The perfect little farm house surrounded by inspiring subjects to fill a dozen canvases. A grandma or grandpa’s house, built for the retired farmer and his wife. Keeping the farm in the family, some families built tiny houses for aging parents to live in close by. The main house was for a growing family with the loud exuberance of kids.
My friend Paul found such a house to rent among the gentle hills south of Millbrook. With the rowdy kid in college, the grandparents moved back to the big house with the others. Only the youngest was still at home.
I captured on canvas the tiny house with its warmth and history. The white, with light green trim excited me. Listening to its history pouring out from its last resident, I saw its caricature and felt its love. It was Sunday, the family attended church and shared their homemade danish with Paul and I on their return. Sitting quietly, they watched us struggle with our canvases dancing in the wind. My painting of the front of the tiny house took on a loose look thanks to the breeze. I didn't notice them returning to farm work. The sound of the "Farmall" tractor interrupted the sound of the breeze skipping through the trees. The smell of approaching rain signaled it was time to clean up. Leaving Paul to his own cleanup, I looked back as I drove up High Point Rd., past a field of sheep with newborn lambs, my little trophy resting on the seat beside me.
What better way to enjoy life.
