Landing in an alien place was not so hard As, hey, I was not in charge and Lack of sleep By now is normal; as is greeting the day Honed by tired, only supported by friends, in love With the new. Grateful for good comrades who, when I hit the wall Of here without you, held me in their kindness 'til My footing firmed.
The skies here are always awesome, always. Frame the settling sun sweetly and Yes I am Seated, again, on your bench swatting flies, Watching dogs romp, hearing horses snort, Wine in hand. A tradition that falls short but still allows quiet Space to remember, to apprciate and in that Wrap love around
Even under the brightest of sunlight comes softly, Unbidden, moments of crisp clarity, past shared of When we were.... These push through with talons not dulled by time, Take breath, take tears to move through, even as now I recognize signs. Recognize that grief does not so much diminish As finally learn its proper place, even as it still feels need To push forward.
Where ever you all are, may this evening have been soft And warming to you and may the grief you know Be by your side As a guest, not so much welcomed, But acknowledged for the manners it may Hopefully, finally developed.
The Studio at Line's End Farm is where I paint and try to find some joy again, and some equilibrium, not simple these days. One weblog records thoughts, ideas, methods and mixtures, palettes, observations, actually anything that intrigues me concerning my painting and working in the studio. Another observes only the horse in paintings that I find influential. The last are done for my sanity. All are my opinion only, open to other suggestions.