Still I fight through the weariness of the past week's labors. I have made 120-mile round trip treks to the Hillsboro gallery seven days in a row. Today is my first respite. And I'm back to the brush.
Yesterday I ran the gallery by myself, and with no other employees around me, I took advantage of the time to resume watercoloring. After doing five acrylic canvases in a row, I was more than ready to get back to what I really do best. For the first time in my life, I'm rendering a horse grazing in a pasture beneath winter trees. Animals have never been my forte. It's looking alright, and I'm interested.
Maybe today, after I get the health club behind me, and the business at the guitar repair shop, I can focus better on the watercolor. I need some quality space around me right now. And I need for the calendar to disappear. And I need for time to become the "stream I go a-fishing in." Yes, Thoreau is always whispering from the darkened corners of my quiet consciousness.
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