"Rocky Passages"

Rocky Passage is the third painting in my Flow Series, which follows the movement of water from my Maryland backyard through local streams and rivers, eventually reaching the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean.

This painting features Boulder Bridge, one of the most picturesque landmarks in Washington, D.C.’s Rock Creek Park. Built in the early 1900s, the reinforced-concrete bridge was faced with large fieldstones, creating the wonderfully rustic appearance that inspired its name. Framed by dense woodland and spanning the rapidly moving creek below, the bridge seems to belong naturally to the landscape.

The massive stone arch dominates my painting, while sunlit leaves and tree trunks frame the view from the opposite bank. Beneath the bridge, Rock Creek moves from a quiet, glassy green into white water as it rushes around the rocks. I wanted to capture both the solidity of the bridge and the constant motion of the water flowing beneath it—the enduring structure and the ever-changing creek.

The road crossing Boulder Bridge was once known as Rock Creek Drive. In 1901, it became part of Beach Drive, named for Lansing Beach, secretary of the board then overseeing the park. The bridge itself was designed by engineer W. J. Douglas to blend gracefully into its woodland surroundings. More than a century later, the area remains popular with hikers, cyclists, horseback riders, and anyone looking for a little natural refuge within the city.

Plein-air painters sometimes go through quite a lot to capture the light and essence of a place. Creating Rocky Passage required many trips into Washington, D.C. After finding a parking space, I often had to haul my easel, canvas, paints, and other supplies nearly a mile down Beach Drive before reaching the bridge.

Then there were the outdoor elements: intense heat, humidity, wind, insects, and, occasionally, rain.

One August day, my son Matt came to Rock Creek Park with me. He headed off for a hike while I settled beside the bridge to paint. No rain was in the forecast, but after a while I noticed the sky growing darker and the changing light beginning to interfere with my work.

I checked the weather radar. The rain still appeared to be far away, so I returned to my painting.

A few minutes later, I heard thunder rumbling in the distance.

I checked the radar again and realized that I was about to get soaked. I quickly called Matt, who was still nearly a mile away, and then began frantically packing my wet painting and all my supplies.

Unfortunately, the moment I started across the bridge, the sky opened.

As I scrambled toward the car in the pouring rain, I saw a mysterious masked figure wearing hiking boots running toward me. It took me a moment to realize that the masked man was my son!

Once we were safely inside the dry car, we had a good laugh. We decided that surviving our soggy adventure had earned us tacos and an adult beverage.

Weather is not the only challenge plein-air painters face. There are also gnats, flies, and mosquitoes—some of which occasionally become permanent parts of a painting. Then there are the larger park residents who visit from time to time.

While painting at Boulder Bridge, I witnessed a copperhead eating a large toad beside the water. I watched in horrified fascination as the snake maneuvered the toad without releasing it, gradually turning it so the narrower part of its body could pass through the snake’s expandable jaws.

It was an astonishing glimpse of nature taking its course—and a rather vivid reminder to watch where I stepped!

That encounter made me think more deeply about the ecosystem surrounding me. Rock Creek Park is an extraordinary wildlife sanctuary within a major urban area. Turtles, frogs, salamanders, squirrels, raccoons, coyotes, and white-tailed deer are among the many animals that call it home. Numerous bird species live there throughout the year or stop in the park during their seasonal migrations.

This diverse community depends upon us, as visitors, to respect its home. Staying on marked trails, leaving plants and animals undisturbed, and carrying out anything we bring into the park help protect both the wildlife and us.

After all, that venomous copperhead could have taken a bite out of me instead of the toad!

Although Rock Creek Park still supports an impressive variety of wildlife, the ecosystem has changed considerably over time. Urban development has reduced and divided natural habitats, while the park’s large deer population has eaten much of the woodland understory. When shrubs and young plants disappear, birds and other small animals lose important sources of food, shelter, and nesting habitat. Pollution, invasive plants, and increasingly turbulent stormwater also place stress on the park’s fragile ecosystem.

The power of that stormwater amazes me whenever a major rainstorm moves through the area. At Boulder Bridge, Rock Creek can change quickly from a peaceful, babbling stream into a dark, fast-moving force of nature. Familiar rocks disappear beneath the surface as the swollen water churns and rushes downstream.

By the following day, the creek may once again appear calm and gentle, giving little indication of its dramatic transformation.

It reminds me of the small creek behind my own backyard. Most days it is barely more than a trickle, but during a heavy storm it can swell beyond its banks and cover nearly a third of my yard. Within hours, it recedes and returns to normal.

These sudden changes reveal how closely connected our landscapes and waterways truly are. Soil, trees, wetlands, and other vegetation help absorb and filter rainwater. Water that cannot soak into the ground becomes runoff, moving quickly into neighborhood streams, Rock Creek, the Potomac River, and ultimately the Chesapeake Bay and Atlantic Ocean. Along the way, it can carry soil, litter, chemicals, and other pollutants with it.

The water passing beneath Boulder Bridge may once have fallen in my own backyard.

That connection is at the heart of my Flow Series. Each painting celebrates the beauty of a particular place while tracing the journey water takes through our shared environment. Rocky Passage reminds us that even a seemingly peaceful creek is always moving, changing, and carrying the story of everything it encounters downstream.