The Topography of Drifted Snow

Last night's sky was clear as a bell.

After finishing my evening practice I stood beside the lake for a few minutes and watched Orion rise above the horizon. I remembered the times I'd sat at a telescope on my back porch in Holladay and sketched its most famous nebula (resulting image at left)--and how I used to be able to watch it rise above Mount Olympus through my bedroom window...the hunter's starry extremities embracing its peak like the wings of a butterfly.

The wind was howling ferociously, and I thought to myself: how odd to be surrounded by drifting snow in such a gale and still be able to see the starry sky...

This morning I marveled at the sculpturesque landscapes left behind after all the blowing...

These snowy formations near the lake shore were not unlike geographical ones I'd observed in Utah's southern deserts. As I explored their sprawling ridges I could imagine myself flying high above a desolate white-sanded landscape...

I've got no classes today and will finally be able to devote a few blissful hours to a drawing I've been working on in bits and pieces all week. An art contest for all current music students was announced a while back and of course I've got my eyes on the prize. The winner's work will be featured on the postcards NU sends out to droves of prospective students in order to advertise its music program. Though there is no monetary award, it would still be thrilling to see my credited work distributed so widely. I finished sketching out the basic idea last night and have an ambitious amount of detailed pen and pencil work still ahead...keep your fingers crossed for me and I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Today was supposed to be a rather gray and foggy one--even rainy if you can believe it--perfect for holing up inside and being creative. However, things so far haven't been nearly so bleak. I guess I'll be getting some sun on my skin after all...