This project began with an intention to contribute good will into the world, but as I move more and more into it, I am reminded that one of the things that was a part of me from when I was a little girl, was to go into the stillness, the silence and to sense, listen and feel the presence of God in all things.
The sun, the moon, the stars, the land; the rivers and creeks I walked and listened to, the lakes and oceans I would swim in or watch the ripples and tides, the trees and leaves that whisper in their steadfast presence… everything would connect and fill me somehow.
And, even though I am connecting virtually across Canada’s nation, I can still listen, feel, and sense the spirit of the place… then paint and write the impressions that come. So, now it seems to me that it is not I contributing to the energy, but simply being an interpreter… bringing forth the beauty, power, wisdom, love and grace of our Creator and the LAND-SEA-SKY.
Sunkissed Wheatlands of the Prairies—an abstract representation of the miles and miles of rolling and flatland fields with wheat as far as the eye can see. Sprinkled lightly with dots of sun bleached barns, this land of the living skies paints a splendour of crops and toil, plains and meadows, wakened with morning dew and sleepened with sunset’s full flow.
Grassland covers Saskatchewan’s southern plains, and to the north are the rugged rock of the Canadian Shield plateau, coniferous forests, rivers and lakes. Originally inhabited by groups of the First Nations, their influence is still very evident from the number of Aboriginal names given to places across the province.
Wheat and other cereal crops, along with oilseeds and livestock are the mainstay of the Saskatchewan economy. Though they also have half the world’s potash reserves, and Canada’s largest heavy oil reserves, coal, gold, and rich uranium deposits.
Their harvest, the rolling fields and flatlands of wheat that stretch far and wide, have been the image I’ve had living in my mind throughout my life. I imagine a hard days work with evenings to pause, rest and give thanks while gazing upon the sky that never ceases to amaze.
Being the romantic and poetic artist that I am, I love to swoon with words that flow with a grace, and create haunting and beautiful visions inside my mind.
It was so when I stumbled across this song of the Canadian prairies by an R.F. Adams…
“Autumn comes again with sun-flush’d cheek and waving golden hair,
To roam the meadow-spaces from clear dawn to saffron eve,
Pausing by the silent hollow, golden-wing’d by sunset’s glare,
Softly lipping draughts of music where the murmuring night-winds grieve.
Often voices whisper, “Thither roam to where the ripples fall
With a plash of light-flung music on the weather-beaten shore:
Dwell again by moon-lit waters, hear the lake-mew’s lonely call,
Dream of evening fade in splendour through night’s filmy star-lit door.
“There the waving wheat-land nestles in the hollow of the plain,
There the Angel of the evening stoops to drink a draught of peace,
There the boundless grey savannahs wave ambrosial in the rain,
There the mystic tongues of Nature carol songs that never cease.”
I’ll away while now the heaven of youth is shining cloudless bright,
And the pulses throb with passion for the freedom of the plain.
When the night breathes ponderous silence and the sky gleams swords of light,
Then I’ll sing as west I wander by the lightly-waving grain.”
~ R.F. Adams
“The wilds are calling me,
Calling from afar;
The sounds are following me
From the windy bar
By the silent-flowing stream,
Where new mem’ries are.
The morning is calling me,
Dreaming of the dew;
The sunlight is following me
The green woods through.
And the valley was radiant
With heaven and you.
And you are calling me
When shall I go?
By the pale glimmer of morning,
Or sunset’s full flow
Of radiancy streaming
The valley below?”
~ R.F. Adams
Sunkissed Wheatlands of the Prairies—where warm winds blow over the fields, the sun blazes down breathing life into the crops, while sweat soakens the bodies tending and bending, working and living in the quiet gentle places where small towns and little schools rule, and as the sunset colours fade… the coyotes howl.