Song of the Day

Opera in the Air. Oil on stretched canvas, 11x14, $75

I made my way to Hadlyme Ferry yesterday, to paint autumn in the salt marsh, and as I set up, I heard movement in the house across the street. Someone came out on the porch and did something, then went back in.

I got my easel ready, and made up my palette, got out my brushes and my knives, sipped my coffee and looked at the beautiful place I was painting. The trees leading into the marsh looked soft and bright at the same time. The grass near them was a nearly fluorescent green beneath the a taller wash of gold. The water sparkled in the sun, and as I began to paint, I heard opera drifting from the open windows of the house across the street.

I know nothing about opera, or about singing, really, but I could tell this was a person, not a recording. She was practicing, not scales or exercises, but songs, and they were lovely. They drifted over in threads, there for a moment and then gone, under the weave of the wind, or the birds, or the cars driving past, and then back, a leaf, a color, a sweet breeze added to the bright October day.