Try as I might, I can't keep my spirits up lately. The snow just keeps on coming down around here. Today I had to shovel up almost three inches of the stuff. And may I say how heavy it was? It was really heavy and my back and shoulders ache. So it's exercise, I get it, but it's enough already. I am done.
Those summer watercolors gave me a breath of fresh air, the feeling of stretching out and a moment to warm up and relax. By looking over the paintings I took myself to that time of hot weather and sunshine, far from this dreary misery that is this year's cold and snowy winter.
Sitting on a chair in the garden, eye-level to the flowers made it seem like I was all alone in the world. I sketched the scene quickly in pencil and then went straight to color. Mindlessly, I worked purely from instinct, not thinking of which color to use next, just doing it. I imagined this might be how Monet felt painting his garden pond and bridge in Giverney, France. I painted the way the light fell on the petals and surfaces at the afternoon hour and the color of the deep darks in the shadows. It felt wonderful to lose myself in that moment.
I wish I could figure out how to get myself in that moment right now. Snow is not my friend.