Oil on canvas, 10x10, $100
Finally, Friday, I finished the work I had to do. I finished the chores and errands. Peter helped me pack the van. And then finally, finally, around noon, I headed out.
I got through New York without problems or traffic jams. Got through New Jersey the same way. And in southern New Jersey, I started seeing beautiful things. Rich, tawny fields. Trees just starting to turn. Light gold and round with October.
Delaware was even more beautiful, flattening out, the land soaking up the sun, a beautiful golden dusk. This morning in Virginia, I crossed from spreading, rich farmland with its buttery light, to the thin bright afternoon light of the Outer Banks, the sun sparkling and dancing over the water on each side of this narrow isle.
And I got nervous. Nervous! The first painting of a journey, it is nerve-wracking. I've made such noise about going on a painting trip. I've made such purchases, announced such plans, gathered such hope.
What if I can't paint? What if I get down here and it all goes away, as suddenly and completely as it came?
Nerves had me. But finally, I reached Hatteras, and the perfect place to paint leapt out at me.
From the first stroke, I knew I would be OK. I knew I would be able to paint. And so I did this piece, loving every instant, every stroke, and I felt the joy unpin the nerves. The wind blew, the sun shone, and for the first time in a long time, I felt free, and truly happy.
Here's my painting in the scene, above, and the van, packed and ready to go, below.