Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Look at these! Greg bought them for me on etsy.com from Vancouver based Savage Artworks. I love the meticulous attention to detail. The artist hand paints the wooden blanks with acrylics, then finishes with a coat of lacquer. I can't wait to receive them!
Folks are probably wondering what the obsession is with owls for me and my brother, so I will happily tell the story.
When we were kids, we used to play in a maroon barn situated in the weedy, jungle area of our property. My sister and I made the loft space overhead into our fort, complete with supplies, snacks and toys. We loved exploring the barn, as there were relics from the previous occupants, tiny bottles (we thought for magic potions) dusty books, doll parts and bits of costume jewelry. Our days were spent reading, pouring over ancient copies of 'Pack O' Fun' (an old craft magazine from the seventies, with the intriguing tagline of "turn trash into treasure!") and making little books from scrap paper and index cards. These books were our prized possessions, we drew pictures of fairies and unicorns, wrote stories and traded them with each other.
Late one afternoon, as we busily constructed a new book of lost treasure (complete with a map of our yard), my little brother asked what the 'whirring' sound was. We hadn't noticed it before, but then became aware of the low noise and decided to look for the source. We searched around the nooks, then climbed down to look near the floor, silent all the while. My sister thought it might be a squirrel, I thought it could be a sick cat, but my little brother was quiet, determined to find out for himself. Suddenly, as if the creature grew tired of being sought, began rustling its near soundless wings, and the movement drew our attention. There at the top, where the roof points upward, a great barn owl nestled on a shadowy beam and observed us with bright, wide eyes. It stared at our gaping faces for a moment, then flew off its nest in an elegant swoop right over our heads. We ran out to watch it disappear into the twilight, hoping to see more of the beautiful owl. We watched the sky for a long time, smiling and pleased - our little brother seemed the happiest, refusing to come in even after night fall. We never saw the owl again, but the sighting seemed to infuse us with the need to look for them wherever we went, or to draw pictures of them, as if our eyes would always long for a glimpse.
So, that is why I am obsessed with owls and birds and have loads of books on them. Our house sits high along a hill, so trees fill every window, blocking the view of the mountains, the shade preventing a garden. All so I can watch birds. I always carry binoculars and a bird guide, so I am prepared to document and draw. Well, we all have our quirks!
Posted by Cynthia Thornton at 11:01 AM