Reflections on ice.

Wrights Lake, just north of Highway 50 in an area that suffered catastrophic fire, just on the edge of Desolation Wilderness is a typical alpine lake surrounded by shuttered cabins and untypically devoid of almost all sound. This is not a day of paddling from one place to another. This is a day of immersion in just one small lake, one small place.

Ears must adjust to the absence of constant, relentless human caused noise, we launch a kayak, complete with the paddler’s loyal dog who companionship I appreciate-just in case bears are about.

I’d brought my paints and from the bow of the canoe, sought to distill what I was seeing. I generally prefer to experience this grandeur directly, rather than interpreting the landscape, my eyes on the paper rather than the view.

This is the lower of two lakes and our desire to explore the upper was foiled by a sheet of ice too thick to penetrate with a canoe. I pick up a shattered piece about a half an inch thick. I can hear the ice tinkle in the warming sun.

Now I’m more intrigued with the ice than I am with painting.

Look closely. That is a tiny spider. I wonder how and why it navigated to this spot-so far from the shore.

Originally published at on December 1, 2021.




Artist/writer: multi-media from sculpture to paintings to words.

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Stephanie Taylor

Stephanie Taylor

Artist/writer: multi-media from sculpture to paintings to words.

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