Monday, March 23, 2009
To each, his own
For lots of reasons recently, we've been taking that route. And I've noticed, time after time, a field beside a small house just south of the rotary. It's backed by trees and a stone wall. Its small hill and rippling undulations are covered with a dark moss and bright yellow grasses. And in the middle of it, a stand of thin trees is tipped now with springtime red, the buds pushing toward the sky.
And so, Sunday afternoon, I headed over to paint it.
When I arrived, I realized there was no good place to pull over close to the field. So I pulled up in a parking lot across the street, farther away than I'd like, but safe.
I set up and began painting, and in about 10 minutes, an older man made his way across the street. Would I mind if he looked over my shoulder? No, I said, of course not.
We talked a little, then. Turns out he owns the field I was painting, and he, too, thinks it's beautiful. He invited me to pull up in his driveway and paint whenever I want.
Then he came a little closer, took a look at my painting, a look that lasted about a half a minute, and said "Nice to meet you!" and headed back to his home.
Well, my painting is not for everyone.
Thanks for reading!