The Flying Lesson

It’s August in southern Ontario, and, presumably, everywhere else. The weather has been nicer than it should be in late August. We have not been suffering from excessive heat or flooding. We’ve had intermittent rain, and, while it may not be enough to give the farmers what they need, it has been enough to keep the grass and weeds green in my small backyard. It’s been nice out.

Last Friday I went out with my painting group. It’s called a plein air group, but what we do is paint outside, in the air. It’s a pleasant way to spend a half day a week. We went to a winery this week. It’s a beautiful place, spacious and green, with rows of grapes on the vine. We got set up with our easels and sketchpads and our various equipment. We all started painting.

I had a hard time with my painting, which is not unusual for me. The skill levels in our group vary, but everybody enjoys the activity. They are also a friendly and welcoming group. It’s worth attending. I enjoy the beautiful spots we go to, I enjoy the camaraderie and I hope the regular practice will improve my painting.

In looking for a subject to paint I was able to get down among the grapevines. The vines were loaded with bunches of grapes. Because the grapes are young, they are still green and not full size. The effect is that of plentiful miniature grape clusters, only a few inches across.

I sketch that for a while and then realize it’s too detailed for the amount of time I have left, so I turn my painting chair to face down the row of grapes and decide to paint a perspective picture of the rows in front of me. Sounds simple. An hour later I’ve made a mess of my painting and, to a certain degree, my clothes. I’m feeling frustrated but I’m sticking with it.

We usually quit painting by 12:30 in the afternoon. We get together and share our work and discuss it a little before we all leave the site to continue our day. Shortly before noon, I am starting to anticipate the end of the painting session, and I am wondering if there is anything I can do to save my painting.

That’s when I hear the honking. It’s a wild and obnoxious kind of honking, and it seems to be rising. The honking is in the air. I turn toward the sound and look up, and there it is; a ragged, staggering V-shape of ungainly long-necked birds taking to the sky. The honking is a desperate attempt to keep the group in order accompanied by complaints from the younger members of the group as they struggle against the order. It’s a flying lesson.

The geese are Canada Geese, and they will head south for the winter, but not until they are ready. It’s the first time this year I have seen them do this so I think of it as their first lesson of the year. While the geese all look more or less the same I know that many of them are recently developed young adults, as unruly as any teenagers. Six months ago they were tiny fuzzballs, desperate to stay near the adults. Six weeks after that they looked like tiny dinosaurs as they played and fed near the rivers, lakes, and ponds in the area. By summer they looked just like the grown-up geese, but a little smaller. Now they are learning to fly.

I realized as I watched the noisy spectacle that I was witnessing the first sign of the end of summer. It would take these geese a while before they would be ready for their first migratory journey. This is just the beginning. Then I remembered that a couple of days before I had found a dead, brownish-yellow leaf in my green backyard. It looked like the leaves we get in the fall, but it was a lonely bellwether, an outlier.

Of course, the days are getting shorter. Somehow, though, these other signs seem more concrete. Almost every year about this time I have noticed the single fallen leaf, and of course, I’ve seen the early flights of the geese as they get themselves and their young ready for the journey that lies ahead. As we all do.

I enjoyed the rest of our shared painting day and then got on with my weekend. The next day I got my paints out and started a sketch for another painting. It was meant to be a study, done on poor paper in a practice sketchbook. Somehow it got away from me and turned into a simple line-and-wash painting. I thought to add some birds to the picture as I finished it. In my mind, they are geese. I titled the painting The Flying Lesson.

I hope you are able to enjoy the rest of your summer. Please give a thought to those who are not able to enjoy theirs due to fire, flood, excessive heat or other tragedy.

Illo by author. : The Flying Lesson. Pencil, ink, gouache.