September 8
Turtlehead
Chelone glabra
Click on picture for a larger image
(c) Linda Fraser
This native plant is a perennial found in moist habitats of the eastern United States. Flowers resemble a turtle's head. Stems can
be more than three feet tall but usually sprawl across the stream banks or wet meadows where they bloom in late summer.
I keep a journal of where I find plants I hope to paint, and I record the dates that I find the first bloom and the last bloom of those plants. When I have a window of opportunity to paint, I look in my journal to see what plant is blooming, and where. I had recorded finding the Turtlehead in August near a little spring across the street. When I went over there I found the flowers were not quite ready to be painted but a little box turtle was in the wet area below the spring. Three days in a row it was the same story--not yet time to paint the flowers, and the turtle didn't seem to have moved much. I took her home and offered her assorted things that a turtle might eat. She didn't eat much but the next day she was feeling a little better. The day after that she felt great and was traveling all over the lawn at a pretty good speed (I think she had been poisoned by pesticides, herbicides and fertilizers).
So I said to her, "I am going to paint your portrait." I put her up on some boxes on my kitchen table where she stood very still, as though she understood, "chin up--hold that pose." I worked on my painting on the table below as we listened to John Coltrane, Oscar Peterson, and a few symphonies together. Now and then we'd take a break out on the lawn where she would really strut around--it felt so good to be well. Then, back in the kitchen, "chin up--hold that pose," while she saw the image of a turtle emerge in my painting.
After I finished, I showed the portrait to her and took her down to the creek area on my side of the street--where there are no pesticides, herbicides, fertilizers or other poisons. No little turtle ever had the cultural experience that she had. I never saw her again but she had quite a story to tell.
I keep a journal of where I find plants I hope to paint, and I record the dates that I find the first bloom and the last bloom of those plants. When I have a window of opportunity to paint, I look in my journal to see what plant is blooming, and where. I had recorded finding the Turtlehead in August near a little spring across the street. When I went over there I found the flowers were not quite ready to be painted but a little box turtle was in the wet area below the spring. Three days in a row it was the same story--not yet time to paint the flowers, and the turtle didn't seem to have moved much. I took her home and offered her assorted things that a turtle might eat. She didn't eat much but the next day she was feeling a little better. The day after that she felt great and was traveling all over the lawn at a pretty good speed (I think she had been poisoned by pesticides, herbicides and fertilizers).
So I said to her, "I am going to paint your portrait." I put her up on some boxes on my kitchen table where she stood very still, as though she understood, "chin up--hold that pose." I worked on my painting on the table below as we listened to John Coltrane, Oscar Peterson, and a few symphonies together. Now and then we'd take a break out on the lawn where she would really strut around--it felt so good to be well. Then, back in the kitchen, "chin up--hold that pose," while she saw the image of a turtle emerge in my painting.
After I finished, I showed the portrait to her and took her down to the creek area on my side of the street--where there are no pesticides, herbicides, fertilizers or other poisons. No little turtle ever had the cultural experience that she had. I never saw her again but she had quite a story to tell.
