Siamese

Siamese

Oil on canvas, 12x12. Sold

Last night, in a two-hour Episcopal service, our son-in-law-to-be was baptized, and Peter and I became his godparents.

Jon is in his mid-30s at least. He is a big, strapping guy, and a nice one, too. And he loves Erika, our daughter. Jon was one of two adults being baptized along with one baby and two little boys, one of whom spent the entire service running around the church, making noise.

In spite of this badly behaved little boy, in spite of the fact that the service was interminable and required us to stand for hours (I finally just sat, I was so tired after standing and painting for the entire day, and I don't believe that God cares one way or the other), in spite of all of this, it was a lovely service and I was honored to be asked to be a godmother.

I loved being in church last night. I liked the ceremony, with its incense and its Gregorian-like chanting, and its many candles. I liked hearing the homily, and listening to the choir. I liked singing, and hearing the voices of the congregation raised together in song.

Today, this Easter morning, I feel renewed and revived and yes, a little reborn. The leaves are budding, the grass is turning green, flowers are poking up, and while it is not a perfect morning, it is a good start. And that's all anyone can ask.

Here are a couple photos from yesterday's painting extravaganza.

From left, Larkin (my niece, who is, I believe, picking her nose), my brother Rand, me, and Lizzie and Al, new friends who have spent time with me in West Hartford these past two Saturdays. Behind us, the window is filled with my paintings!

Chinless me.