travel

Watercolor summer

Creative Living

Watercolors have always seemed to mysterious to me. I certainly used them often enough as a kid, but always felt like there was a secret I just never understood. I even took a watercolor painting class in college becasuse I was sure that a college professor would certainly tell me the long hidden secrets. But they just talked about them like paints and colors, and I left the class still feeling like I was missing something. I mean, they never turn out like I expected, but once in a while, I would make something that looked ethereal and otherworldly. And I had no idea how I had done it.

And so, as a parent, I pulled out the watercolors and played another with my kids. I suppose it was when I started using watercolor crayons that I felt like I had some semblance of control over where the colors when on the page. I added the color with the crayon, then manipulated the colors with water. That made sense. It obeyed the laws of gravity, too.

And now I have dipped my toe in again and it feels less mysterious and more playful. I don’t alwasy know how the color will move, but I have made peace with that and just like to watch it move on the page, or see if I can catch the colors of the trees by mixing in a little more blue, or maybe it’s purple?

Curious about upcycling an old eye shadow palatte into a travel watercolor kit? Read more here.

City thoughts

Stitching

Jim came home from a conference in Seville, Spain, and his stories & pictures got me thinking about historic urban spaces. The way that buildings were built first, and the space that was left over became the public space — the buildings defined the pathways between them. Cities that established a grid grew by defining the streets first — where the carriages, and then cars, would belong. The roadways defined the buildings between them.

I started stitching these little maps — a variation on my treasure maps — and also a throwback to my architecture classes in college. I got lost once I stitched some building footprints… what happens outside those buildings? What happens in the public space? These pieces are only asking questions right now, no answers yet.

I am thinking especially of a visit to Venice with my friend Julia in 2000. The pathways are so fascinating to wander – I could turn left and find a dead end, and I could turn right and find a tiny piazza with a cafe and a fountain.

And I had to revisit a favorite book: Courtyards by John S. Reynolds, because I had some of his drawings on my mind. And now I am left to wonder…

Under the Clouds

Stitching
Under the Clouds storycloth

I spent the last week in and around Glacier National Park in Montana. Spring mountain weather being what it is, there was a lot of rain on the western side of the mountains. We could see, very clearly, how the mountains caught the clouds and there they would sit until they had dropped enough rain to make it up and over the peaks. Cresting the Continental Divide, we would very quickly emerge from the clouds and into open blue skies. But where we sat, or hiked, on the West side was always covered by clouds. We could get glimpses of snowfields and rock faces, but then they would disappear again while another mountain peaked out.

All this sitting under the clouds got me a little gloomy. But then the summer solstice came. And I spent it under the clouds. Even through I knew it was the longest day of the year, it felt like the big skies of Montana were pressing down on us. And it seemed so mystical to me that the was a bright blue sky with hours and hours of sunlight up there, I just couldn’t see it right now. It raised me spirits and felt a lot like hope — knowing it was there was enough.

Green mountain side with waterfalls running down, ascending into clouds

I did a lot of stitching on the porch of our cabin, reflecting on the unseen sun and listening to the evening rain.

Vacations worth the sweat

Dirt Magazine, Family

When we commit a chunk of money to a vacation, we hope that we will come out of it with some good memories and awakened interests and family connection. I mean, it’s a lot of money. And a lot of work to plan, pack and carry out. So we want some return on our investment, right? We want to have fun, dammit!

But how? What’s fun for a grown man and also fun for a four-year-old?

Our vacation strategy was inspired by Dr. Brene Brown, author of The Gifts of Imperfect Parenting. She writes about her experience trying to find out what felt like “play” to everyone in her family — which can involve some detective work. Once Dr. Brown had her info, she drew Venn diagram to find the overlaps.

Taking a page from Brown’s book, we’ve tried to identify what is play for all of us, and where our play lists overlap. It’s not a big cross section. Our kids are fast and reckless in crowded museums, slow and aimless in wide open spaces. The list of group activities that satisfy me, my husband, a 4- and a 7-year-old is short. But that’s okay — helpful, even. We can fix those activities as the center of our vacation planning.

Beach-combing can keep all of us happy for a long while. When the little one loses interest, he can play in the water or dig or run or snack. Being in calm coves helps make it easier to trust him not to get knocked over by a wave, plus we all love finding a secret place out in the wilds. A warm day at the beach is so lovely, but we also spent a wet and cold week at the beach in the temperate rainforests of Washington State. Long underwear and rain gear for all. We spent that week hunting for agates, jasper and other rocks on the beaches, then warming up by the wood stove while we sorted all the treasures. And washed the treasures and polished the treasures and read about the treasures…

I have also realized that I need to separate being out in nature from hiking. Hiking with kids kind of makes me miserable. I feel stuck in the slow lane while I just want to move forward. And something about trails makes kid’s shoes turn to iron weights. Three steps in and they are tired. So, we aim to find a place where we all want to linger — a mountain stream is my favorite. The kids play in the water, and my husband and I are happy to join in for a bit. Then we can read, picnic, whittle, talk or just lie on warm rocks.

Also on our short list of fun-for-all activities is buffets (specifically breakfast or an Indian buffet) since everyone gets exactly what they want and the feel of abundance is a balm to the limits and constant compromise that come with travel. You want to eat a bowl of strawberries for breakfast? Go ahead, kid.

For a midwinter weekend getaway, we have a three-year-and-counting family tradition of going to a suite hotel upstate with an indoor pool, large breakfast buffet, and evening cocktail and snack hour. We eat junk food, watch TV and leave the hotel once a day to take a walk. We indulge and lounge and play and rest. It’s not exotic or expensive (off-season rates!), but it does feel decadent – for everyone.

Originally published in Dirt Magazine, Jan/Feb 2019. Updated May 2019

Geology lesson, up close and personal.

Artists on the Move

Dirt Magazine, Family
The rocks of Joshua Tree, as interpreted by a 35-year-old and a 4-year-old.

On our family trip this year we ventured out into the desert for a week of hiking amidst giant boulders and jackrabbits. My husband and I backpacked in Joshua Tree National Park almost a dozen years ago, hauling our water, hiking to abandoned mines, enjoying the quiet vastness of the Pinto Basin. So we decided to go back with our 4 and almost-7-year-old.

Yeah, the second trip was nothing like the first.

We’d hike in the morning, hide out at the hotel during the heat of the day, then bring a picnic dinner into the park. There was whining, for sure. My younger kid would wake up at 6 a.m. with loads of energy and volume, but as soon as he set foot on the trail he would beg to be carried.

But we were prepared. We had read stories about desert animals, geology and artists. We had animal and plant ID pamphlets, and a Junior Ranger activity book. And I had a travel painting kit tucked into my pack.

I packed a set of Staedtler Watercolor Crayons, Strathmor Watercolor Postcards, a handful of paint brushes, and two little plastic pans for water (jar lids or bottle caps would easily do the job). I carried them in a small zipper bag and tossed it in our backpack when we went hiking. With watercolor crayons, you can draw out the shapes with the crayons, then go over it with a wet brush to spread the colors and blend them, and you can even try brushing water on the blank page and then drawing with the crayons over that. We don’t paint a lot at home (what can I say, paint plus toddlers is overwhelming) so this was all kind of new, but low pressure.

I wanted to have a quiet activity for when we needed a rest, but an activity that kept us in the moment and outside. My kids are never silent, but at least we could sit together while we talked about the color of the sky or which rock was their favorite.

The most meaningful and satisfying family vacations we have had are ones in which we found a way to stay engaged with the place we were visiting. By learning about the history of a place, learning about unique rocks or animals that we might see, we get to do more than just see a place, but examine it, be immersed in it. I don’t want to pay thousands of dollars just to get out of the car, snap a selfie, and drive on.

I am going to bring my watercolor kit on hikes or outings this fall, and see if the magic will work again. If painting in the desert was fun, with all its many browns, imagine how thrilling it will be to paint all the colors of a Hudson Valley autumn?

Originally published in Dirt Magazine, July/Aug 2018