A Song for the Winter Solstice

Posted on December 16, 2011 by composerinthegarden

Winter, an artist’s sketch in charcoal, so clearly etched against a cloud filled sky. . .

In celebration of the moment when the earth turns on its axis back to the light of the sun. This year, in the northern hemisphere, the winter solstice occurs on December 22. Time and Date offers a clear explanation of the solstice as well as explores the customs and traditions around it. To see a beautiful collection of “brown and gray and sometimes white” nature photography, explore Robin’s post on frosted Queen Ann’s Lace in Life in the Bogs.

“Winter” was one of those songs written in a moment, in a winter where snow alternated with grey skies and brown earth. This recording is a “first take” for both the piano and vocal. The visuals are all from my garden. Enjoy!

All music making is collaborative in nature. A special thanks to Barbara Nissman for contributing her master’s touch on the piano to this song and Mike Tomaro for his haunting soprano sax improvisations. And as always, to my gifted husband Bill Purse, who generously shares his skills as audio engineer and producer in my artistic endeavors.

Winter, snow falling down
Winter, the world is gray and brown, gray and brown and sometimes white
for a night and a day, then all is gray

Autumn in leaves of gold
Springtime, a thousand shades of green unfold to summer
with its joyous Joseph’s Coat of colors, endless colors, endless colors . . .

Winter, an artist’s sketch in charcoal
so clearly etched against a cloud filled sky
Subtle and dark, lovely and stark in gentle tones of gray
and brown and sometimes white
for a night and a day, then all turns gray
Winter today

Soft clouds, soft snow, soft browns, whites and grays
Winter today

Looking up

Posted on November 18, 2011 by composerinthegarden

Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air, and feather canyons everywhere, I’ve looked at clouds that way. Joni Mitchell, “Both Sides Now”

I am short of words this week but filled with images of clouds. I thought I would try the new photo carousel in WP. Enjoy.

Golden sunrise

Gray winter skies

Fish scale clouds

Sunrise ©2011 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved

Clouds Over Pittsburgh ©2011 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved

Evergreen and Clouds ©2011 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved

Heavenly clouds

Fiery sunrise

Thick Clouds ©2011 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved

Puffy Clouds and Trees ©2011 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved

Big Sky with Trees ©2011 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved

A Beam of Light ©2011 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved

For a true devotee of clouds, visit the 365 Days of Clouds site

Garden 11/11/11

Posted on November 15, 2011 by composerinthegarden

This year, the garden seems to go on and on. Here is a little tour of flowers, fruit and foliage filling the garden on November 11. Even as the leaves fall, next year’s growth appears.

More next time, after this week’s big concert.

At the speed of light

Posted on November 7, 2011 by composerinthegarden

The speed of light is the same for all observers, no matter what their relative speeds. Einstein

Tonight the air is crisp and cold and the sky is bright with winter stars and a growing half moon. Cassiopeia and the Big Dipper float over the roof of the house and Orion the Hunter is rising in the southern sky.

The “more than half” moon is bright enough to cast shadows across the dark tangle of the garden and thread between the almost leafless trees. The four seasons seem an inadequate description for the ongoing flow of changes that I notice in the garden; it morphs from moment to moment each time I step outside. As I set up my camera for a long exposure, I think of a card that a friend sent describing the thirteen moons of the native American tribes. What is this moon tonight? Harvest is over and winter will arrive soon; perhaps this is a liminal moon, a threshold between the season that has ended and the one yet to arrive.

The lyrics and melody to “Light” (See blog post Fire and Light) run through my head and keep me out in the cold night gazing up at the sky. “Gathered on the waters, reflected by the moon, even once removed, its power streams into the night. Light . . .” The piece is being premiered in ten days and I am preparing the visual media that is part of the performance. Solar flares, clouds across the moon and the water, light sifting through trees and clouds – the images and the music are inextricably intertwined and indeed, this piece was born from nights spent just like this, in the quiet of the garden filled with light.

Here is a sneak preview of part of the piece, with a MIDI soundtrack sans sung lyrics. The lyrics to the clip shown above:

Light, Light, Light. . .
Gathered on the waters,
reflected by the moon.
Even once removed, its power
streams into the night,
Light, Light, Light . . .

Turbulent Transitions

Posted on October 31, 2011 by composerinthegarden

I stood on a hill in Dunoon, Scotland, in the middle of March many years ago. Powerful winds brought a succession of rain, sleet, snow, hail, and sunshine over and over again in the course of an hour – a microcosm of the turbulent transition from one season to another. The change of seasons this week in Western Pennsylvania was less compressed – spread over days rather than minutes – but otherwise not so different. The week began with a warm evening on the deck, listening to what surely would be the final cicada and frog chorus of the season. Gusty winds brought cold temperatures and days of rain, followed by an enchantingly beautiful misty morning immediately followed by a snowy morning, all in less than a week.

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Though I’m reluctant to acknowledge the end of the gardening season and the coming of winter, I must admit that I love the turbulent changes that the seasons’ transitions bring. There is a certain security in knowing that one season will follow another, an overarching stability of structure. But the passage from one state to another is filled with chaos, unpredictability and extreme fluctuations. It is this push pull of change and stability that fascinates me, and it seems to be at the heart of my artistic endeavors as well. Achieving a balance between the familiar and the novel, the security of what has been done and the adventure of exploring new ideas, is an ongoing dynamic in my work, and perhaps in my life as well.

A video celebration of nature’s transitions in my garden, set to the music of “Falling” from “Three States of Being.”

Here’s another take on the idea of transitions as passages, courtesy of Margie Strosser.

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Gardening in harmony with nature

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