Rain soft patterings on wet leaves

rain blurred trees photo by E DaggarOut the front window near my desk, the swifting plash of car tires; drips dripping off the curled iron of the fire escape.

Out the back window, where the trees climb higher than the roof, rain soft patterings on wet leaves; there is no wind today.

The leaves have not even begun to consider a change of wardrobe, as Summer lingers; couch surfing straight into October.

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(This is from last week, when it was still in the 80ºs.)

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On a velvet dark night full of stars, the rain began

It’s only day four of Inktober, but already I am feeling as though these drawings are all part of a single story. They are feeling all of a piece. I’ll let my mind percolate on it, see if a story can begin to emerge…

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Follow me @edaggarart on instagram to see more art, or @electrofork to see more photos. Even more art at: elizabethdaggar.com.

On the farm after a sudden, short downfall


I apologize— I missed my Monday posting deadline! I’ve been posting a lot lately, but was somewhat busy leading up to go out of town and come upstate. Here are some photographs from around the farm earlier today. There was a brief, thundering deluge around 11am or so. Then the sky brightened which is always a good time for photos I’ve found. Much more so than a sunny day, depending on the sort of images one wants.

A Spring rain, soon forgotten

The morning, bright and grey,
has brought that soft, all-day rain
peculiar to certain regions, like here.

Neither dire nor gloomy;
gentle patterings on the sill
And out the streetside window—
Wet roads that sound like
crushed velvet or old dresses,
piled flat in a secondhand store.

No slantwise wind or biting air
Just a fine steady parade of silken threads
falling from bright skies

Sequins and bright baubles
gather on the lips of things,
then parachute one by one, to
Join up with silvered rivulets
in the mud of backyards, or
the sunken spots in the pavement.

Inspiring of bookish pursuits
or, maybe, a walk—
The streets are quiet and empty.

Only the swishing of tires as they pass,
pressing unforeseen creases
into the faded dresses—
a jazz brush accompaniment
for a quiet grey spring day,
soon forgotten.

May 22, 2017

Umbrella

umbrella

Wee little drawing I did from a photograph I saw on the web. The image showed a person walking in the snow, but I think it could work as well for rain, being an umbrella and all. Maybe it would be an interesting image for an engraving; with rain added, you know.

I also acquired some new surfaces on which to draw / paint. They are the panels from a box of wine; one of those that comes in a wood case. They’ll need to be trimmed up a bit, to get rid of the parts where the nail gun shot through, but Tara Lynne is going to construct some cradling for my panels in trade for some design work, so I think she’ll be able to finish the edges off nicely.

continuation of precipitation

Weekends in June are meant for bike rides and vast wanders through boroughs near and far, yet here has been a month of puttering indoors, rain delays, and not much wearing of the shorts and sandals. It has afforded no few hours for map-making, at least; that’s not so bad. A friend told me today that it’s the 7th rainiest spring since the onset of recording such things.

(I’ve just had a spot of deja vu… Odd sensation, that– one never gets used to it.)