. This amphibian has a highly conspicuous bright orange life stage, the juvenile terrestrial stage, called an eft. So what you see here is a 'red eft'. They make long treks across the forest floor to return to pools for the aquatic adult stage, the 'newt,' which turns itself into an olive green skin (but still the red spots). If it has been wet at all, it is easy to see many of these little fellas making their merry way. If I can, I try to help them across roads to prevent them from being squashed (being careful not to handle them too much and get my oils on their breathable skin). If I go out on my rural dirt road after a warm rainy night, I might find a hundred dead red efts having been run over by cars. Please try not to drive too much around here on rainy summer nights!

Striped Maple. I never knew what moosewood was until I lived here, even though I lived near Ithaca NY for nine years prior, home of the famous Moosewood Restaurant. Striped Maple is an interior designer's  understory tree, shown here with its spring flower 'chandeliers,' its striped bark, its broad goose-foot leaves--and in the fall its winged seeds!

Paper Birch. My favorite of the birches. You really can get a thin papery paper-sized sheet of bark to write on and roll up in a scroll. I see these as love letters from the tree, curling off the trunk and scattered on the forest floor. They are also the best kindling for a romantic campfire! I realize I designed-up the branch scars as trippy eyes, but that's okay--I like the reciprocity.

Poor bats! They are getting hammered by disease and erroneous public opinion! Please protect them and provide for them as they swoop around gobbling up mosquitos, beetles, black flies, and generally deterring all sorts of insect pests! Our only true flying mammal--how cool is that??

White Pine. These are the giants. I love how their crazy asymmetrical weather-beaten tops pierce the canopies and horizon lines of our rolling hills. 

People are obviously an important part of the ecological picture anywhere. We have the responsibility to take care of our fellow creatures. I get asked about the person shown here. She is based on a young girl from Keene who was walking by the site of the mural on the day I was being shown the spot where it was to go. I asked if she wouldn't mind standing there "for scale," having no notion of subject matter at the time. But since I wanted a human as 'part of the picture' of local beings, well I couldn't have a more authentic model. I have done other paintings of girls of similar age, because to me it was a magical time before heightened self-consciousness when I lived in supernatural ease with myself, the world, my imagination and a future of possibilities. It's okay if you see sadness, but I rather think of wistfulness, shyness and discomfort with display.  She is the goddess of this mural, assisted by her spotted blue muse. Do you see her wings? See my notes on her gesture above. 

Lakes and Ponds. Behind the moose is abstracted water. I always thought I had the perfect childhood growing up on a farm on the Chesapeake Bay... but then here I discovered pond hockey! Everywhere you go in this zone are little ponds, big ponds, bogs,  wetlands, vernal pools, creeks, seeps, you name it! I am told to thank the glaciers scouring our granite bedrock 15,000 years ago.

Moosehut!? I am blessed with many creative and talented friends, and this band comes to play at my house once a year. I snuck in a secret reference to them just based on the nature and the timing of my working on this project. They are great people-- some of the nicest, friendliest, musical guys you could ever know--and this mural is about the good life. My good life here in this pocket of the universe is full of both good music and good friends. 

My father always took interest in my art dabblings, but he did not live to see me pursue it seriously. He would recommend to me to put little secrets into my work, especially if it was going public. So it is an homage to him that I included a self-portrait on her shirt.