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The Sugar Shack SOLD

Acrylic on Canvas 2018 , 12" x 12"/ 1ft x 1 ft/ 30.5 cm x 30.5 cm  Maple syrup March- April snow, snow cabin, Maple Trees, Lake, My grandpa and I would collect maple syrup each spring. He would boil the sap in cauldron over an open fire. The syrup was as dark as molasses and you could taste the maple tree in it. I remember carrying the buckets at about shoulder height over the snow. I was about 8 years old. Some moments you never forget SOLD

Reflection,Acrylic on Canvas, JJaros, 2018, 12"x 12" / 30.5 cm x 30.5 cm

Often while camping at sunset the trees seem to be dyed with the fiery colours of the sunset. The needles became like mirrors of molten light losing individual form

Snapping and crackle of a fire under an open sky at night relax my thoughts of the day. No matter where I am or what I am doing the thought of the campfires I have sat around has always brought me peace. I remember trees silhouetted, the lapping of the lake nearby and quiet sounds of forest life around me and feeling stress melt.

 Canoing for me is meditative and there are golden moments like at the time of sunrise and sunset. I am grateful for those moments. Listening to the life of the forest on the shore, the dip of my paddle gently slicing the water so as not to disturb the scene around me, I gently glide to my site. I remember wishing that the sunset would last for that little bit more. SOLD

While camping often took hikes.  I rarely set a time limit because my urge to explore overrides time limits. So times the light would tell me when it was time to return. During my hikes I would take breaks, stop, listen and look at what is around me. I wanted to absorb the scene I was in. I often wonder when the last person stood was where I was standing. After a few moments getting my bearings I would travel on. There is something so freeing being on a path in nature.  

Why is it that solitary trees catch my attention? Perhaps its because of their balance between independence and dependence. It is much harder for a tree to sustain itself alone, but those that do gather a quiet strength to them. SOLD

Do you ever notice a particular sunset so powerful that it seems to dye the landscape with its own colours? The trees and brush seem to stand and for moment wears the golden hues of the sky softening the definition of their leaves. I felt like they were soaking it in and saving it within dendrite rings for  warmth through the night. 

Silhouetted against the fiery sunset this island and tree seem to stand as audience to witness the  movement of unbelievable beauty.  A moment so loud in its silent passing I became mesmerized gliding by it.   

The snow melt on fields, waterways , roads  is a time waking. It is the movement of a season witnessed in its physical metamorphosis. It is the time of loss and gain, reflection and possibilities.   Looking at the river with the break up of snow and ice chunks floating by  I felt my thoughts flow along with them towards possibilities.  

On the rare nights that Aurora Borealis  appeared where lived made my ears ache to hear the movement of its dance.  The silence of its movement was deafening and I could not tear my eyes off of it.  It didn't seem real and yet it was.  

I have lived in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada  throughout my life . One of my favorite pastimes was skiing. I use to ski through the forest on paths that allowed for cross country. Off to either side of the paths were scenes untraveled by skis. The winter forest canopy being thick with snow would create an insular world of sound. Sound does not travel far with fresh snow. I would get glimpse through the boughs of covered paths and felt the urge to find out what was through that opening. AS I moved on down the path the magic moment was remembered  as place to explore for the future 

Living in the country you get to see large tracks of snow over the landscape. While out whether skiing or hiking I would scoop a handful of snow up and look closely. The soft icy edges of snowflakes reflected prismatic colour of light. I would look across a field a see glints of these colours. The snow appeared white but was filled with so much colour. 

I often would camp in what was term Ontario provincial wilderness parks. Perhaps I choose these parks because my love of hiking. The paths though challenging were not without their rewards. I would often come across inland lakes framed by colourful rock and granite. Rocky faces would gaze over the lake in a direction I could not follow.  Trees  seem to spring from the rocky shield despite the soil-less climate and their tenuous hold. It was a times like these I would sit on the rocks and listening to the forest.  

Georgian Bay beautiful and vast. Storms whether they were  rain or wind would come at a moments notice to the shore. You would see the clouds pull like  curtains over the sky. Wind would buffet the rocks and the trees near the shore. Some of the trees would withstand the wind while others seem to hold its form in their branches. Walking along the waterline I would duck back into the cover the forest behind me when the wind would whip up grateful for their stand. 

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