My Painting Companion

Heading out to the open country to capture an inspiration. With Henry, my loyal bodyguard and protector I seek out dirt roads that travel back in time. Old weathered, once painted structures that hold glimpses of my own childhood. Playing in the hay loft, chasing chickens, shucking corn, and wading in a cool stream.

Henry is looking too, his interest is a bit different. A place to pull over and a fair view of a house and barn, and Henry's approval, I go about setting up. Henry's marked his fence post and is doing his total inspection of the place. He looks back at me to see if I noticed how he sent a small black snake on it's way. He alerts me to a cow coming my way and moves to defend me.

As I begin to paint, Henry takes up his station just in front and to the right of the easel. At first he is at full attention sitting upright, back to me, he keeps a constant visual outlook for danger. A butterfly too close and he does his duty, but not too close for that cow which is now nibbling grass from our side of the fence.

We share a sandwich and some water. I point out a hawk circling above which brings a series of barks, followed by scolding the cow still interested in a painting lesson. With a clear sign it is safe for me, Henry does one more check of the area then settles down for a well deserved nap.

With my painting done and things packed away we take a walk about before calling it a day. Letting the cow know he came close to a bite on the nose, Henry jumps to his post in the front seat and in a loud voice barks his goodbye. He looks over at me waiting for that pat on the head and that last bit of ham from our sandwich. The bread is mine, the ham is all his.

Leaves Swept Away By The West Wind

Scrapping the frost from the car windows, that first touch of winter awakens the dormant artist that sleeps. Copper red and venetian colored branches of the plum tree scratch my cheek as I squeeze by to finish the windshield. Like the long fingers of a model catching the sun in my studio, there comes an awareness of the beauty that stirs around me. Walking round to the front, I see my neighbors houses draped in the November sun. With leaves swept away by the West wind, there is a sense of a clean palette. Bending to pick up the morning paper, I'm frozen for a minute by the different colors in the grains of sand and stones making up the cement.

We settle in to our world and our ways, missing the tiny things around us. The veins in a model's hands disappear along with wonderful colors we first see with that initial lift of our brush to capture their beauty when they pose. The clean winter sun freshens our minds. The cobalt sky and peach colored house on the corner will be with me as I see the model. The smile of the young man passing on the street enriches the light on the snow that is only there in the painting on my easel.

For me it is the things that are not in each painting that inspire me, seeing a child splash in a rain puddle or turning to listen to the chimes of church bells. This morning it was the sun washing away the chill of a November morning.