Tag: Piscataway Park

Thank You For the Berries

It was in Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, Braiding Sweetgrass, that I first became aware of the Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address still given by Native Americans. The address gives thanks for many worthy things, but the one that sticks with me is “thank you for the berries.” We’ve had a great year for the berries here and were able to gather mulberries for multiple pies, muffins and even mulberry ketchup. Yesterday I gathered many cups of red wineberries, which together with blueberries I hope to make into a patriotic 4th of July pie. On this morning’s walk, I saw blackberries starting to come in. Yes, there are a lot of berries to be thankful for!
The painting is of an especially memorable evening when grandkids and I discovered some mulberries growing right at the river’s edge.

Evening by the River

I can’t believe that in my pandemic year of taking two daily walks – mostly down by the Potomac River in Piscataway Park – I only now have realized that it can be a lot more dramatic if you go late. Maybe the fact that that park closes at dusk has something to do with that. But if you park outside the gate, you will not get locked in. I took a great photo in the evening hour that I thought would make a good painting so I did it. This is the first time I looked at my notes since the cloud painting workshop I took from Sara Linda Poly just before the pandemic,  so I referred back to them and tried to do something like we learned in the class.

My niece informs me that “Golden Hour” is a thing, and it is now a fad to do selfies in Golden Hour too!

Lona

Path by the River

“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there someday.” – A. A. Milne

I guess our main challenge in these days of pandemic is staying safe. But we seem to be equally challenged with keeping it interesting – despite the restrictions. This is where I am really grateful for all the Potomac River access paths we have in Piscataway Park, which I’ve taken to walking on a mostly daily basis. I’ve found it a little difficult to paint during this period, but after meeting with my art group I was inspired to haul my paints along on a walk and paint one of my favorite spots down by the river.

-Lona

Plein Air

So I have been painting more. My successful artist friend says he paints every single day! His work is quite beautiful so I presume a side benefit is ‘practice makes perfect’, but I’m afraid right now I’m motivated because it gives me something enjoyable to do. I like being outside and I like walking my dog. So my methodology is often to walk the dog while carrying my travel easel and to pause when I see something interesting to paint and then paint it. There is some necessity to work fast because the light will change too much if you don’t. That works for my dog. There is a special term in French for this painting outside activity: Plein Air. This landscape of a farm road was painted earlier this week.

Landscape Painting at Marshall Hall

I have a lot of memories Piscataway Park’s Marshall Hall site, former site of an amusement park and Southern Maryland gambling mecca, and also the current site of burned out historical mansion. I remember going there as a child in the amusement park days and once accidently wandering into a slot machine building where no one under sixteen was allowed. My husband worked the toy helicopters there as a teenager so that may have been our real first meeting, although I don’t actually remember riding the toy helicopters. I liked the mini-roller coaster better. My son was married there in an outdoor winter wedding where it was only about 10 degrees F outside. My late mother-in-law was born there in a long-gone house where she remembered as a baby sleeping in a room with snow blowing in through the cracks in the siding. There are still old amusement park rides rusting in the woods. I got the chromium for my element collection from an old rusting truck where the chrome trim was practically the only thing left. I remember riding my bike down to the site in 1981, when the mansion caught fire, with baby Piri in the rear bike seat, arriving in time to watch it smolder.

There is now a rutted old dirt road remaining that winds past the Marshall family cemetery and really doesn’t go anywhere. At the end of this road, I painted the scene of some trees overlooking the Potomac.