Seed was confused
After she saw the shadow of groundhog on the ground earlier this month. Every cell in the Seed’s body suddenly began wailing. That little fly by night fortuneteller was foreshadowing (no pun intended) no visual hints at spring even though he said only six more weeks of winter.
The thought of at least six if not ten more weeks without the greens and yellows of an inviting spring landscape without the thrill of lazy, plein air painting by the cool bubbling spring down by the Seed’s sun drench secret spot is torture. It means weeks if not months of eluding the bees and yellow jackets, mosquitos, sweat blurring her eyes, bird poop on her palette, and cow poop on her shoes.
Oh, the Seed longed for all of summer and its magic. The Seed, allergic to the cold as she is, will stick to studio painting beside the fireplace and her cup of hot steaming cocoa with a lid on it to prevent dipping her brush in it by accident. Be sure to sign up for the workshop on cocoa painting next month. Ha!
There are those tough of skin, hard as nails, battle worn warriors of below zero plein air painting, but they are not related in any way to the Thistle’s Seed. They can have their fingerless gloves, sock warmers, thermos’ of schnapps (Yah, don’t deny it) and their aching muscles from trekking into the backcountry for whatever view they are searching for, and, of course, the piece d’resistance, oil paints. Oh, yah, let’s see that in watercolor! Did somebody say paint with rubbing alcohol? Hummmmm….Do not try a home. And with a smile the Seed says secretly to herself “To each his own.” Oh, by the way, Happy Valentine’s Day.