It has been more than a year since our last message, and like much of the rest of humanity, we’ve been in a strange pause for most of it. Fortunately, Mountain Water seems to be a patient state of mind. Twenty-five years ago this week, on a Palm Sunday, we first walked out onto this land. Those many years of mulling, sitting, walking, drawing, and painting here, hosting guests, camping and dreaming, established a rapport that made possible a simple, functional refuge for artists.
We’re grateful every day that, owing to the generosity of so many people, Mountain Water can ride out the pandemic without serious concern. We hosted a number of artist guests during the past year, but the covid-19 uncertainties were, and continue to be, daunting. Lately, there is a sense that things could stabilize in the coming months. Still, we are not planning any summer programs because of these uncertainties, but we will resume hosting individual artists by mid-summer.
Bluebirds, we did invite last year—with a spring campaign of bluebird house construction. It was a thrill to see them move in and raise their families. In winter they turn a dullish color, change their voices, and hide out in the trees until early spring when they reappear and turn their most beautiful blue. They’re suddenly around and visible again. Perhaps “bluebird winter” is a good enough metaphor for our pandemic time: a period of deliberate inconspicuousness from which we’ll emerge excited about new possibilities.
We have other developments to report, news of which we’ll be sending out in the coming weeks. Won’t it be grand to see you here one day before too long!
