Since we are nearing the end of my favorite time of year, I thought I’d give you a break from watching painted flowers develop and show you a bit of the rest of my world at the time I was painting that bouquet.
There are many distractions when one works at home.
First, my neighbor has this incredible plant, and I don’t know the name, but the deer haven’t eaten it yet, so I NEED the name, because I NEED this color.
The mail came, and it contained a package of 2 new yarns. I haven’t talked about knitting for awhile; didn’t want to lose any more readers than I’ve already lost because the emailed subscriptions don’t show photos on people’s phones. (Still unsolved; my web designer is still too busy.)
The pinkish red yarn might exactly match the few remaining flowering quince. As a self-proclaimed color junkie, I had to check, and yeppers, it matches. (Destined to be a baby blanket).
I also needed to know if the lavender matched my blooming lilacs.. Nope, not quite. This one is destined to become another sweater that I don’t need; my knitting is a continual triumph of hope over experience, just like my gardening efforts. Sometimes I get lucky and all the parts work out. Usually the sleeves are too tight or too loose, the buttons keep falling off, the ends don’t stay woven in, I find a dropped stitch after wearing it several times, the collar won’t lie down, it is too short and fat, it is too long and tight. . . you get the idea. (Baby blankets always fit their recipients.)
I really did have some work to do that day. When one is an artist in a small town (the sign for Three Rivers says 2600 but I don’t know if all those people really live here) where one’s life overlaps with friends on many levels, one is often privileged to help out. This was fun, but definitely best viewed from the back of a fast horse. (Would take too long to explain and I’ve already stretched your attention span by going on and on about color and knitting.).
On one of my trips back to the house (a 30 second trip on the Zapato Express*), the light was beautiful on the hillside.
The green and the wildflowers are so fleeting; my daffodils no longer look like this.
So, even though all this distraction and sidetraction (that’s a good word, don’t you agree?) is taking me from my real work, I believe that it is an artist’s obligation to absorb as much beauty as possible whenever it is available. That’s part of the business of art.
*Zapato Express means I walked.
4 Comments
Jana, I so love to see the spring flowers. Here in Savannah we get flowers on trees and shrubs but it is really too hot for most flowers in the ground, just pots. Thanks, I love the electric blue ones.
Janet, I’ve never heard of it being too hot for flowers on the ground! Of course, the bulk of our flowers, both domestic and wild, happen in the spring, not the summer. I am with you in loving all those blue ones.
If my 8 years of Spanish did any good, “zapato” means “shoe” which makes sense for walking. However, technically you could walk without shoes, in which case it would be the “pie express.” No, not the edible kind. “Pie” pronounced “pee-ay” meaning “foot.” Or, if walking in stocking feet, it would be the “medias express.” No, not the TV/radio/Internet kind. “Medias” pronounced “med-ee-ahs” meaning “stockings.” Or sandalias and botas (sandals and boots, respectively).
I’ll quit now, since I hear snoring in the back of the class.
Muchas gracias, Senorita Devola. We’ll just stick with Zapato Express.
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