Going to Seed….

Mandala born today…it’s name told to me
“Conception: remembering the time when we were…each…just two cells old”.
In our memory bank, buried deep in that wordless space,
we change the world when we acknowledge every single human has been there.

"Conception" digital mandala © Elsah Cort

“Conception” digital mandala © Elsah Cort


A few hours later, watering the garden…going to seed.

"Going to Seed" photos © Elsah Cort

Love-in-the Mist and Rose Campion going to seed underneath the blue oak canopy.

The story of the days of my life lately. I return to a seed.

[photos © Elsah Cort]

Here I Am…

The air is cooler…I feel relieved. The dried up earth all around the house is still painful to see. No amount of watering seems to make a difference (and I am not watering too much). Each plant seems to be hanging on for something moist and soothing to show up. Me, too.

The artists’ reception last night was hard, too. I had to go as one of the artists this time. Grateful to meet people and not easy to converse because the room allows the sounds to crescendo to the ceiling. All the while thoughts of why make this art? Does the world really need more art on walls? What does it all mean? All the while knowing I will probably continue to uncover more images…in fact, one has been on the “photoshop loom” for several days now, struggling to weave layers into a somethings that says, “Here I am.”

This one is from the past, made from the petals of the local endemic wildflowers
grown from same now dry earth. I need to remember this when I feel so dry.

Made about 25-30 years ago and hangs on a wall in my bedroom.

Wildflower Mandala © Elsah Cort

Untitled Mandala, watercolor with poppy and lupine petals, fringepod seeds
© Elsah Cort

A Bird in Hand

Birds fly in my house from time to time because I leave the back door open a lot.

After weeks of watching the canyon wrens feeding their screaming (in bird language) babies in the little nest hidden under the eaves on the highest corner of my house—and keeping the cats away from them—the babies finally flew the nest.

I think this little guy was one of the parents, flying into the house last Monday. Took me about 30 minutes to finally get him to sit on my finger, his mouth hanging open.

Canyon Wren, photo © Elsah Cort
He stayed still while I found my iPhone to do some portraits of of him.

Canyon Wren photo © Elsah Cort
Formal portrait on my finger.

Canyon Wren photo © Elsah Cort
Shaking so much on my finger, he did not know he could fly away.
So I placed him on the clothes line.
I began to gently take some cobwebs off his tiny feet and wings opened, off he flew.