The tiny musings found below will perhaps provide you an opportunity to pause and reflect on our world and our place in it. You can subscribe to receive posts in your inbox (approximately once a week)! Note: all writing and art is © Christopher Buddle.
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schools
somewhere in the sea
swimming in all directions
class is always in
Sometimes as I trudge about in this terrestrial world I pause an imagine the vast oceans, and the aquatic creatures therein. They live in a mysterious world – one of high pressure, darkness, and ever-present threats and opportunities. I can understand why so many fish do school together. Strength in numbers sounds important in such an imposing environment.
Go, fish, Go.
UPDATE:
An old friend of mine (who is now a retired geography teacher) sent me a Haiku inspired by the one above. I love it and wanted to share here;
somewhere in the past
swimming in ALL directions
was my Geography class
© Christopher M Buddle 2024
art, drawing, ecology, Fish, ink, nature, pen, poetry, school, sea, underwater, Watercolor, Watercolour -
by a thread
a single silk thread
gently sway with autumn’s breeze
survive, thrive
I do love seeing spiders this time of year, although it is with a touch of sadness since their lives are winding down. However, many of the web-building species do mate in late summer or autumn and their egg-sacs overwinter, hatching in the spring and starting the cycle again.
I also find the resilience of spiders something to admire. If you handle spiders (which I often do*) and they happen to jump off your hand or arm, they will release a drag-line. This silk strand catches them as they fall and they often keep releasing silk as they fall so when they get to the ground, it’s a gentle landing.
While many people dislike spiders, I do encourage you to take pause and admire them (or their handiwork). They are remarkable animals.
*spider bites are exceedingly rare. So while there are many stories of bites out there, it’s very unlikely you will be bitten by a spider.
© Christopher M Buddle 2024
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soaring
gales, gusts, thermals
tracking the patchwork below
avian dreams
© Christopher M Buddle 2024
art, bird, Birds, drawing, flying, ink, Landscape, nature, ornithology, pen, poetry, Watercolor, Watercolour -
the barn
forgotten barn
holds memories of back-breaking work
spirits from afar
Many traditional barns have been replaced by large, modern structures, but the old ones still stand and tell their own stories. They speak to us from their quiet corners on seldom travelled country roads. Shrubs have grown up around the faded wood, and on a windy day you just might hear the weathered slats rattling. I am not really a believer of ghosts, but at the same time, if you asked me to sit quietly in an old barn, on my own, I think I would hear things and sense things that are not of this world. But these old buildings are beautiful in their own right, standing proud, acting as landing spots for birds and safe harbour for wild creatures.
© Christopher M Buddle 2024
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morning song
the meadowlark
morning-song across the fields
my steps seem lighter
Meadowlarks are simply amazing birds – the males have incredible colouration, but what I most adore is their song. In my part of the world, Eastern Meadowlarks are sometimes seen, but much rarer of late, and they are a declining species in general, across their range. Their habitats are open fields, and grasslands and prairies, and these habitats are in decline. They also occur in agricultural fields, but farm practices can damage their populations.
I had a weekend getaway recently and was on a property in the country, with plenty of farm fields nearby. When walking the dog early one morning, to my delight I heard and saw Eastern Meadowlarks. Indeed, I was buoyed by this experience. I quickly pulled out a set of odd-ball art supplies I had at the place we rented, and the image above is a quick rendition of the bird, with a mix of pencil, pencil crayon, ink, and watercolour.
Grab your sketchbook! Keep your eyes and ears open!
Nature awaits.
© Christopher M Buddle 2024
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adrift
warm October sun
feathered seeds, adrift
an autumn escape
Milkweed pods with their seeds emerging are a strong symbol of autumn. Walking through fields in October, seeing the seeds in flight, with their long plumes, is just lovely. They are a reminder of the season that has passed, but also the seasons ahead.
Seeds contain potential and hope.
© Christopher M Buddle 2024
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from the shadowed forest floor
shadowed forest
escape the drab detritus
magic, tiny world
It’s mushroom season! (but not for much longer, as the frosts and cooler weather is starting now).
Mushrooms are splendid – and while they appear throughout the year, they are especially prevalent in the autumn months, poking up from the forest floor. A joy to see, a joy to pick (for mycologists who know the right species for eating).
Revel in their splendor!
© Christopher M Buddle 2024
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the woods
through quiet spruce
the shadows dance and lead me
never lost
I just finished the novel North Woods by Daniel Mason*. I loved it. It was sweeping, intricate, and covered so many themes, from apple orchards and ecological succession, to art and the afterlife. It was at times confusing, and wandered here and there, and then at times was crystal clear, and focused. I was especially fond of the ways the author weaved in the patterns of tree disease and the ways the woods of the north-east have been shaped by blights, beetles, and various kinds of fungi.
I feel that one of the underlying themes (at least for me!) was about the mismatch between a human’s life in a forest compared to the life and death of trees, and how once stood Chestnuts and Elms, and soon we will say farewell to Ash trees, and our Hemlocks are under siege. Yet we forget so quickly and assume sometimes the forests of today have some resemblance to the forests of yesterday. I mean, they do in some ways – there are trees, canopy, undergrowth.
We are the here and now, yet a tree’s here and now is decades longer than ours. Slow change is still change and only those who watch carefully might notice the details. If you stand in one place for long enough, these differences become apparent. Mason’s book uses an 18th century house in Massachusetts as this foundational character that watched the world change.
The watercolour above is bookmark size, and one that I did several years ago. It’s an attempt to capture a forest scene, but not one I know directly, but rather one from perhaps a memory or just made up completely. I love that “The Woods” is something people know even if they are highly variable and made of such different species. Forests are forests – we know what they are even it’s a thicket with spruce or other evergreens, or a young patch of trembling aspen. Everyone knows a single tree in a field isn’t a forest, but once you bring together enough trees – just enough – you suddenly call it a forest. Maybe when it’s big enough so if you stand in the middle of the woods, you can no longer see the edge? Maybe it’s when the tree canopy is big enough and full enough so that the interior of the woods is truly shaded?
Forests are magical places, and we should not forget that.
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*here’s a review of the book, if you are interested: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/sep/16/north-woods-by-daniel-mason-review-an-epic-of-american-lives
© Christopher M Buddle 2024
art, book, drawing, environment, forest, ink, nature, north woods, pen, poetry, reading, succession, tree, trees, Watercolor, Watercolour, woods -
Light your way
through the fog
beacon of hope emerges
lost in time
I posted about my trip to Nova Scotia recently, and wanted today to share another story from there. For one day on that trip, I visited a friend’s place that looked out towards “the salvages”, and in the distance the square form of the salvages lighthouse was just visible. Like the other lighthouses of the region, this one no longer has a permanent lighthouse keeper and instead is automated.
Lighthouses are symbolic of so much – in the literal sense they warn sea-going vessels of the rocks, shoals and dangers ahead, ensuring chances of running ground are diminished. But their steady, solid presence also represent a beacon of hope in dark, dreary times. One can imagine being in a terrible place, scared and lonely, and then seeing up ahead in the distance the blink of the light – letting you know that shore is near – helping you get your bearings.
Probably 25 years ago or more, I had a very vivid dream about a mystery associated with a lighthouse and the lighthouse keeper’s family. This dream came to me as I was sleeping in a hotel room in Spokane. Just I was waking up I heard, on the radio, an interview with the author of the story – a novel. Upon waking I jotted down the title of the book and filed that. I looked it up some time later, but couldn’t find the book. There was so much detail in the interview – I could almost smell the coastline and hear the waves. This was a narrative set in perhaps Nova Scotia, or maybe off the coast of Maine – those rocky, howling coastlines. The places where the full force of the Atlantic crashes relentlessly during the winter months.
The dream was so vivid it took me years to come to the realization that the interview with the author was just a dream. I just could not find the book title.
The lighthouse of my dreams was on a rocky island, much like the Salvages Lighthouse – only accessible by boat.
Whenever I see lighthouses my mind is therefore filled with stories, myths, ideas, dreams and symbols.
© Christopher M Buddle 2024
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Dragons in the sky
darting dragons
over frosty meadows
light slowly fades
There are some species of dragonfly that are active well into the autumn months, including the Autumn Meadowhawk, loosely depicted in the watercolour above. That is just a perfect common name – hawk of the meadows – quickly flying over the fields, snapping flying insects from the sky. Dragonflies are ancient insects – with a body plan that has changed little for millions of years. They are brilliant fliers, but also very effective hunters during their aquatic larval stage.
I featured the Autumn Meadowhawk in a Portrait of Astonishing Nature, a book you can purchase and help support the Creek 53 Conservancy Trust – special wild lands near my home in Quebec.
© Christopher M Buddle 2024
art, autumn, dragonfly, drawing, entomology, ink, insect, Insects, nature, poetry, Watercolor, Watercolour
Nature's Reverie 