Big Cows - and Riding the Rising Tide of Spring

Big Cows

Oil on canvas, 48x48

sold

 

Another of the unexpected rewards of this life of painting is that I spent a lot of time outdoors. Throughout my decades of working inside office buildings, I thought I had maintained a connection with the natural world - and I had, but now I see how tenuous it was.

These days, I notice when the tips of the winter trees begin to redden with the very first touch of springtime, then turn yellow-green, and then, in what seems like seconds, burst into leaf. I've been out painting in chilly spring mornings when the first summer birds have sun their arrival. The earliest hummingbird landed, bedraggled and hungry, on the feeder outside my studio.

Here, on the Eastern Shore, and south of here, in the Carolinas and Tennessee, the dogwoods have bloomed, shining deep in the forest, and dancing along the edges of the woods. In town, daffodils have come and gone here, except for in the deepest of shadows. Azaleas are in bloom everywhere, ridiculously, piggishly bright, so vivid they seem to suck the light from everything around them.

This morning, I drove in a thin fog to the vet's, bringing a sample from Woodreau, who I hope is not as sick as the vet seems to think he could be. I made my way slowly, along the back roads, and the greening fields seemed to shimmer through the mist. I saw wisteria, hanging in vines in the woods, in front of a long-abandoned house.

The seasons turn in slow procession and these days, they carry me with them.

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Dog of the Day

This is Scout, who lives in Wachapreague, and walks by the house every day with Bill, a friend and fellow Red Sox fan. The dogs think Scout is the best target for barking EVER.