As I see it... brilliant color.

I rose when the sun did.

Cycled through farmland softened by early morning mist,

listening to bird song and silence.

Past fields where workers hoed weeds and planted seed potatoes...

knowing I would have the breath knocked out of me by color.

What amazing living rainbows spread out before us every spring in this little valley.

We witness this annual miracle and still can't believe the beauty spread like a magic carpet. 

When it's this early I can cycle down the middle of the road, all alone with the birds and the flowers and the occasional cluster of friendly farm workers, their laughter echoing across the fields.

As far as the eye can see, ribbons of color are flung across the earth.

I turn for home, past barns and fields and wide swaths of grass around the farmhouses.

Pardon me for gushing again.

But what else can you do when it seems that God has taken out His brightest box of crayons again and colored all over the world with great glee?

A chilly afternoon with paper and brush

"That," I said, "is NOT NICE."

I had cycled over to the display garden, where tulips and other bulb flowers are absolutely stunning.

The garden is the showplace of a big bulb company, and if you have tulips or daffodils in your garden they probably came from our local fields.

Then I saw a man snap a photo and then casually lean down and break off one tulip and then another and stick them in his pocket.

It wasn't fair, and before I knew it, I had blurted it out the truth. 

"That's not nice. There's a sign right here that says Please Don't Pick the Flowers."

And that is how I happened to meet the owner of Washington Bulb Company, who thanked me after he stopped laughing and showed me that the tulips were rain-damaged and beginning to rot.

I'd come to sketch the spring flowers and though I shivered, it was the best afternoon in ages.

Good thing I'd brought my paints because I was having too much fun to stop at a sketch. Art is irresistible when you're out there amid the scilla, the narcissus, anemones, tulips, daffodils and hyacinths. 

I drew them from all angles, and the hours flew.

I will show you the results sometime soon.

But if you love spring flowers, you must tear yourself away from duty and listen to the siren song of spring. 

Come cycle to the gardens with me. 

We'll pack a thermos of tea and a little sandwich, and while away the hours with pencil and paper.

Do come, and come quickly, before the petals fall.

Apple blossoms

The fruit trees are just beginning to blossom, which is my excuse to stand gazing at the garden with a silly grin on my face.

I gave myself a permission slip to wander with paper and art materials in hand.

That's what we artists are supposed to do anyway, right?

Hello, Spring! 

Next time I have to remember to include a bee or two.

(Please excuse the ugly copyright info but it's a necessary evil...)

Ahhhh, spring, season of fresh starts

Spring, the season of the fresh start.

Thank goodness.

And now that the trees and bulbs are in bloom, I am blooming, too.

There is so much inspiration at every turn.

How can one help from laughing out loud, from singing, from grabbing a pencil and a brush and completely forgetting what you're "supposed" to get done today?

I had to go sketch the grape hyacinths. After all, they are here and go in about the time it takes to blink.

And the daffodils. The primroses. Those amazing flowering trees!

I hardly want to go to sleep at night because there is so much fodder for the creative mill. 

I woke up last night with a vision of fern designs dancing in my head!

And even the ranunculus that came home from Trader Joe's to brighten the kitchen this week.

After the dull winter inside and out, what joy to find spring and color and life returning again!

With deadlines chasing my tail and the New York show looming, I really ought not to spend this afternoon outdoors, but the violets are calling and I don't think I can resist sneaking out with a pencil in my pocket...

Of shore birds and friendship

“You know what I like about you?” she asked.

“No, I have no clue.”

“You’re an odd bird... and so am I.”

I didn’t know whether to be flattered or feel the sting of a backhanded compliment. 

But I did know she was right. 

We are both not like most other people.

That was years ago and that day I began to see the beauty of being different, to embrace the uniqueness of each individual.

Even myself.

This week I walked along a Florida beach with two of my dearest friends and contemplated the shore birds...

sometimes a single bird fighting powerful surf alone

sometimes almost seeming to dance and play in the waves,

bobbing and racing

standing alone or as mirror images

and at times you see them walking alongside one another

as my dear friends have done for me during recent storms in my life

The birds know how to sit in the sun and simply rest.

The beauty of the beach soaked into our bones.

Together we savored the gifts of the sea,

absorbed the gentle breaking of surf,

the calling of one bird to another,

and the quiet affirmation of a shared glance, a look that speaks volumes, without words.

New York in the Snow

When I flew into New York, I wasn't the only thing that blew in.

A blizzard came along, just for fun!

The streets were slushy and slippery...

people skated freeform on the slick pavement and sprang like gazelles

over the slushy puddles that formed on the flooded corners, landing

with a less than graceful plop, to the consternation of other passers-by,

who were not so thrilled with the trickles of ice down their ankles.

But some of us didn't care!

Central Park was full of flying snowballs and cross country skiers and builders of snowmen.

After a brisk walk through Central Park, what do you do?

Why you visit the Met, of course!

When alone, you can suit yourself. So I wandered for hours and hours.

In the end I pondered Monet (again!)

After savoring so many of his canvases I decided the earlier ones are downright boring and lifeless

compared with his more mature work.

It's that looks looks-like-chaos-close-up.

I need more of that in my own work, even in my own life!

Even though I was in New York for medical reasons, I played hooky and savored all the joy I could fit into the allotted time! 

Home again, paint pots out, calligraphy pens working, and there are sheep to be immunized at the neighbor's this afternoon. 

Winter's end is approaching, spring is hinting at bringing bright joy, and won't that be grand?