I drop anchor on a swollen bend of the Blackfoot River, where the water eddies and the sun glimmers like gold coins scattered across its surface. Willow branches lean into the current, their green tips grazing the water with grace, offering emerging salmonfly nymphs a living bridge to aid in their passage from river to sky.
Anchored in Stillness: A River Awakens
A silvery blue butterfly lands beside me fluttering once, twice, and then vanishing into the morning air, which today seems to be the same shade of fragile blue as its wings. To my left, a small tributary joins the main stem. The small stream is still clear and green, but at the confluence it disappears into the muddier swell of the Blackfoot. It's been warm for days, and runoff has grown heavy with earth.
Sketching in nature
Binoculars as a Gateway to Presence
Beneath me, my raft rocks gently, bringing me comfort in the same way I imagine a cradle does for a child. I’m alone, except for an osprey calling overhead and the quiet stirrings of creatures I cannot see but know are nearby. I reach for a small pair of binoculars I carry on me regularly, much like some carry their phones or wallets. Having them on me reminds me to pay attention and through them the world comes into focus.
Sketching in nature
Birds in Motion, Thoughts in Stillness
A Kingfisher zips upstream, iridescent, and erratic. An eagle dives, then rises again unsuccessful in its hunt, that is if food is what it had been after. I rummage through my dry box locating my journal and watercolor brushes, just as a gust of wind flutters its pages and nearly carries off my hat. I laugh, pressing it down onto my head with my palm. I hunker down on the floor of my inflatable raft pressing my back against my dry box and take some gentle breaths, quietly observing, letting the sounds and textures of the river wash over me. I breathe deeply and thoroughly and silence the noise cluttering my mind. As I paint and write, I attempt to translate what I see and hear and feel into something tangible.
Sketching in nature
Painting the River: Translating Senses into Art
I’m enchanted by the landscape and the natural world around me; I always have been. My life’s work has been to appreciate it, to spend time in it, to study it, to marvel in it, to document it, to make art with it. And for a sensitive creature like me, I suppose this process has been one of the most reliable ways to free my thoughts from the jail cell that can be my brain and let my ponderings stretch their antsy and eager legs on paper.
Sensitivity as a Superpower
I was always told I am “highly sensitive.” For a long time, I believed that to be a flaw. Slowly, I have shifted that perspective and now I like to think of myself as a small insect with highly tuned antennae, picking up signals and stimuli in the form of tones, moods, colors, shadows. Though overwhelming at times, it’s also what allows me to observe, contemplate and feel so deeply. Through my mixed media work of analogue film, collage, watercolor, and simple pen-on-paper journaling, I am able to ground it all in something palpable.
A Walk into the Forest, A Gift from the Earth
Back at the river, I carefully step off my 13-foot raft and wander onto a gravel bar that transitions into a patch of national forest land brushed with cottonwoods and a few solemn evergreens. I follow a worn game trail, slowly, eyes low scanning the earth. In a sun-dappled curve of the bank, I find a morel mushroom. It is tall, golden, and a little dry at the edges. I pick it gently and place it in my fishing net since I have no basket.
Sketching Under the Ponderosa
When I return to the raft, I slip beneath the long shadow of a Ponderosa and open my journal again. I sketch. I paint. I write. I tape in a feather and a sliver of grass. I note the questions I’m carrying. I match the tones of my paints as close as I can to what I see with my eyes. I jot down a few thoughts, gratitudes, curiosities, and memories of this splendid day on the river.
A Moment with the Eagle: Wisdom in the Canopy
In a sudden flurry, both an osprey and a bald eagle sweep overhead. The osprey clutches a fish in its talons, dripping with river water. Meanwhile the eagle circles once, twice, then lands on a high branch not far above me. I raise my binoculars and lock eyes with this ancient sovereign. I use my phone adapter to snap a quick portrait of the eagle through my binoculars, so I can finish the drawing later when the light has shifted and my memory begins to soften. Its talons grip the branch like roots grown from hunger and wisdom. It doesn’t move, but its gaze is fixed. I watch and listen intently, my antennas soaking in the surroundings as I lay down another brushstroke on the paper.
Sketching in nature
A Field Exercise to Try for Yourself:
On your next walk or float or afternoon under a tree, bring a small notebook and your favorite art supplies. Start by observing and paying close attention. Ponder these questions:
What’s something I notice that I haven’t previously?
What color, tones, shadows, light catch my attention?
What do I hear, smell, or touch?
What small story would I like to remember from this moment?
What moved my soul and what sparked curiosity?
If you have binoculars, take a closer look at the treetops, wildlife, distant topography, rocks, bark or the ground beneath your feet. Snap a photo if you’d like to finish your sketch later.
Let your journal aid in your observation, contemplation, mindfulness and appreciation for the natural world.
About the Author
Gloria Goñi
Gloria Goñi is a Spanish photographer, filmmaker, writer, and guide living full-time on the road with her two trusty pups, Alberto and Shakira. As she travels across North America, she follows her passions for hunting, fishing, foraging, and outdoor cooking. Her creative work reflects these themes, along with her dedication to public lands, conservation, and human geography. You can explore her work on Instagram, YouTube, and her website www.lapescadorastudio.com.