Saturday, August 10, 2013

more little sketchbook memories

Our grand Michigan vacation consisted of visiting cottages or lake houses of good friends and family around the south and west of the state. If people had invited us "come, see our lake place!" We did, and enjoyed a nice visit courtesy of invitations. Reminds me of those Jane Austen novels where the poor relations spent their summers visiting the estates of the upper class.
My view as I sat on a dock looking out at the lake on a cloudy day.  No blue sky but some intense and saturated colors as the day changed. There was a swan, just one single lonely swan on this lake. He, (or she), swam past me warily all afternoon. Swans mate for life, I wondered what happened to this one's mate? Is it a sad story?

Later on that same day, I heard a loon crying. Is there a way to express the chill longing sound of the loon on a misty lake with a sketchbook and paint?

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