claudia diller: Sandsifters

claudia diller: Sandsifters: I was strolling the the walkway that wraps around the Eastern Prom and along the East End beach the other day when I caught these girls m...

Sandsifters

I was strolling the the walkway that wraps around the Eastern Prom and along the East End beach the other day when I caught these girls messing around in the sand. The dog wasn't theirs - it had just paused for a few seconds.  It belonged to an older gentleman who had walked by. It got me thinking about how very special it is having a beach like this so close to all of us city kids  - we can walk to it from anywhere on and over the Hill.

The Prom park and beach reminds me of accounts I've read describing the heat waves that hit NYC in the old pre-air-conditioning-for-the-masses days when thousands of immigrants would escape the stifling lack of air in their apartments and fire escapes and jump into the river to cool off. They would then eat their packed dinners and sleep in the adjoining parks all night. Although we're not legally allowed to sleep in the parks here or anywhere else anymore, we can still have our picnic dinners, and we do up here on the east end.

A neighbor who grew up on the Hill told me the East End beach used to be very polluted. No one swam at the beach, she said, everyone swam in a pool that used to be where the lower parking lot now is. The bathroom facilities that are there now were there then too.

The beach is no longer polluted and the state monitors the water to keep it safe. Earlier this past spring about a dozen divers scoured the floor off the shore of the beach looking for trash. They found glass, plastic, metal, old moorings and old lobster traps.

The divers also found a bunch of tennis and golf balls out there. Hmmm - I wonder where they came from? Kids who don't have a summer job may want to think about investing in a beach chair and sign offering fetch services for pet owners who overthrow their pet's fetch toys. It happens a lot more often than you think, and 99 percent of the time the kids swimming off the breakwater end up fetching the toys anyway.

Sandsifters • 8" x 8" acrylic framed to 12" x 12" • $200

That Bright White Summer Full Moon

Sometimes the moon and moonlight is so big and so bright that it could be mistaken for daylight if I didn't logically know better. We'll land ourselves a full moon once in a while out sailing - it's magical. I leave the tent flap open on my side for as long as I can to observe our surroundings. It's fascinating and mysterious and all kinds of things move around and make noise in the night. Owls are always the most special. Anchored off the tip of Peter Island in the Damariscotta one night we heard an owl having a hootenanny with his or her buddy at the other end.

As I write this I am reminded of another recent full moon night. It was the Supermoon or "the perigee-syzygy of the Earth-Moon-Sun system,” that occurred this past March. I was heading south through Carrabassett Valley along the river on my way home from a BBQ and growing more and more irritated by the car coming toward me that wasn't dimming it's lights. At some point I realized it wasn't the car lights that were bothering me, but the blasted moon. I was driving right at the rising moon and the light was broadcasting so brightly, it was like having one huge headlight in my face.

As it turned out, and as all of you already know, that moon was 14 percent bigger and 30 percent brighter than when it is on the far side of its elliptical orbit around the Earth. On that night, the Supermoon was just 221,802 miles away from Earth with the entirety of its Earth-facing surface illuminated by the light of the sun - all happening at about the same time.

The event was very cool, but unlike most folks who undoubtedly had a spiritually cosmic experience - as I would have liked to have had - I will probably always remember it as just a big headlight in my face.

That Bright White Moonlight • 8" x 8" watercolor framed to 12" x 12" • $200

Bedlam in Birdland

Oh my goodness - the mornings around here have been bedlam. What is going on with the birds? They make the most astounding racket all morning long starting at dawn. They babble, clamor, caw, call, chirp, twit, cry, drum, squawk, tweet and twerp. There is a cacophony of chatter, clatter, clicking, rustling and fussing around in what sounds like general pandemonium out there in the trees.

So why have they been so noisy all spring? Because they've been trying to attract mates and, at this point, are probably defending their nests and territory. Suddenly it all makes sense. Don't we humans act like total idiots when we're either ridiculously and irrationally in love or at a senseless border war with one another?

In time, thankfully and mercifully, there comes July when most baby birds have fledged and their parents are too busy feeding and teaching them how to survive to be hanging out singing and preening. In fact, those species that raise only one family a year may stop singing altogether. Others have a brief resumption of song to help teach their young ones the local dialect. Eventually however, and one by one, each species drops out of the spring chorus altogether until by late July only a handful of birds are still singing at all.

As much as I adore my fine feathered neighbors and look forward to hearing them every morning - they are after all, the harbingers of my favorite time of the year - it will be those attractive, alien-like, green foam earplugs for me until the end of July.

Bedlam in Birdland • 8" x 8" pen and ink framed to 12" x 12" • $200

Fog on the Bay

I was out walking the Eastern Prom the other day watching the fog roll in and out and over the islands. It was a tranquil scene - the sun was setting, the wind had died. There was a blue haze and absolute quiet. I watched a determined sailor make his way slowly across the water in hopes of finding a finger of a breeze, inhaled deeply and just as I was about to exhale into total relaxation, I stopped short and held my breath. The mast of a large vessel - an old, old ship was ghosting in and out of the fog beyond the farthest island. I allowed my breath to leave me in a controlled whisper. Slowly making its way toward land, toward Portland, toward me was a vessel that defied reason. It's flag - a menacing Jolly Roger!

I cupped my hands around my mouth and screamed, waving to the unsuspecting sailor to come about and head for shore as I pointed out over his shoulder to the ship that loomed closer and darker. A fear enveloped me and pulled me into a full on gallop up the hill. "Pirates, pirates," I gasped to all I encountered as I ran for my life...

I like playing this game occasionally - it adds an element of intrigue and fear to an otherwise beautiful but uneventful landscape. I've been a total bore lately and needed to reinvent myself for a few minutes.

Eventually, I painted the "beautiful" scene that day and then searched the internet to see if there ever were, in fact, pirates in Casco Bay. I was also curious about how the Jolly Roger came into being. This is what I found:

Pirates in Casco Bay: http://www.someoldnews.com/?p=1351

Origin of the Jolly Roger: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jolly_Roger

Fog in the Bay • 8" x 8" acrylic on paper framed to 12" x 12" • $200

Spring Break

Just finished all of my paintings for the 2013 Peaceful Places calendar. Whew! So I'm taking a little break to do some quick pen and inks. Haven't done one for a long time - thought I'd just mess around a bit first.

I finished this but then decided to color it after all. Must be the spring thing - too much color out there to ignore.

Spring Break • 8" x 8" pen and ink and watercolor framed to 12" x 12" • $200

Crows in the Field

Doing this blog gives me a great excuse to spend a little time cruising the info highway for "research."

Take this past weekend. I was in an indefinite rain delay and spent some time watching a couple of crows pecking around in the lower field up in Kingfield. This is not a great sign because it means we have grubs. I couldn't bring myself to think about grubs, so I focused on the crows and researched them on the internet.

There is a lot of info out there about crows, and we all know how smart they are, but I found this story touching and uplifting. I think it offsets the downpour we're having here in Maine nicely.

http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1112335/crow_and_kitten_are_friends/


Crows in the Field • 12" x 12" acrylic on birch panel • $200