today

When I've posted my markmaking efforts over the years, often someone will mention in the comments that they would like to try - or get back to - watercolor or sketching or such. So when this crossed my screen it seemed like something that may be of interest. It's called the Sketchbook Revival Binge Fest, with free access from May 27th - June 9th to video workshops by over 100 artists.

sketchbook revival

I know there is an upgrade option for longer access than the two weeks, but personally I know that a 2-week free access window would make me much more likely to look for a workshop I'd like to see, and then actually watch it in hopes of finding a useful tip or inspiration.

Anyway, I thought it might be of interest to someone, so here it is. And it starts tomorrow, so I think today is the final day to register.

(And in case you are wondering with recent posts if I'm having camera issues at the moment...yes, very much so. But this post in particular seemed to need some sketching, so I looked in my photograph files and came up with this rough little video of a sketchbook from several years ago. It was, of course, an experiment, not meant for publication. But now? Send for the Understudy! It's time has come! I hope this works.)

~~~~~

ai

There are so many aspects to Artificial Intelligence. 

Here's one you may not have heard.

Professor John Hopfield and Professor Geoffrey Hinton were awarded the 2024 Nobel Prize in Physics “for foundational discoveries and inventions that enable machine learning with artificial neural networks.”

This is Hinton's banquet speech in Stockholm, 10 December 2024.

It's less than three minutes long.

~~~~~

well sprung

Spring has lasted a long time this year. Possibly because so many things that were going on in April and May made time seem to stand still. Hazel's unexpected and rapid decline. Two drives halfway across the state that each meant several days of physical recovery to get back to baseline levels of pain and fatigue. A fostered rescue dog who was here for 10 very unfortunately goat-targeting days and 10 gruelingly sleep-fractured nights. And days of rain. Lots and lots of rain.

This year I waited so long to hear the first chirping of spring peepers during evening chores that I finally wondered if my increasing hearing loss meant I was simply unable to hear them: a thought that immediately led to scheduling a new hearing test. By the time the test rolled around - yesterday, in fact, and my hearing has indeed deteriorated further - the peepers were here and I had heard them, at least faintly, while walking the fosterdog at night.

The period of the annual leafing out of deciduous tree species felt delightfully long. It seemed as though a great many weeks passed between the first hints of color high up in the maple branches, and the pointillistic effect of entire mixed-species forests beginning to leaf out; one of my most treasured views each year.

But now the bloodroot flowers - which tell me that Winter is over - are just a memory, and the bloodroot leaves have grown into their remarkable sizes and shapes that seem just as fanciful and unlikely no matter how many times I see it happen. Jack-in-the-Pulpit has popped up in expected and unexpected places. The sugar maple leaves are still drooping a bit but are already far past the softest stage that always makes me think of the most delicate leather.

And two days ago we arrived at the point where looking out any window in my little house creates the feeling of being submerged in a wide sea of trees and green foliage. A bit like a kelp forest, but much brighter and more varied. I always look forward to this, even though it also means that the structural details of the forest canopy become largely invisible again until leaf fall, many months away. Something lost, something gained. Isn't that always the way? Maybe not always. Maybe just when we're lucky.

Now how are things in your neck of the woods?

~~~~~

Hazel Catkin

 

Well this is a hard one. On Monday I had to have the vet come out.

The sad result: Hazel Catkin is gone.

She had just turned 6 on March 17th.

The baby of the herd.

Only Bud is younger, by one week.

When Bud was born, big sister Hazel was so sweet to him.

Here's Hazel and mama Azalea on Day 10:

the traditional day for tackling Goat Mountain.

A teenager in Autumn 2021, showing mama her fancy dance moves.

Winter 2023.

As she grew up, Hazel looked more and more like her mama.

As Azalea's last kid, and a single birth, and a doe who was never bred, Hazel has been strongly bonded to Azalea for every moment of her life.

The whole herd is now in disarray and will continue to be for some time.

But it's a pure loss for Azalea.

This will always be one of my favorite photographs:

Hazel, three days old.

Hazel Catkin, I don't know why your time here was so short, 

but I'm glad you always made the most of it.

~~~~~

then and now

That was 10 days ago. It was the third snowfall in two weeks.

This is now:

The bloodroot is up.

And it's cashmere combing time.

'Tis the season of Everything Suddenly and All At Once, and time is getting away from me on a daily basis. But tonight I was determined to at least post a few snaps and say hello before falling asleep.

Hello!

~~~~~