A New Leaf
A New Leaf
The maple tree has seriously leafed out, and the new bright green leaves are lit by late afternoon sun and seem to glow.
Poem for Sunday: Dogwoods
Dogwood Blossoms
I’ve never seen another dogwood like this one except out in the woods here in western Pennsylvania, which is where I found it. With friends, I was exploring an old abandoned farm that had been sold for development. A long row of blooming daffodils lined the driveway, leading us to the spot where the house had been; only an open rectangle of grass was left, but it was surrounded by forsythia and roses and lilacs and Star of Bethlehem spilling around in the grass and many, many more plants which would have bloomed all through the growing season. Someone had loved growing things and so did we, so we took what we could to preserve their memory knowing they’d only be plowed under.
Dogwood Blossom
Off in the woods, irregular clouds of white blossoms lit the shadows along what had been roads or paths to outbuildings, and we found lovely native dogwoods with the largest flowers I’ve ever seen, at least four inches across with creamy ridged petals and the characteristic divot at the end of each. What had been but a twig growing on a hillside in the woods is now a full and fervent tree with white flowers in spring, dense green leaves all summer, bright red fruits in late summer and red-violet leaves in fall. Who could improve on that?
One year as it bloomed I saw it at night, a hazy glowing shape, the light of spring that could not be extinguished even by darkness. Hence, this poem.
Dogwoods
The dogwoods are blooming up and down my street.
The breaking of the cold,
The unusually warm, brilliant spring day
Has brought my neighbors out to wash cars and cut grass.
Like the returning birds
Their conversations drift and circle from yard to yard
And cross the street on capricious breezes;
We have been put away all winter
Like articles of summer clothing
Our potential at rest,
Yet now, even at night,
Pale, airy clouds of blossoms
Hover in the darkness all over the neighborhood.
Dogwoods ©2005 Bernadette E. Kazmarski
I read this poem as part of my very first poetry reading and art exhibit at Andrew Carnegie Free Library & Music Hall, “Paths I Have Walked”.
In December, 2006, two of my poems were chosen to be published on a section of the Prairie Home Companion website entitled “Stories From Home/First Person” for submissions of writing about the place we feel most familiar; Dogwoods and Road Trip, Late July, Western Pennsylvania were both chosen as two of the first entries and led to my annual poetry readings—more on that below.
Read more poetry here on Today or visit my poetry page to see more about my poetry and other writing, and to purchase Paths I Have Walked.
Paths I Have Walked, collected poems.
I’m proud to offer a folio of my poetry
Paths I Have Walked: the poetry and art of Bernadette E. Kazmarski
FROM FOUR ANNUAL POETRY READINGS AT ANDREW CARNEGIE FREE LIBRARY & MUSIC HALL IN CARNEGIE, PA
People who attended one or more of my poetry readings encouraged me to publish some of my poetry in a book from the beginning.
Once I completed my 2010 poetry reading, my fourth featuring the final piece of artwork in the “Art of the Watershed” series, I decided it was time to publish something and it should be those four poetry readings.
Poetry books are not best-sellers; it’s difficult to convince a publisher to risk effort on a beginning poet, and while self-publishing is the best option it’s not inexpensive and once you’ve got the book, someone’s got to market it. Plus, I’m a graphic designer and I designed books for years, and I want things my way.
All of this is a recipe for a little bit of trouble, but I decided the book was well worth the effort so I designed the book myself and had a set printed—no ISBN or anything formal, but it’s a start! I’m really excited to offer it.
Books are 4.25″ x 11″, 40 pages of information and poetry, with glossy covers featuring “Dusk in the Woods” and little thumbnails of all four pieces in “Art of the Watershed”.
$8.00 each plus $2.50 shipping (they are oversized for mailing first class).
You can order one on my poetry page, or in my Marketplace.
About the books and the poetry readings
My biggest inspiration for poetry, prose and artwork is the world right around me, and I enjoy the opportunity to share it from the perspective of one who walks and hikes and bikes and carries a camera, art materials and journal everywhere—even around the house—so the inspirations are fresh.
In December, 2006, two of my poems were chosen to be published on a section of the Prairie Home Companion website entitled “Stories From Home/First Person” for submissions of writing about the place we feel most familiar. I’m a long-time listener to PHC and reader of Garrison Keillor’s books as well as a daily listener to The Writer’s Almanac featuring news about writers and writing and of interest to writers as well as a poem, all compiled and read by Keillor himself. I was astonished to find my poems were among the first chosen from apparently thousands, and so happy to be able to share them with a potential audience of so many similarly inclined writers and readers.
My poetry readings and art exhibits were the vision of Maggie Forbes, executive director of the Andrew Carnegie Free Library & Music Hall, after learning of my publishing of those two poems. I owe her many thanks for encouraging me to present this combination of my visual and literary art, a first for me. I love that building, every inch of it, and the opportunity to bring people in to visit is an honor.
Pear Blossoms
Pear Blossoms
Finally my pear tree is blooming. the blossoms are actually pure white, but I liked this creamy tone in dappled sun, early.
Meanwhile Last Year: Illuminated Blossoms
Illuminated blossoms.
The pear trees were blooming on Main Street on this day last year! Not a sign of any pear trees or magnolia, and even the daffodils are hesitating.
Ready to Burst
Ready to Burst
The leaf buds on my silver maple trees are just ready to burst open, especially in the brief clear spot we had this morning.
Poem for Sunday: Things I Found in the Woods
A delicate fern frond reaches for the sun from last year’s dried stems.
Every year the winter opens up to a few days of warm intoxicating sun and mud in January or February, and I’ve run outside to celebrate the day. In 2012 it was February 5, two days after my 20-year-old tortoiseshell kitty Cookie died, and as I enjoyed the warm day and remembered this poem, I knew exactly what I wanted to create as a dedication to my faithful heart cat, my best friend.
I originally wrote this poem in 2006 for another senior Kitty, Moses, as I knew her body was failing and she had little time left, and in 2012 was glad to dedicate my first recording of one of my poems to Cookie, leading me to a new means of expression and sharing my creative efforts. I have a link to the recorded poem with slideshow at the end of this article along with a few notes about creating it. You can read and listen to the poem and also more about Cookie, Moses, and the creative inspirations of my feline muses in this post on The Creative Cat; here on Today I have only the poem and the recording.
Things I Found in the Woods
Dedicated to Moses, the most gentle, loving being I have ever encountered.
Tiny rivulets of water released from thawing soil
flowing beneath last year’s debris, trickling and gurgling all around
hurrying down hillsides before the freeze returns.
A cup-shaped fungus holding a tablespoon of snowmelt
for a song sparrow to sip, practicing its vernal melody
for the time when spring arrives in earnest.
Ferns, newly-green, draped on cliffs,
fluttering like garlands in the mild, caressing breeze
gathering a little nourishment to last the rest of the winter.
Fallen trees blanketed with bright green moss,
thick and lush already in the brief January thaw
filling a span of life in but a few days.
Four young white-tailed deer, capricious as the gusts,
feeling the flush of their first spring as adults
cavorting as if winter might not return tomorrow.
An understanding that life and love are cycles,
and that the moment must be taken for what it offers
even if what it offers is not what we expect.
The strength and courage to show as much dignity as you,
and to walk this last precious part of your path with you
and when I can walk no more beside you
to let you go.
“Things I Found in the Woods” © 2006 Bernadette E. Kazmarski
I had never before experienced the spring thaw in such wonderment at the transience of life—still winter but everything that lived was taking advantage of the moment.
So was Moses. So should I.
So I resolved just to let her follow her course and she would let me know what to do.
Listen to the Poem
I have always enjoyed reading my poetry to others, and had always wanted to try a little multi-media project including a slideshow of photos with narration. In February 2012 I lost my 20-year-old kitty Cookie, my best friend from practically the day she joined my household as a rescue and who spent many long days and nights over those years staying by my side as I found my creative life; I created this first recorded presentation in honor of her.
There are no photos of Cookie or any other cats in this; though I wrote it for Moses and dedicate this project to Cookie, it is what I found I feel about love, loss, and letting go. I was led to this knowledge, of course, by my cats. Thank you, my feline muses, as always, for showing me the way.
It’s also not timed quite right as some of the groups of images are shorter or longer than the stanza. Some of the photos I included at the end are from significant moments, for instance, the asters on Cookie’s picnic table bench from a morning Cookie and I were in the yard last October, the “Wolf Moon” in the bare tree and the sunset with the evening stars references to my mother who also passed last year at this time. Coordinating, more or less, with the second verse, the forsythia with the tiny song sparrow in the middle of it is actually from the morning of February 2 as I held Cookie on my lap and knew her process of dying had begun; it was the day of transition from winter to spring and all the birds were singing their spring songs, and a song sparrow landed very near to us and sang for a while.
I could have gotten a better microphone too, but I will stop explaining and making excuses, and I hope you enjoy it. Watch the video below or click here to see the video on YouTube, “Things I Found in the Woods”.
“Things I Found in the Woods” recording © 2012 Bernadette E. Kazmarski
I read this poem as part of my 2008 annual poetry reading and art exhibit, “Winter Twilight”.
Read more poetry here on Today or visit my poetry page to see more about my poetry and other writing, and to purchase Paths I Have Walked.
Paths I Have Walked, collected poems.
I’m proud to offer a folio of my poetry
Paths I Have Walked: the poetry and art of Bernadette E. Kazmarski
FROM FOUR ANNUAL POETRY READINGS AT ANDREW CARNEGIE FREE LIBRARY & MUSIC HALL IN CARNEGIE, PA
People who attended one or more of my poetry readings encouraged me to publish some of my poetry in a book from the beginning.
Once I completed my 2010 poetry reading, my fourth featuring the final piece of artwork in the “Art of the Watershed” series, I decided it was time to publish something and it should be those four poetry readings.
Poetry books are not best-sellers; it’s difficult to convince a publisher to risk effort on a beginning poet, and while self-publishing is the best option it’s not inexpensive and once you’ve got the book, someone’s got to market it. Plus, I’m a graphic designer and I designed books for years, and I want things my way.
All of this is a recipe for a little bit of trouble, but I decided the book was well worth the effort so I designed the book myself and had a set printed—no ISBN or anything formal, but it’s a start! I’m really excited to offer it.
Books are 4.25″ x 11″, 40 pages of information and poetry, with glossy covers featuring “Dusk in the Woods” and little thumbnails of all four pieces in “Art of the Watershed”.
$8.00 each plus $2.50 shipping (they are oversized for mailing first class).
You can order one on my poetry page, or in my Marketplace.
About the books and the poetry readings
My biggest inspiration for poetry, prose and artwork is the world right around me, and I enjoy the opportunity to share it from the perspective of one who walks and hikes and bikes and carries a camera, art materials and journal everywhere—even around the house—so the inspirations are fresh.
In December, 2006, two of my poems were chosen to be published on a section of the Prairie Home Companion website entitled “Stories From Home/First Person” for submissions of writing about the place we feel most familiar. I’m a long-time listener to PHC and reader of Garrison Keillor’s books as well as a daily listener to The Writer’s Almanac featuring news about writers and writing and of interest to writers as well as a poem, all compiled and read by Keillor himself. I was astonished to find my poems were among the first chosen from apparently thousands, and so happy to be able to share them with a potential audience of so many similarly inclined writers and readers.
My poetry readings and art exhibits were the vision of Maggie Forbes, executive director of the Andrew Carnegie Free Library & Music Hall, after learning of my publishing of those two
poems. I owe her many thanks for encouraging me to present this combination of my visual and literary art, a first for me. I love that building, every inch of it, and the opportunity to bring people in to visit is an honor.
Surprise Snowfall
Surprise Snowfall
A little bit of a surprise snowfall began mid-afternoon today and fell heavily for about two hours; though it didn’t amount to too much, the big soft flakes falling straight and then at angles were lovely.
Hemlocks, Snowy Morning
Hemlocks, Snowy Morning, 7″ x 10″, pastel © B.E. Kazmarski
The view out my side window of my neighbor’s hemlock trees with the hills far beyond and the morning sky with clouds and sun and snow. In this sketch, I not only wanted to capture the sun streaming through the hemlock and the cool colors of a snowy morning, I also wanted to capture the nature of the hemlocks, their shape and growth habit, the straight trunks with the branches that tend to break easily, the bare little twigs inside the tree, and the tufts of needles at the ends of the branches. At one time there had been another hemlock that completely blocked the view, and the sun, hence the bare insides of these trees. I hate to see a tree go down but when that one was lost in a storm it literally opened up a new view for me, and much more sunlight.
Where this site has featured a daily photo, I’ve decided to also use it for my occasional sketches. At one time I always carried some art materials with me as well as my camera. I fell away from the sketches, mostly landscapes and Main Street and still lifes around the house, as life grew a little too busy for a while to take the 15 to 30 minutes needed for a little inspiration. As when I visited the Panhandle Trail on Christmas day, I hope to post more sketches in addition to the photographs from each day.
I did not photograph this scene, only drew it as I stood at the window, so you have no photo to compare.
You can purchase this sketch matted and framed in my Etsy shop or as a variety of print styles and sizes up to 48″ x 72″ on my Fine Art America profile.
I also post daily sketches of my cats on The Creative Cat as well as daily photos, which many people follow already; today Mr. Sunshine had something to say about this sketch in particular.
Night Falls
Night Falls
A slight break in the heavy overcast at dusk, a slight wind in the upper branches.
Wolf Moonrise
Wolf Moonrise
The winter sunset shades to deep pink in the east as the Wolf Moon rises over the hill, encircled by the branches of an oak tree.
The moon still looks a little hard-edged and flashed out, but at least I managed to get a little detail on it. Usually under these conditions the moon looks like a flashlight in the sky, just a hard bright circle, but it was moderated somewhat, perhaps by the branches in front of it.
And I finally caught that pink glow over the horizon fading to the faded turquoise of a winter sky in the east, opposite a sunset, on a clear, cold night.
. . . . . . .
Before I go on, I will add that I quickly shot this photo as I packed my camera equipment out of my car on my way to the paranormal investigation at Andrew Carnegie Free Library & Music Hall January 7, 2012. My family, especially my mother, had a strong tie to the place; in the houses you can see near the bottom of the photo, my mother was born and grew up in the one you can see the best, the yellow one.
. . . . . . .
A few months after I’d published this image, a conservation organization in California asked permission to use the image in their newsletter to accompany a poem by William Carlos Williams. Would I mind…
The Hills Conservation Network (HCN) of Oakland CA published one of my photos, “Wolf Moonrise”, in their latest newsletter.
The HCN was formed after the devastating 1991 East Bay Hills fire. In a state known for wildfires this was the worst one to date in 1991, killing 25 people and injuring 52 others, leaving some 10,000 people homeless by destroying 3,354 single-family homes and 456 apartment units. The group formed to help organize efforts in restoring the scarred land while preparing for other wildfires in a way that would mitigate future damage as much as possible.
They publish a quarterly newsletter, and in this case the Winter 2012 was “celebrating trees”. They would publish a poem by William Carlos Williams entitled Winter Trees and wanted my photo to illustrate.
No one has to twist my arm to have a photo published along with a poem by William Carlos Williams, and while I didn’t remember this particular poem once I read it I was in full agreement, especially at the lines: A liquid moon/moves gently among/the long branches.
I am also glad to help an organization whose mission I support, and those interested in carefully reforesting and restoring the land and preparing wisely for future actions.
Click here to read the newsletter; my photo and the poem are on page 3.
Click here to see the original entry for “Wolf Moonrise” on my daily image blog Today.
Closed for the Season: Songbird Nest
Closed for the Season
All the summer birds have flown, leaving their homes behind. Next year the couple who built this nest will return and refresh the materials, but for now it stands open to the elements, collecting snow and rain, some animal fur and perhaps its own down loosened and waving in the wind.
In walking along Chartiers Creek this day, I found at least a half-dozen nests of this type, usually only one per tree, and the trees were most often seated in the crook of sapling branches about 5 to 10 feet above the ground, growing at the top of the creek’s banks.
I wouldn’t guess which species of nest this might be, but it would be a songbird because it is small, cup-shaped and placed in a tree, and likely the bird would be a insect-eating bird because this area, in summer and fall, would be full of mosquitoes, gnats, moths, butterflies and other types of flying insects, day and night.
If you have an idea what type of bird the nest might belong to, please leave a comment.
Celebrating the Solstice
“Solstice”, pastel, 6″ x 6″ © B.E. Kazmarski
This painting is indeed from the Winter Solstice about a decade ago. As the sun began to set on a zero-degree day with a foot or more of snow the light was so beautiful that I took off in my car with my camera and art supplies. At the top of the hill the gentle pink and coral tones of the sunset melded with the blue of dusk on the field of unbroken snow at the old Christmas tree farm, one of my favorite spots. It was too cold to draw outside since I can’t wear gloves and would soon be dropping my pastels in the snow, so I positioned my car on a convenient side road and sketched this in my front seat. As it does sometimes, the sun seemed to hang in the trees just before it disappeared: solstice, “sun-stand-still”. It’s just a little thing, 6″ x 6″, one of my favorites, especially now that the place is gone to development. It became the inspiration for an exhibit I hosted in 2004, “Winter White”.
And this painting, which I’ve always loved so much, has a wonderful home with a friend who also loves it very much.
The Old Catalpa
The Old Catalpa
The deep angle of this brilliant sun as it illuminates the landscape bare of leaves can make the world we know look new and strange. This friendly streamside catalpa, normally covered with huge languid heart-shaped leaves reveals a somewhat human structure and a dense network of tiny branches looking vaguely gothic as the sunlight wraps itself around each twig. In the background is a footbridge and a limestone cliff wall. The colors in this photo are exactly as the camera recorded them, no manipulations at all.
Aliens Have Landed
We are Watching You
What is this? Are those eyes in wrinkled skin?
It’s funny when you take things out of context that a familiar item can appear to be something else entirely. And when the leaves fall from the trees and suddenly you see the eyes in the bark of the silver maple you’ve walked past every day.
Old Window Reflecting
Old Window Reflecting
Reflecting on the year quickly fading, perhaps, reflecting life as it is.
Reaching Sunset
Reaching Sunset
This was today’s sunset, not the gaudy one in Last Light of Day, but this explains why I was following it. All those little wisps of clouds became so dramatic, sunrays lifting here and there, it was quite the show.
The Last Light of Day
The Last Light of Day
Each headstone is touched by the last light of day.
One of the times I wish I had had my DSLR with me instead of the little pocket digital which really couldn’t handle the subtleties of this image. The sunset was not so garish and tropical-looking and the headstones had more detail, but you can imagine the peace and quiet in this scene. I was following the sunset as I drove around for errands, and saw this coming up on the road ahead of me, pulled over and got the best shot I could.
This is Chartiers Cemetery in East Carnegie, southwest of Pittsburgh. Established in 1863 during the Civil War as a public burial ground it tells many stories. In the center a slender white line is the flagpole; they lowered the flag shortly after I took this photo. Slightly to the right of that the tall slender gray figure is the monument to the Civil War dead, and around them the veterans’ section of the cemetery.
Twilight on the Trail
Twilight on the Trail
There is magic as the landscape becomes a velvety darkness beneath the bright sky on a clear autumn evening.
Birch Bark, 2011
Birch Bark
Now that the leaves have fallen I get a clear view of the bark on my river birch, lit by late afternoon sun.
Shadows and Light, 2011
Shadows and Light
Just the right amount of mist just after sunrise is enough to enhance the reds in the oaks and maples surrounding Andrew Carnegie Free Library & Music Hall. This is actually the view from one of the back windows of my house.
Moon and Oak, 2011
Moon and Oak
A hillside of oak trees is burnished by the late afternoon sun till it glows like copper, and the pale, nearly full moon rises above. To me the moon always looks translucent when it rises at this time of day, as if all the craters and darker areas on its surface are open, letting the sky shine through. The copper of the oaks and the aqua sky are such a beautiful combination.
Sunset With Twisted Trees
Sunset With Twisted Trees
Suddenly, the trees are bare. The framework of stark and wandering branches which had faithfully held the leaves since spring is revealed to be as interesting as the tree in full leaf.
Early winter sunsets are breathtaking.
Some Last Looks at Autumn: In the City, 2009
Just Yellow Leaves
We know autumn is stunning on the hills and along the trails; a walk in the autumn woods can wash my soul clean as new. But that exciting splash of color among square and stolid buildings, hiding in the shadows of narrow streets but touched but the afternoon sun—now that is a welcome sight, and just as likely to cleanse the soul of the press of people and work on city streets. These yellow trees, some hybrid magnolia, I believe, having seen them bloom in spring, are planted in a curving line in a sculpture court at the corner of Sixth and Penn Avenues in downtown Pittsburgh.
Under Yellow Trees
Here people actually get to enjoy sitting under lemon-colored trees, near a granite sculpture of an eye. Just before I took this photo, several people who had been sitting there got up and boarded a bus. Darn! They looked great under the trees.
Yellow Trees, Blue Buildings
I may like this one the best since the impact of the trees on the urban landscape is clear.
And here’s one more, not as dramatic in color, but both the trees and the sculpture help to break up the vertical lines and rectangles in Mellon Square Park, a little farther uptown.
Respite from Rectangles
