Tuesday, December 26, 2023
icing on the Christmas cake
Wednesday, November 29, 2023
Christian is going full gallery
Friday, November 3, 2023
coming up
Sunday, October 15, 2023
oblique intent
Wednesday, September 20, 2023
Hero of a sort
'Low Tide, Padilla Bay' 10x10" oil on panel; Kathleen Faulkner |
I have watched the ebb and flow of Padilla Bay for 32 years.
I once worked an oil spill there. At the time, I wondered if the bay would ever recover.
It did. It took years.
In the end, Mother Nature cleaned things up.
Padilla Bay is known for its immense eelgrass meadow.
Some scientists suggest these meadows sequester atmospheric carbon.
Up to 80% of fish species and marine invertebrates
use eelgrass during some part of their life cycle.
It is a place of magic. It keeps me hopeful.
Saturday, August 26, 2023
cure-all
Thursday, July 27, 2023
It's a good spot
Saturday, July 15, 2023
On Display
Sunday, June 25, 2023
We are in it.
Wednesday, June 21, 2023
I spy
Monday, June 5, 2023
giving is good
Saturday, May 20, 2023
a bedtime story
Friday, April 28, 2023
greenness
'101' 24x24" oil pastel; Kathleen Faulkner
I spent some time on the Oregon coast recently.
It rained the whole time.
I remember the dark, rainy days when I lived there.
So much rain that moss would grow
on the sidewalks,
becoming a soft blanket of green.
I would imagine myself wrapped in it.
Friday, April 14, 2023
'The View From Here'
Monday, March 27, 2023
Line of sight
Monday, March 20, 2023
west coast treasure
Saturday, February 4, 2023
Life on Earth
'A Precarious Situation' 18x18" oil pastel; Kathleen Faulkner
It is always a challenge
living on the edge.
The good news is that
sometimes,
when you least expect it,
wonderful things happen.
So, in the end,
this life really is a delicate balance.
Wednesday, January 25, 2023
Mountain talk
'Kwelshán', Early Morning' 10x12" oil pastel on paper;
Kathleen Faulkner
This has been my home for 32 years.
I have always had a view of the mountain.
I keep track of the weather by its look
and the seasons by its snow cover.
Developers showed up recently
and took two thirds of my view.
Now the neighbor's oak trees have taken that last bit.
The good news is that
this beautiful mountain,
called Kwelshán by the Lummi, is still there
and I can see it when I step outside my front door.