Our small world here has changed drastically overnight. A reported low of fourteen (seventeen by the time we thought to check the thermometer after getting up this morning) has turned out world from mild to actively cold; yesterday’s winds, revived somewhat now at midday today, have seen to that.
Here at Red Willow, land and leaves are no longer mostly green; most of the wildflowers that remained, from clover blossoms to laggard sunflowers, have shriveled into their small seasonal death overnight. There is a sudden feeling of urgency in the air, one not confined to humans; the birds especially seem to have internalized the looming risk of winter weather. We have no eagles here, at least not yet — and they are rare this close to mass human habitation at any time — but the other raptors have returned. Our red-tailed pair have resumed residence here, and I spotted the larger female, herself now nearly the size of a young eagle, circling over head as I waited at the post office on our way home from running several errands.
The cold months are the raptors’ time: Strong of body and spirit both, they can survive temperatures that jeopardize the lives and well-being of smaller creatures. This is their hunting season, too, and they are now hard at work.
But it’s not merely survival that keeps them here, although they clearly know they have sanctuary with us. The clarity of the air seems to hold particular appeal for them, and they are now busy branching out into autumn skies, swooping and soaring a diving for the sheer joy of it.
Today’s featured works draw lines between soil and sky, linking an earth growing cold with currents closer to the sun. These are by the same artist, both wrought in very different yet similarly vintage styles, a pair of eagles summoned from regional stone and ready to take flight.
The first appears above, and it is the ore detailed of the two, although still manifest in the bold, clean lines of vintage-style carving. From its description in the Other Artists: Sculpture gallery here on the site:
This vintage-style Eagle rises out of a chunk of Pilar slate to call to the spirits. Carved by Randy Roughface (Ponca), the finish is smooth like soapstone, manifest in an unusually soft red color smudged with the more typical gray. Stands 4.5″ high by 3″ wide at base (dimensions approximate).
Pilar slate
$125 + shipping, handling, and insurance
The stone was an inspired choice for such a complex spirit: At times by turns dusky shades of gray, violet, mulberry, crimson, its appearance changes in the light even as its form remains constant. It does indeed seem to be speaking with some source of great spiritual power beyond our ability to perceive, as though receiving a message and gathering itself to deliver an answer to prayer.
The other eagle, by the same artist, is likewise wrought in vintage style, but is given the rougher, more rustic forms that would traditionally have accompanied a coarser medium manifesting a spirit less clearly seen. From its description in the same gallery:
Alabaster comes in a diverse array of colors and shades, sometimes several combined in one chunk of stone. The chunk of alabaster that here gives birth to Eagle is an example: Shades of bright orange and soft lime green swirled gently into white give the stone the appearance of sherbet. Rendered in a deliberately rough-hewn vintage style by Randy Roughface (Ponca) this strong and sturdy spirit bird perches upright, wings just beginning spread as though ready to take flight. Eagle stands 4″ high by 2.5″ across by 3″ deep (dimensions approximate). Another view shown below.
White/orange/green alabaster
$155 + shipping, handling, and insurance
This piece is a bit larger; more colorful, too, in its way. Alabaster is found throughout this part of the continent, manifest in numerous shades, but it’s relatively rare to find white and orange and green all together. While its counterpart above reminds me of maple leaves already turned and stormclouds heavy with imminent snow, this one looks more obviously like a high desert autumn: remnant green of grass and leaves, the amber and burnt orange shades of frozen leaves in the sunlight, and the bone white of their branches newly bare before the snow flies.
This one is infused, too, with a sense of motion, of gathering and active power, shoulders raised and wings spread as it readies itself to take flight. Its red-tailed cousin granted me the gift of a photo a few days ago, captured as she raised her own wings to lift herself onto the winds. Perhaps these small carvings, seated on the shelves and dreaming of flight, communicate with their living counterparts, allowing the former a chance to soar with the latter, at least in spirit.
For the moment, we must wait for the chance to see eagles here. But the hawks have stepped up to fill as much of their role as possible, and they are with us now virtually daily. Like the limbs of aspen and maple, they, too, are branching out into autumn skies, inhabiting the winds with power and grace, perhaps giving the smoke that spirals up from our prayers a little extra lift to the spirits now.
~ Aji
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