I have to confess to having a bit of an obsession with feathers. I don’t know why this is so, apart from the deep affection I have for the natural world. But there is something about finding these discarded bird clothes that rings chimes in my heart and makes me smile.
I don’t collect every feather I find otherwise I would be living in a literal nest! However I do have offerings from a variety of feathered friends in my studio. Sometimes I take a photo of my findings, as you can see, but mostly I enjoy the moment of discovery and continue on my way, hoping that someone else may also experience a little surge of joy.
However, I have been quite the hermit these past weeks, barely even wandering into the woods, so my feather spottings have been restricted to those adorning the bodies of all the birds that daily come to my window to feed. January has seen me nestling in my studio, drinking endless cups of tea and working on various paintings that have needed long stretches of uninterrupted time to complete.
Winter is made for a time of hibernation as the world seems to quieten somewhat. Things certainly slow down to barely an amble on this small Island that I currently call home. This languid pace has infused my days and I have been floating through the hours working steadily with paints and pencils as well as enjoying the reading and writing of many words.
It’s easy to lose all sense of the passing of time when living at this pace, especially in my home where there are no clocks save an old one in the kitchen for cooking purposes. But the collection of feathers in my studio is a gentle reminder of the frail, temporal nature of this life; a fading beauty in the moment, soon swept away in the breeze of time’s passing. And so I remember not to take these days for granted and give thanks for all the beauty that they offer.
Don’t tell me of the clouds
pass me feathers for our wings
About the Artwork…
The little drawing featured in this post is a bit of whimsy drawn on Indian Cotton Rag paper called ‘Feather for our Wings’ borne out of these ponderings.