Sky Friday - Colorado skies

It is now only four days before we depart from the east coast begin our 2248 mile trip to our final destination of Durango, CO.   To say that I am excited is a bit of an understatement; we have been planning this move for 4 years.  I leave behind some wonderful friends I made through my two jobs, and they are what I will miss about living here.

Given our impending move, a Colorado-based Sky Friday seemed apropos.  Last year, Wayne and I spent almost a week there, and of course, I came away with hundreds of photos.  These photos are as much about the sky as the land...what can I say?

On August 2, we took a day-long drive encompassing highways 550, 62, 145 and 160.  The loop offers some of the most spectacular scenery in the state.  It passes through several scenic mountain towns, then drops down into a valley, passing through the towns of Dolores and Mancos, and then back east through Hesperus before returning to Durango.

Monsoon season was in full swing during our trip last year.  As we started our drive late that morning, dark rainclouds were forming over the San Juans (a sub-range of the Rockies), chilling the high mountain air and adding drama to the land.  As is typical of such storms, they seldom last, and rain is often confined to a small geographical area.  We expected to drive through a downpour, but it only sprinkled along the pass south of Silverton.

Near Telluride

After heading north as far as Ridgeway on 550, our route took us southwest, along Hwy 62, which eventually terminated on Hwy 145.  Telluride is  a mere 2 miles to the east off the highway, so it's a must-see.  A stop for gas just outside of town was situated near a glorious field, filled with summer grasses, yarrow, and other wildflowers.  A row of cottonwoods, flanked by the receding mountains offered a splendid view.  

Virga over Yellow Mountain

Continuing south along Hwy 145, we climbed up towards Lizard Head Pass.  Beautiful clouds were forming to the east over Yellow Mountain in the distance and a beautiful, sweeping alpine meadow right off the  road.  Following the small river valley formed by the Dolores River, the highway continues through the small mining town of Rico.  Stands of aspen, with their brilliant green foliage and smooth white bark,  are interspersed amongst the conifers and hardwood on the mountainsides.  

Cumulus over Mesa Verde 

Eventually, the view opens up and the mountains give way to mesas which eventually taper down to a plateau and the town of Dolores.  Heading east from Dolores, the land opens up and scattered ranches and farms are seen.  Due south of this area, is Mesa Verde, home to the famous cliff dwelling ruins of the Anasazi.  

Back towards Dolores

The next day, we decided to drive back up Hwy 550 towards Silverton, to do a hike starting from Crater Lake.  At 11,000', it's a decidedly alpine climate and biotic zone.  Wildflowers were in full bloom, and we were treated to yet more beautiful monsoon clouds.  Amazingly, we managed to avoid getting caught in a downpour, although it seemed dicey at times.

Monsoon clouds over Coal Bank Hill

Forming clouds from Crater Lake trail

This trip was a reminder about priorities, lifestyle and location, and how the southwestern part of Colorado is idyllic in all of these criteria, and more.  

Summer Field

A minor departure from the ocean/reflections theme here, although there will be another to post tomorrow.

This is from the monthly Spotlight Challenge on WC's pastel forum.  The subject for July is "trees", and I chose an image taken by the challenge host, Paula Ford, of a field in her state of TN.  I was drawn to its simple shapes and strong values.  

It's on the home-made surface of 140# watercolor paper and Golden fine pumice ground, untinted.  In lieu of that, I used an alcohol wash underpainting.  I was aiming for a more golden color, as shown in the underpainting, but it didn't work out that way.  This would be a reference that would lend itself to a series of paintings, actually....

"Summer Field"

11x15"

sold

underpainting

Oceanscape with Cloud

Here is the second in the informal series of oceanscapes and clouds.  It's loosely based on a photo I took a few weeks ago on a hot, humid afternoon.  Often, under those conditions, stratus clouds (low-level) will often form right off the ocean, producing an amorphous cloud that has no discernible origin.  Fog, a type of stratus cloud, is probably the best example of this phenomenon.

For this painting, my goals were to:  1) experiment with color; 2) experiment with lost and found edges; 3) simplify the design and abstract it a bit.

First thing I did was to abandon local color; several of the artists whose blogs I follow are very good at this, and it's something I often struggle with.  I chose some warm grays for the cloud - yellows, peaches and pinks.  The blues I originally chose for the sky were a bit too bright, resulting in a discordant effect.   Color harmony is simple when working in oils with a limited palette, but is often a bit more of a challenge with pastels, particularly when working with multiple brands.  For this, I relied primarily on my Unison and MV grays.  A few Senneliers were used as well.

Surface was Mi-Tientes, white, smooth side.  Normally, I prefer to work on a darker surface, with black being my favorite.  After laying down the initial layers as blocked-in colors, I finger blended them to essentially form the underpainting and cover the paper surface.  I was able to successfully scumble a few more layers on top to produce optical blending.

Second goal was to try and reproduce the discreet and disappearing edges of the cloud.  After applying the initial layers, I tried to rely on scumbling rather than finger blending to achieve this effect along the sides and bottom of the cloud.   Looking at the photo, I see where I could have done that a bit more along the left edge of the paper.

Simplifying this was just a matter of removing a bunch of boats and the distal landmass of Fisher's Island (part of NY state).  I pulled colors from the clouds into both the sky and the ocean to harmonize the palette and to gray down the original sky.  I feel that was somewhat successful.

Probably most important to me, however, is that this painting was just *fun* to do.  No struggles - just a good flow.  No futzing or tinkering - just purposeful placement of the pastel.

"Oceanscape with Cloud"

9x12" Mi-Tientes

Bay Reflections

After a few days of no painting, I finally sat down in my studio this evening and did something.  My last attempt at painting was nothing but an exercise in frustration, and I'm not sure why I couldn't make it work, but it just wasn't happening.  It's not so much that I care that the painting didn't turn out, but my analytical mind wants to know why.   have been missing my clouds and still haven't lost interest in the reflections.  I went through my reference library and re-examined some of my ocean photos, and pulled a selection to work from.

Here is the first - sparkling late afternoon sunlight reflecting off of Little Narragansett Bay in RI.   Much simplified from the reference photo.  Done in less than 30 min.

"Bay Reflections"

5.5"x 8.5" - 320# sanded paper

Sky Friday - March 1 sunset

Boy - a week has already gone by without me posting.   The wiltingly hot and humid weather we've been having here this week has put a damper on my desire to paint in the studio room, which has no a/c, and my latest painting...is not working.

So, in lieu of posting failed paintings, I'll stick with more successful photos.

Today's post was one of the dedicated sunset shoots I went on, in late winter.   The sky looked promising early on, so instead of being limited to snapshots of pretty clouds from the confines of the Jonquil's courtyard, I hit the road.  Back in late December, I'd discovered a dirt road by the name Misty Ray, that was off Hwy 90 towards Sierra Vista.  I've taken other photos along that same road, and being situated in a basin, it offers 360 degrees of mountain views.  Glorious.

The sunset wasn't one of those high-drama types, as the clouds were primarily some high-level bands of cirrus and some mid-level altocumulus, which are variable as far as potential for intense color production.  Nonetheless, the skies did not disappoint.  Some of these photos actually remind me of paintings.

Early evening 

An altocumulus cloud, seen over San Jose Peak, shows off the muted tones and warm grays of the setting sun in this view to the south.  Cirrus clouds form an amorphous layer in the upper sky, adding a sense of depth.

Cloud line to the north

These scattered groups of altocumulus form a sweep across the sky, their varying colors giving 

an indication of the location of the sun.

Contrasts

A small cluster of altocumulus offers colors and sharp edges against the muted bands of the cirrus clouds over the northern part of the Huachucas.

A pastel sky

Rosy pinks and pale mauve-grays fill the sky in this view to the northwest.  The Whetstones make up the distal range on the left side of the photo.

Final light over the Huachucas

Cirrus clouds peak in their color against the silhouetted forms of the snow-covered Huachucas.

Sky Friday - from the archives

Nothing photo-worthy happening in the skies here lately, so I've gone back into the archives for material from this past winter, of which there was plenty.

These photos - taken almost 6 months ago to the day - were from a hike I took off Hwy 80, about 10-15 miles south of Tombstone.  The area is sparsely populated, with a few scattered homes out at the end of various non-descript dirt roads.  I drove out one, towards the base of some hills with exposed rock strata, intending to hike and scramble up.  Monkey came along with me.

The skies were offering a menacing potential for rain, but none came.  Even being the middle of winter, it wasn't particularly cold or windy - a fleece pullover was all I needed.

I am a big fan of the early 20th century western artist Maynard Dixon.  For those not familiar with his work, he was the master at expressing the southwestern landscape via his use of color and form, and distilling it to the bare minimum.  His skies and cloudscapes are incomparable, and are so associated with his work that people frequently use the term "Maynard Dixon skies" when describing a beautiful sky in the southwest.

These are examples of what I consider "Maynard Dixon skies":  dramatic, sweeping clouds playing center stage with the land as an accompaniment.   On a hot summer day when the humidity is creeping up, these are a reprieve.

South towards the Mule Mtns.  

Afternoon sun casts dramatic shadows on these hills under the colorful clouds.  The Mule Mtns. are in shadow in the center.   Focal length:  42mm.

Stratocumulus 

The clouds clearly dominate in this 18mm shot taken from the same vantage point as above.

Crepescular rays over the Huachucas

Discreet rays of sun - "God rays" - break through the clouds to illuminate Sierra Vista.

Another 18mm shot; view is to the west.

Winter over the Mustang and Whetstone ranges

Clouds in the far horizon add to the sense of scale in this view that is to the northwest.  A good example of the basin and range topography of southern AZ.  Focal length = 55mm.

Dragonflies and Damselflies - oh my!

I had originally planned to work in my studio yesterday and experiment more with the sanded watercolor paper sheets I'd done.  However, there was finally a break in the humidity for the next few days, which meant it was too nice to stay inside.  So, I decided to head out with the camera for a while, and that ended up being how I spent much of the afternoon.

It started out as a simple walk across the street to shoot photos of the neighbor's garden; her yard blooms from mid-spring through late summer as wave after wave of colorful blooms from bulbs, shrubs and annuals hit their peak.  The flowers attract lots of insects - mostly a variety of bees and other pollinators - but today, a dragonfly was also flitting around, which was exciting to me.

Why?  Because they are hands-down my favorite insects, and amazing on so many levels.  The dragonfly order, Odonata, - consisting of dragonflies and damselflies - is old:  300 million years they have been on earth, making them truly living fossils.   Their freakishly cool, colorful and delicate appearance belies the fact that they are voracious eating machines...of mosquitos!  Both the adults and naiads eat mosquitos and larvae.  Seriously - does it get any better than that?  During the late Carboniferous period characterized by an oxygen-rich atmosphere and abundant wet forests, they were in sizes fitting for a Steven King horror novel.  Now, they're seldom more than a few inches in length.

They are also notoriously difficult to photograph, as they seldom sit still for long and are shy.  I managed some photos last year, but nothing that great, since I just wasn't able to get very close to them.  The telephoto lens changes that.  All these are shot at 200mm.  

Common Baskettail (Epithea cynosura)

Landing atop a spent flower head, he sat long enough for me to get three shots, hand-held.

One thing I've noticed about dragonflies and damselflies is that they frequently fly off and return to the same spot.  So, patience and luck allowed me to get these photos.  For identification, I'm relying on an Audubon Field Guide, and since there are more than 170 species in New England alone, a couple could be mis-identified.   After getting photos of the first one, above, I took a stroll down to a creek that runs near our house.  What I really wanted was to get some reflection photos and more floral shots.  

Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis)

What I discovered is that the sunny, open side of the creek was buzzing with activity; there were several of my favorite species - the Ebony Jewelwing damselfly - as well as some dragonflies.  I sat and watched and waited, and was rewarded with many amazing photos and fascinating observations.  The blue dasher sat resting on this stem of grass for most of my stay.  When he flew off, he returned to the same spot.  He would periodically change the position of his wings while resting.  Why?  I'm sure an entomologist would know.   In this photo, his wings are a bit blurry, as this photo was taken a fraction of a second before he flew off; in fact, his feet are actually not touching the grass.  

Ebony Jewelwing female (Calopteryx maculata)

Hand-held.  I sat and waited until she spread her wings briefly; normally, damselflies normally hold their wings closed and upright.

Ebony jewelwings used to inhabit our garden, and 2 years ago, I got a handful of photos of a male who seemed to be as interested in me as I was in him.  They are so beautiful.  The few times I've seen females (noted by the white spots on their wings and duller color), they always fluttered off before I could get anywhere near them.  In the pond setting, they were preoccupied with other things.  I watched as these delicate little insects would sit on a leaf, and for no apparent reason, would fly off in a loop and return.  However, when I took a closer look, I saw that they often had secured something to eat - a mayfly.  I saw a male and female do this.  Nothing delicate about the way they eat - it's rapid and to the point with some clearly efficient mouthparts.  

The legs of both dragon- and damselflies are positioned at the upper end of their thorax right behind their necks, so they really aren't capable of walking.  But, they are good at snagging and eating prey, and gripping minute sections of foliage.

Ebony Jewelwing male - showing his shimmering iridescent green color and teardrop-shaped wings.  Hand-held.

After getting over two dozen photos at the creek, I was inspired to head down to Haley Farms State Park.  Back when I was more motivated, I used to go running there.  It's a network of trails that go through meadows and forested areas and is bordered by Palmer Cove which leads to Esker Pt. (location of last set of sunset photos).  I generally stay away in the summer because the deerflies, black flies and mosquitos are unbearable.  Last summer, though, the area was awash in dragonflies, so I took my chances and went out.

Common Whitetail (Libellula lydia)

Hand-held shot

Along the path that leads to the cove, there is a small pond, and a little boardwalk covering the muddy area.  This was, as expected, a good location to at least see more dragonflies.  Unfortunately, most stayed over the water, skimming it for insects to eat.  I did manage to get a few photos of this Common Whitetail, although even with a telephoto lens, he wasn't going to let me get that close.  This photo was taken as he landed on a large granite boulder by the path.   A moment later, something small and white flew by and he was off.  Next thing I saw, he was sitting on the boardwalk, eating whatever it was.  Amazing.  

The Haley Park trip ended up providing a wealth of photos, including some of an osprey pair and some great reflection shots.  No deerflies and only a few mosquitos - amazing!

Last stop of the day was to Beebe Pond.  This is a small pond within walking distance of our house and surrounded by a wooded area (and of course, homes).  There is a trail that circumnavigates the pond and we used to walk/run it during favorable weather.  

Eastern Forktail (Ischnura verticalis)

New England's most common damselfly.   Tripod mount.

Along the edge of the pond where the creek is, I saw many damselflies and some dragonflies.  Most were in a shaded area and not in positions to be photographed, but after walking around, I discovered another area where they congregated.  The dragonflies never came close enough or stopped long enough for a good photo, but these Eastern Forktails were happy to oblige.  I sat for probably 20 min. watching them.  Occasionally, one would fly too close to another, and they would take off, flying over the water, with one appearing to knock the other to the water surface, the victor returning to his chosen location.  Unless disturbed [by me moving], they usually stayed put.  I took a ridiculous number of photos of them, and it was hard to pick one to post here.  

"What are you looking at?"  

This individual, at Beebe Pond, would repeatedly take off and land, each time facing right towards me.  His body is facing down, but he's looking up at me.  I think he's wondering what my intentions are.   I love his shiny, bulging black eyes.  Does anyone else but me laugh when they look at this photo?

Anthropomorphizing insects' thoughts...if people think I've gone batty, there is probably an element of truth to that.  The good news is that I certainly won't be leaving the Odonata order behind when we are in CO; the lakes there are also teeming with them.  And I will be happy to sit at the side of a lake, with my camera and tripod,  and patiently wait for the opportunity to capture more of these delightful and entertaining creatures.