I am using red sumi ink, ultramarine blue and permanent white gouache for this lunar cycle of drawings. The sumi ink tones the paper the same orange/pink color I see in the light. This color is being reflected from the tall, flowering grasses that grow near the place where I draw.

The birds began to sing at 4:50 this morning. Out of the grayness the light came up at 5:10 AM. The light is pinkish orange. It is especially vivid in the grasses beyond the bottle. By 5:45 AM the light is yellow.

7/20/00

5:14 AM PDT

52 degrees

still

thick cloud cover,

haze and light fog in

the hills to the west,

cold, damp, heavy air,

faint bird song

9:24 PM PDT

58 degrees

still

clear sky, calm twilight, distant

bird song, night birds making

their ruffled calls, resting

shadows

The swallows have been edgy for the last two weeks. I have been watching for signs of new life, and this afternoon one of the adults swooped down and nipped my ankle as I was walking down the driveway. I listened to that gesture because the bird was willing to be so vulnerable. Lately the chirping sounds from their nesting house, and the coming and going pace of the adults had quickened. This morning a look through the binoculars revealed 3 babies with large mouths at the circular door waiting for food. Their mouths have a yellow edge, and are an even deeper yellow when they open. The shape of their open mouths is circle with two tiny triangles on each side that they must grow into.

The night bird with the ruffled, rolling call spits out a soft quick sound as I return to the house after dusk.

5:22 AM PDT

56 degrees

light breeze

cool, damp, sensuous air,

heavy cloud cover in the

west, scattered in the east,

bird song upstaged by

crows leaving their roost

9:10 PM PDT

60 degrees

still

a band of scattered clouds

over hills to the west, but

otherwise clear, bright

twilight sky, bird song ending

It is a restful, gentle falling

light. It is so quiet my pencil

moving over the page is loud.

Two dogs howl.

The birds began at 5:07 AM. It was a melancholy dawn with humid, sweet air. It is the kind of air that makes me want to run away from home. Last night I had my first dream of painting the bottle.

5:23 AM PDT

56 degrees

cloudy, bird song, noisy

crows

The grass smells dusty and moist.

9:05 PM PDT

68 degrees

still

bird song, clear sky, dry

transparent air. This will be a long twilight.

Summer light is clear and hot. Evergreen, bleached yellows, brilliant yellows, violet, white of flowers, and weeds. It is invasive and pushes down from above. Separating light and heat is difficult on a hot day like today. They both pour in and demand attention. The cooler temperatures at dawn and dusk help me focus on the light.

5:25 AM PDT

60 degrees

still

dense fog all around, moist

thick air, muted bird song,

loud crows, a few howls from

the coyotes, air filled with the

perfume of wet grass

9:05 PM PDT

70 degrees

still

bird song fragments in the

distance, cool, semi-moist

air, clear sky, picture post

card sunset, a hot day, dog

barks in the distance

There is a noticeable decrease in the volume, variety, and texture of bird song. It is quieter at dawn and dusk. Their songs are softer and more distant.

I miss the bird song. I'm lonely. The dawn seems to come on more slowly, and the dusk falls faster.

August 1 is the Celtic festifval Lammas Day. It is a day of celebrating the wheat harvest and acknowledging that summer is passing and winter is on its way.

There are changes in the swallow houses. The babies brown, sweaty, bulb shaped heads are filled out and covered with silver, green, and blue tightly slicked down feathers. They are no longer just a yellow mouth. Their bodies are half way out of the entrance to get the bugs their parents bring them, and in between feedings they are curiously looking around. I shooed away the crows and blue jays that wait like vultures for any false moves. The babies are right on the edge of flight.

On my morning walk I felt fall. Was this moment brief because I turned away? The air was moist, but the grayish, slightly condensed light was the real indicator.

The swallow family was gone this morning. The entrance was dark, and the silence is sobering. I missed the fledglings first flight. The swallows are the first to arrive in the spring, and the first to leave in August. Their departure, the cool air, condensed light, and the sound of the leaves rubbing together are signs of fall approaching.

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8/7/00

5:36 AM PDT

60 degrees

still

heavy cloud cover, patches

of light fog in the west hills,

scant bird song, owl hooting, clear,

cool, air

8:55 PM PDT

60 degrees

still

clear sky, no bird song, cool,

transparent air, half moon up