HEART'S DESIRE ~ A WOOD OF MY OWN

I always like to change things in my paintings as I paint and return to them often. Looking at the painting in a different light of day helps me see things I might have missed the day before. I wasn't sure about leaving the trunks without their leaves needles. When I finally decided to add the needles to the trees, I was happy I did. 

A pine stand in the woods is always fragrant and delightful. 

HEART'S DESIRE ~ A WOOD OF MY OWN

~Anna 2024

March 




by William Cullen Bryant




The stormy March is come at last,

With wind, and cloud, and changing skies;

I hear the rushing of the blast,

That through the snowy valley flies.




Ah, passing few are they who speak,

Wild stormy month! in praise of thee;

Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,

Thou art a welcome month to me.

NIGHT DREAM SERIES ~ HEART'S DESIRE ~ A WOOD OF MY OWN

There is nothing wrong with dreaming a wish your heart makes. 

My heart's desire ~ own a woodland.

Heart's Desire ~ A Wood of My Own ~ Anna 2024

Inspired by the book I was reading, 'The Hidden Life of Trees', and my dreamscape, I wanted to paint another woodland. 

I began the painting with tall trees and a path. A hidden spring rushed from behind the tall branchless trees down to a velvet green meadow where violets secretly were beginning to bloom in early March. Hearts followed me with every brush stroke, popping up in the most unexpected places. Even when I took my blood sugar this morning, one flowed out of my finger in a heart. And the angel #4, well, that too magically appeared only I extended the cross line.

Illuminated by a starry night sky, the woods show their secret hearts in Spring.

Happy Saint Patty's Day 🍀🍀🍀🍀

Happy Saint Patty's Day 🍀🍀🍀🍀

Happy Saint Patty's Day 🍀🍀🍀🍀

 Happy Saint Patty's Day 🍀🍀🍀🍀

LOVELY ARE THE WOODS IN SPRING ~ THE HIDEOUT

 LOVELY ARE THE WOODS IN SPRING ~ THE HIDEOUT
One month is past, another is begun,
Since merry bells rang out the dying year,
And buds of rarest green began to peer,
As if impatient for a warmer sun;
And though the distant hills are bleak and dun,
The virgin snowdrop, like a lambent fire,
Pierces the cold earth with it's green-streaked spire
And in dark woods, the wandering little one
May find a primrose. Hartley Coleridge
I believe I'm done. 

 

 

 

 

THE HIDEOUT

The woods, a place from another dimension; in my subconscious mind, the dream-like forest has come to life in my landscape. A wood beyond the world. A hiding place to seek refuge, a sanctuary amongst old friends where one little bird can call his safe place. 

Sorry for the bad photo. Will retake later.




The Hideout ~ Anna 2024