It is officially the greening season. We have moved from tight buds to brilliant leaves and once again I don’t know when exactly that happened. It is like the return of the osprey or the tucking away of the marmots come fall, I don’t know exactly when but one day something isn’t and the next day it is. It feels as though life is racing by on roller skates and I am breathlessly trying to keep up.

It’s all good, just an observation.

It is true this way in the studio part of the day as well. Some mornings feel like starting is going to be a challenge, and then without much warning it is time to dampen and cover the paint and wipe brushes. The doing makes for the magical transitions in time and passage.  I am these days a morning painter, my eyes are less efficient in evening light and I cannot seem to stay in a separate space from family when it is days end. If I am really into a piece in process, when the house is sleeping I will sometimes slip back in and work into the wee hours. My aunt and I shared a candle light session, painting with that soft warm glow one winter evening provinces between, but connected.

As I mentioned, it is the greening season, and gardens will soon be tempting me, moments by an evening fire, walks in the sun and drives down roads less travelled.  It is  fast approaching the time for straw hats and bare feet, good novels, sketch books, watercolor boxes and farmers markets and a calendar with blank squares, not because the days are empty but because they write themselves on the wind.