Hi, friends!
This was part of the inner monologue that flitted through my mind early last week when I stepped out the door and heard to my left the telltale buzz of the cicada. The males are almost deafening when they all get together to serenade their beloveds in high mating season. This was more like a few, rather than a few hundred, so not exactly loud (not all the bachelors have arrived and the ones who have are just warming up) but I heard cicadas, nonetheless, and that’s a sign that has never failed in the past twenty years to tell me we have five more weeks of summer left (give or take a week).
My favorite season is imminent.
The light will take on a notable golden hue, and the shadows in the afternoon will look long and purple. The mornings will be nippy and smell different. The sounds will change, too, as geese herald their return south and the squirrels’ territorial screams ricochet from the trees across the meadow. I can always tell how harsh the winter will be from the squirrels. If they are aggressive with each other this month and next, that tells me they are preparing for a doozy of a winter with a hard freeze and plenty of Nor’easters rolling through.
I find that nature is always consistent and utterly surprising at the same time. It balances reliability with unpredictability that you can either embrace or reject, but why not take the easy road and go with its flow? From my experience, if I match myself to nature’s rhythm everything feels smooth and comforting, but because I was raised human in 20th century America this isn’t always easy.
So I look to the few humans who know things for advice (like Tristan Gooley, see below), and I try to pay attention to the wild world for guidance. The reality, however, is that most of the time I have no idea what it’s trying to tell me.
Nature is a clear and succinct communicator, and speaks a language that I feel I should understand instinctively. It’s the language of just being, but I’ve been removed from my primal heritage through a whole lifetime of learning how to navigate human made constructs, like cities and society. I’m trying to relearn this language that is my birthright as an inhabitant of this biosphere, and mostly I get it wrong.
The good news is that I’m constantly collecting data by being present and observant, and each time I misinterpret the signs, it’s a lesson learned to take forward to the next time, and the next, and the next. This is why I nature journal, and why the subject of all my creative exploration is the natural world. I’m trying to learn nature’s lingo and translate it into pictures, which stick with me.
So as I travel this month of change, continuing to record my observations for Cricklewood Camp in my handbound journal, I’m also trying to use this time of year as an opportunity to strengthen my “nature vocabulary” and become fluent.
What signs have you gleaned from nature and how have they helped you navigate life?
xoSusannah
P.S. I highly recommend Tristan Gooley’s books, especially the Lost Art of Reading Nature’s Signs.
It’s never too late to participate in the shenanigans. Read the article below for all the details. Let’s nature journal together!
Cricklewood Nature Journal relies on reader support, and I am extremely grateful to my paid subscribers for making it possible for me to make Cricklewood Camp available to you.
For those who yearn to bond with nature through the love language of art, become a paid subscriber for supportive activities, like Wonder-Filled Wednesday, Fieldwork Friday, as well as Cricklewood Camp, and plenty of projects to practice and grow your skills.
You’ll find me live streaming on Substack every week at 1:30pm ET. You can find the schedule for the current month here, and/or become a free subscriber to get notified when I go live. (Perks of a paid subscription include the full replay.)
In September, my live online workshops Introduction to Drawing Realistic Birds and Introduction to Drawing Wildlife begin. Both workshops are geared to beginners. I teach a classical way of drawing from observation that gives you a process (that the Old Masters used!) to interpret what you see from life onto the page. It’s a surprisingly straightforward method so no drawing experience necessary. I’ll have you drawing by the end of the 4-week workshop!
In addition to the beginner workshops, I’m bringing back the 3-month Advanced Techniques For Painting Realistic Birds With Watercolor workshop. The goal is to get you to the next level of your studio practice using a process that takes you from ideation through completion of a painting. If you’ve been wanting to turn a concept into a completed piece of art, this is the workshop for you. It combines demonstration with one-on-one mentorship. Very basic drawing and painting skills are necessary: “experienced beginner to intermediate” level. Perfect for anyone who has take any of my introductory workshops or has gone through Cricklewood Nature Journal’s Foundation Workshop (or similar).
Don’t hesitate to reach out if you have questions!
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