Early February marks the beginning of a new year in the ancient microseasons calendar. Right now in North Carolina, it’s a great time to notice the architecture of the forest. The huge “hub” trees really stand out before the landscape gets clothed in thick layers of green leaves.
So today I’m just walking along looking for these old giants. I think this enormous Beech is especially impressive.
I love its gesture and curves, the patterned bark, and the way it lights up in the morning sun. In a few weeks, its large canopy and extensive roots will help feed the smaller trees, surrounding plants, and underground mycelium. Isn’t it amazing?
I’m also noticing how the air smells freshly washed after yesterday’s rain. Everything has been dialed up a notch; there’s a brightness in the sun and a bit more birdsong. Though the air is still cold, sunlight warms the brimming creek as it rushes along making tiny waterfalls.
This combination helps me know that a shift is coming.
I decide to gather some natural materials to use for painting in my sketchbook this afternoon. Ferns, pine cones, and leaves make fun and interesting marks. I’ll use them just to get the first layer of paint going on the blank page like this:
I’m just making something joyful that hints at reality. It’s fun and fast, free form and messy—like art when we were kids. We never have to stop playing with art supplies!
Observing the microseason is simple— take a walk today and just check in with your senses. What’s different today? See what’s interesting to you and make a small response to it: a photo, a sketch, a note in the digital or analog tool of your choice.
Or just get outside.
Get out of your head and breathe in *this* day.
Don’t miss Microseason 1– it won’t last long.
I only joined your newsletter in the late summer I think, so I have missed your earlier posts. But I'm going to go through them these next few months, as St. Brigid's Day has passed and a new cycle has begun :) I love that phrase "the architecture of the forest". It immediately reminded me of a poem I read a couple of day ago by Barbara Crooker called Praise Song. She writes about "the architecture of trees".