Blooming. . .

 Free with Admission  .  14 x 11  .  oil on linen panel

 

Spring following winter - it's something we can count on, isn't it?  We're just beginning to get a taste of warmer weather here in North Carolina.  Cherry blossoms are raining down like snow just outside my studio windows as I write, making new green growth even more magical. 

 

The last of my long-deceased, paternal grandparent's children, an uncle brighter than life, passed away just a few days ago. . .a generation lost to us now, but the memories hold fast and dear.  I will admit that spring solicits my wandering back deeply into the past, for the loss of some beloved family members occurred while the earth was attempting to bloom again in all its spring splendor.  March, April, May. . .the turning of the season brought forth the turning of life as I knew it, despite my childish disbelief.

 

I've been moved to paint outside the box - a thirst I need to quench at the moment.  Is it the need to crawl out of winter's harshness and look upon the world with new (old) eyes?  Possibly.  At any rate, you can see where I'm presently going in the latest study above.

 

For uncle Jack. . .you are missed:

 

"No, there's no escaping, nor would I want to escape

this outgo, this foot-loosening, this solution

to gravity and a single shape.

Now I am here, later I will be there.

I will be that small cloud, staring down at the water . . ."

~ Mary Oliver . from the poem Life Story