Flight / oil on canvas / 5x7/ unframed / $68
IN THIS GRAY, dark time, I have found myself seeking anything that looks like hope. Reaching for anything that feels like a promise. Grabbing onto any shred of light and calling it sunshine. I know I am doing this, transforming what might be into what could be, what must be. I know that I have been trying all sorts of things, searching for answers and peace in all sorts of places, assigning them importance and then leaving them behind when they turn out to be just something shiny.
But a few days ago, early in the morning, when dark was just softening into dawn, I heard the song of a spring bird - I don't know what - I didn't try to figure it out - didn't try to nail it down - I just listened and let the sweet, short song raise me with it, and let me think of spring and colors and the brightening of the days.
"Nature looks dead in winter because her life is gathered into her heart. She withers the plant down to the root that she may grow it up again, fairer and stronger."
- Hugh Macmillan