Saturday, July 6, 2013

Singing in the Rain



A squirrel dangles from the feeder.
Mimosa loaded with blooms.
The moon flower vine finally emerges.
Mid-summer has brought drenching rains and humidity almost every day, making one feel sluggish and water-logged, longing for sunshine and sea breezes. But there is still cheer at The Crooked Little House with birdsong and signs of new nests being constructed in the birdhouses by those late-in-the-game birds. And squirrels dangle from the lone feeder, happy to perform acrobatic feats for the reward of an easy meal. Everything is lush from the rain, smelling of uncontrolled growth and excess.

But for me, mid-summer means endless days of filling orders, doing demonstrations, supplying galleries with original work and making deliveries on tourist-clogged roads. Mind you, I am NOT complaining. I am grateful every day that my work is appreciated, but I so miss the free time of the off season when I could explore my favorite haunts to my heart's desire with no thought of time. Recently, at the end of a class, my students and I were treated to a rare sighting of an otter, his flat head bobbing up and down and his back like a sea serpent as he played in the small pond where we had been working. I was once again reminded of the gifts I receive when I get out of the studio. So please excuse the lack of field sketches throughout the summer. I'll have lots more to share when fall returns, but for now we can enjoy the sanctuary of
The Crooked Little House.
Mary, Mary, how is your garden growing?

The trumpet vine drips with blossoms.
Mermaids and sea monsters continue to creep into the studio each night, keeping me company and taking up space on the worktable. They are expanding, infiltrating my dreams and days, pushing their way into my thoughts. So I am giving in and devoting more time to painting my versions of what sailors imagined were snaking through the waves and under their ships or singing on the beach under a Carolina moon. I like to think they still do. If anyone is going to be on the island on the 18th, stop by Seaside Art Gallery in Nags Head. I'll be demonstrating from 5 to 8 pm. Here's a peek at one of the pieces I'll be working on.


"One of the definitions of sanity is the ability to tell real from unreal. Soon we'll need a new definition."
                                                                                             - Alvin Toffler

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