When I was a little girl, I used to read my grandmother’s natural history books from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. I could imagine no better life than being outside—drawing, writing about the natural world and learning about my place in it. I spent a good portion of my admittedly charmed life doing just that, and I haven’t regretted a single moment. I’m never bored, and each observation seems to supply me with a new handful of great questions to explore.
One of the most fascinating ways to learn about your corner of the world, or anywhere you may travel, is to sketch it. Not just the grand vista, but the things that live and grow there, getting nose-to-nose with nature. (Well, maybe not with a poisonous snake, but you get the idea!)
The shells you find on the beach, the fossils in the rocks, wildflowers at your feet, even the vestiges of prehistoric human occupation can all teach us so much. Not the least of which is to appreciate where we fit into the equation ourselves. I find that what we draw we begin to understand, then to appreciate and then, naturally, to want to protect. It becomes part of our tribe.
Ask yourself: What birds do you see, who visits your feeders and what food do they seem to prefer? Then look for ways to capture what you see quickly. I love something that John Muir Laws stresses in his book on drawing birds: Just draw what you see. If you can’t see it, don’t draw it. Somehow that removes a lot of stress, doesn’t it?
This page shows a variety of observations: Pelicans in the distance, up close and in various positions. Notice how John asked questions right on the page so he could later research further. Likewise, he wrote down the locale and the date. That kind of information is invaluable in nature study.
John Muir Laws often uses a telescope to get close to his subjects, but he may only draw the part he can see clearly.