This morning I awoke to silver skies. I don't dislike grey days, especially in spring and summer when rain brings good things, tulips and daffodils, leaves on trees, carpets of green underfoot. And grey skies are not always gloomy; today the clouds dome the sky with a bright pewter patina. My green lawn of mixed species emits a neon green glow, more brilliant than a sunny day. Orioles, boldly coloured in safety orange, jet back and paper white flit and curse and chatter back and forth between the sugar feeder and the trees. A woman walks by, pushing a stroller up the hill along the side of the road. I wonder what the orioles think, as the stroller is coloured exactly like them.
Yes, I am writing this while looking out my front window that faces West and looks out onto the street. I like to keep an eye on things, like a spider on a web, seeing all that goes past my front door. Bird feeders bring feathered nature onto the scene, so I can also enjoy diminutive malachite hummingbirds, brilliant lemon and black gold finches, and oil-slick black grackles.
It may seem all nothing but distraction, but my 'art' days can be long, frustrating and lonely.
I haven't blogged in a while: I usually write in a small back room used as both storage and office. The window in there is not small, but the sill is above eyelevel when I'm seated and does not present much of a view. This is where I keep my computer, a laptop that I leave rooted in place. It's where I go when I 'want to get business done' and looking at it gives me an instant headache. Somehow, it has turned into a distinctly uncreative place.
Sometimes it helps to acknowledge a weakness and work around it, rather than beat oneself upside the head for failure.
My unbound sketchbook, for instance, is going well. It grows, and while not everything is gold, ideas make an appearance. At some point, I want to work some pages up. Linocuts are an obvious choice, but I'm experimenting with other mediums, and venturing into acrylics. But that's for another day.
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