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Numinous Stroll To The Wood Heap (2026)Oil painting by Bridie O'Brien

32 x 32 x 2cm (framed) / 30 x 30cm (actual image size)

£738.46

NUMINOUS STROLL TO THE WOOD HEAP

It was a rented shack with personality issues. Cold, not quite snowed in, crouched beside a stream that allegedly bristles with trout in spring, which felt like a joke since right now it bristled with ice and my dubious choice of a weekend getaway.

Axe in hand and overconfident from morning coffee, I set off to collect wood like a rugged woodland provider. In reality, I was one slippery step away from becoming a small article on the inside pages of the Monaro Post.

Back inside, the day’s cultural program waited. Chess by the fire, hand rolled gnocchi, and Spanish guitar noodling that would impress absolutely no one but me.

I turned onto the small forest path toward the woodpile and the light stopped me. Every leaf lit at once. Soft, holy, unreasonable. Something was whispering. The trees, maybe. Or my joints.

I stood there like a confused pilgrim who had wandered into a postcard.

By the time I reached the pile of frozen ironbark, the glow had thinned. I looked up and locked eyes with a mountain raven.

He stared the way locals look at tourists asking where the real nature is.

Gatekeeper to life’s mysteries? Or just a nosy bird waiting for the first clumsy whack of my axe.

I raised it with the confidence of someone who had recently Googled how to chop wood. I was actually a decent wood chopper, but the bird made me feel wildly unqualified.

The axe came down. A clean, precise split parted the log.

The raven did not blink. Fair enough. Neither did I.

After five long seconds, it squawked and flew away.
-
Oil on stretched canvas / 30cm x 30cm / framed in Tasmanian Oak and ready to hang.

* This painting is still drying and will not ship until mid March 2026.

Materials used:

oil paint

Details:

Tags:

#snow#winter#birch#australia#winter trees#australian artist#snow trees#winterwonderland#snow walk#snow ski
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NUMINOUS STROLL TO THE WOOD HEAP

It was a rented shack with personality issues. Cold, not quite snowed in, crouched beside a stream that allegedly bristles with trout in spring, which felt like a joke since right now it bristled with ice and my dubious choice of a weekend getaway.

Axe in hand and overconfident from morning coffee, I set off to collect wood like a rugged woodland provider. In reality, I was one slippery step away from becoming a small article on the inside pages of the Monaro Post.

Back inside, the day’s cultural program waited. Chess by the fire, hand rolled gnocchi, and Spanish guitar noodling that would impress absolutely no one but me.

I turned onto the small forest path toward the woodpile and the light stopped me. Every leaf lit at once. Soft, holy, unreasonable. Something was whispering. The trees, maybe. Or my joints.

I stood there like a confused pilgrim who had wandered into a postcard.

By the time I reached the pile of frozen ironbark, the glow had thinned. I looked up and locked eyes with a mountain raven.

He stared the way locals look at tourists asking where the real nature is.

Gatekeeper to life’s mysteries? Or just a nosy bird waiting for the first clumsy whack of my axe.

I raised it with the confidence of someone who had recently Googled how to chop wood. I was actually a decent wood chopper, but the bird made me feel wildly unqualified.

The axe came down. A clean, precise split parted the log.

The raven did not blink. Fair enough. Neither did I.

After five long seconds, it squawked and flew away.
-
Oil on stretched canvas / 30cm x 30cm / framed in Tasmanian Oak and ready to hang.

* This painting is still drying and will not ship until mid March 2026.

Materials used:

oil paint

Details:

Tags:

#snow#winter#birch#australia#winter trees#australian artist#snow trees#winterwonderland#snow walk#snow ski
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Bridie O'Brien

Location Australia

About
I am a visual artist and lifelong musician. I was raised on a working farm in country NSW, Australia. Having graduated from the Australian Institute of Music in 1998, my... Read more

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