Sweet corn and fingers dripping with butter. Mom, wiping hands with her soft cotton hankies. The county fair with its antiques and baking contest. Firemen race up ladders, spraying each other with fire hoses. Steam powered tractors bellowing white clouds of smoke, draft horses pulling hay sledges loaded with people . Cousin Maryanne showing her sow in the 4H tent and winning a ribbon. Tom Sawyer straw hats and flat hamburgers smothered in onion, wrapped in soft butternut buns…
My mind is carried to forgotten times as I paint small scenes of a county pasture. Mike and Paul have their own memories inspiring them. Mike, with his camera, looking for just the right milkweed and that Monarch butterfly to land. Paul is doing a small watercolor, as I rush an oil. Mike seems to be very patient with his desire to capture that Monarch. A car slows to check on us, we watch as it raises a tail of dust and turns into the drive of the farm down the road. Mike seems to be napping as Paul and I add to our small challenges. A bumble bee, with its leg loaded with golden pollen, brings Mike back to his task of getting a perfect picture. Our paintings and photos are the reason for the three of us to get together to do nothing. No wild tales to tell, no complaints to share, just enjoying one another presence. I paint my blue sky, capture shadows of drifting clouds, and tone down the greens of the distant trees while widening the wheat field to please the design I need. The bumble bee, safe on film, allows Mike to return to his nap.
Taking care to adjust my brush work, I touch up a new cloud drifting into my vision. The grass brushing against my easel could use a bit enriching on my canvas. With a sure hand, I sign my day's effort and carry it to the car. Paul is completing his second watercolor as Mike dusts himself off and asks if we are done. Sitting in the grass, it is only the sound of crispy apples being eaten and the buzz of a pollen loaded bee, that is heard.
