Snow, snow and more snow… this seems to be the first of April’s gifts if in fact one views snow this time of year as a gift. I can’t complain at all really, for snow has been sparse this past winter, and a day tending the wood stove an easy occupation instead of my daily routine. As of now we still have power [she knocks on wood] so we are happy.
When I picked up a paintbrush after decades of neglect, it was only to feel the movement and color generated by emotion. The whole act an avenue to reconnect with a joy that was absent due to the rage of COVID 19. Alone in my garage as day shifted to night I allowed myself the freedom to explore, and that is exactly what I did during all those shuttered days of 2020, adventuring across canvas or wood, a swirling palette of choices made in the moment. Pure heaven, my mother would have announced if she stepped into the makeshift studio on one of those hot summer nights, the last light splashing against the walls and me dancing about in full party girl mode. And now, you ask? Yes, still painting, but oh my, the canvases have piled up, so what better time for a Holiday Art Sale?!? Tis the season to wrap up my little loves and send them off to a new home.
I find I don’t need to say too much about anything important this week. The world is spinning along regardless of reason or empathy in a reckless and measured spin yet I can do nothing except fall with gratitude for each and every happy day. Today, and all the near yesterdays were all about the flowers. The scent. Intoxicating joy. The magnitude galore. Spring Fling in purple for starters is worth a discussion.
Nine Cent Girl 