We took the train to get to our vacation place in Southwestern Michigan, and, being a one backpack packer, I figured out pretty quickly that bringing even my pretty portable plein air oil kit was not going to be a small undertaking (with the emphasis on undertaking).

My watercolors and watercolor journal, which haven’t made an appearance in ages, fit into a nice little pencil pouch. They have been my constant companion for the last few days, proving, once again, that old friends are miracles into themselves.

Being easy to set up and clean up, they’ve made it easy to focus on the the birds and bees and the weeds.

And in those moments of focus, of meditation, the weeds become blossoms.