Sunday after work, I grabbed my DIY pochade and headed out towards West Arlington chase the last bit of light for the weekend. It’s almost sweater weather, the sun was filtering through leaves it up just begun to turn, and Vermont looks like a fantasy land at this time of year.
I was having hard time deciding, so I finally pulled into the parking lot near the Norman Rockwell covered bridge walked by the nearby church to set up my easel. I knew I had about an hour before the sun dove behind the mountainSo I started blocking in color quickly, trying to keep the leaves of the tree in front of me between me and the setting sun.
A Leaf peeper Wandered over to my spot and murmured, “Lovely color.”
“Thank you,“ said, smiling but can you bring my brush moving.
I nodded. She smiled. “I paid with oil too.“
We started chatting about oil and watercolor and the fall colors coming in. She was up from Massachusetts for the day getting ready to head back. Exchanged names and I got her card. She asked if I was showing my work anywhere. Then, looking at the sun sinking quickly, she realized she needed to go.
I had about five minutes of sun left after our little exchange, So I painted in the mountains and the closer hills as quickly as possible, knowing I have to do the barn at home.
It was my first time trying plein air. I wish I’d had more time, but standing in the cold all night by the river chatting with a complete stranger about things that were completely non-technical and apolitical, I knew that one hour well spent was worth as much as an entire day painting in the perfect spot.