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We find ourselves living in strange, extraordinary times. For the most part, my actual life really hasn’t changed much – both my husband and I work at home, but it’s impossible not to be aware of how this pandemic has crippled society as we know it. Despite my anxiety, I find that I am continually seeking things to be grateful for. I can paint. We have electricity. We have enough in the pantry. We’re not desperate – yet – for toilet paper. (!)

And I'm very grateful for my walks.

No matter what's going on in the social world, I find that nature - the real world - sustains and inspires me. There’s a stream fed pond right across the street – I can see it from my studio window. I noticed that a pair of Canada geese have been hanging around; it looks like they’re setting up to nest there again this year. I’m hopeful. The last few nights I’ve been hearing the unmistakable call of a great horned owl; the deer are often ruminating in the pine stand out back, and the flycatchers and the swallows have returned. The warblers will be here soon.

I often venture into the nearby fields after the crops have been harvested and before the spring planting. The expanse of an open field makes you feel as if you’re in the middle of nowhere and you just never know what you might see. A pileated woodpecker is heard frequently in the area and I’m always trying to get a good photo of him. 

It’s not uncommon to spot and photograph both whitetail deer and red fox. And even if I don’t actually see anything, I can always find animal signs - tracks or scat, tufts of fur or feathers, burrows or nests. I’ve even discovered skulls that – if they’re clean enough – I’ve taken home as treasures to add to my collection.

Recently, I was walking across a big field bordered by woods when I discovered a small herd of deer in the near distance. I decided to just stand in the open on a hill in the middle of the field, quiet and still.

It appeared that the deer neither noticed nor recognized me as human - I was downwind, so I just waited and observed, taking photos with as little movement as possible. They slowly moved towards me, first one, then another and another until there were at least seven deer less than 75 feet away from me. I took over 350 photos as they posed and grazed in the late afternoon light, almost holding my breath so I wouldn't give myself away.

It was inevitable that one of them would finally raise the alarm, realizing that I was not an innocent tree in the field. They began moving off, after a lot of stamping and snorting – but without panic. They seemed more curiously wary than afraid, even though hunters often use that field in deer season.

To me, it’s these experiences that make life so incredibly amazing. The photos will not only inform me of the light and the colours, the gestures of the deer, the surrounding environment – they will also jog my memory of the actual experience and how it made me feel; this emotion is what creates my paintings.

Here's the first of what I hope will be several paintings inspired by that experience. "Focus on the Quiet" is a 2 1/2" x 3 1/2" miniature acrylic on panel. The title reflects these trying times we live in, as I remind myself to keep breathing and to focus on the quiet.

Don't panic. Get outside for a walk and notice whatever nature offers you. And yes, please wash your hands. 

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