To be read in your best Clark W. Griswold voice.
Spring
Rejoice and Be Glad
It was a sunny six degrees by the time I got Thing2 to the school door, and, after a weekend of sub- sub-zero temps, the sky was so gloriously blue that I had to stop myself from blurted out how much it felt like spring. Knowing the mention of the five-letter S word would scare it off like showing a rodent its shadow in February, I silently ran my errands, making mental paintings of the trees and the shadows on the still-crisp snow.
Even a text from Thing1 reminding me he needed to practice driving stick (in mom’s car of course) couldn’t dim the feeling that it was as close to a perfect day as anyone could ask for. I’m not religious, but whenever Mother Nature is putting on a show like that, the greeting from Psalms that opened services at my parents’ old church runs through my head:
“This is the day that the Lord hath made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
Whether you think a beautiful day was made or just happened, there’s something to be said for the missive to rejoice and be glad for it.
I admit to being a bit of a worrier. I worry about Thing1’s healthcare prospects as he’s starting to leave the nest. I worry about ever being able to retire. I worry about the growing number of displaced people around the world or if we’re moving closer to blowing up the human race with every single day.
I’ve been guilty of not rejoicing for days on end and even contemplating throwing away the rest of my personal collection of days.
My failure to rejoice in the moment — even for just a moment each day — is being rectified. Over the last few months I decided to make a change in my life and go back to school so that, in the long run, I would have more time to work on art and to feel like my life work will make a contribution. I’ve enjoyed school as an adult but as soon as I was immersed in study, I felt as if a fog was clearing.
The world started opening up, and I suddenly started to see the possibilities as well as the dangers. Despite a new mountain of work and all the same worries, I had more energy everyday. Without even realizing it, I was rejoicing.
Even if yesterday had been the last day, not rejoicing in the beauty of sun on the snow would not minimize any current troubles. Acknowledging the gift of that day, however is a recognition that there is always beauty, and worry cannot diminish it, even if it tries to obstruct it sometimes.
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The Bears are Back in Town
No, you’re not looking at a painting of a suggested location for the remake of the Munsters or the Addams family, down-home version. That overgrown patch of weeds and meadow is going to be my garden this summer.
The local bears have already begun inspecting my composter and have made off with the lid to make sure there’s no confusion about whose garden this really is.
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More than Weeds
A week ago it was in the 30s, and this morning I walked out to the driveway to find that The first wave of dandelions had already bloomed and float away. This is a member of the second wave getting ready to open.
I know they’re weeds, and I probably won’t be so philosophical when I’m yanking them out of the garden next month, but right now, after a long rainy spring, they’re a lot more than weeds. They’re miniature sunflowers.
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May Flowers
If was rainy and cooler for most of April, and the May flowers arriving right on cue. A couple weeks ago, I bought a basket of pansies. I am the world’s worst waterer –so bad that the Society for the Prevention of Picking on Pansies has sent several threatening letters warning me not to buy hanging baskets anymore. Mother Nature intervened this year and made sure they survived.
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Spring Sprang
There’s that moment in April or May with the world goes from hinting at spring to exploding with it. I was lucky enough to have the day off yesterday to see it as it happened.
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Brand New Day
The trees are still bare, but today’s the first day it feels like it could actually be spring. Even the field stones seem to be blooming today.
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May Astray
It feels like March outside, but on the first sunny day in weeks, May seems to be rallying.
I’ve been trying to warm to the water pens in anticipation of a trip to Iceland this summer which will require traveling light, but so far I’m not enamored. I’m determined, though. I’m doing a mini-painting a day in my moleskin journal to get revved up for summer shows and trips and hoping the weather will give us something inspirational soon.
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An Early Spring
Springs First Kiss, 9×12 Watercolor
The lack of significant snow has produced some dramatic, and, in some cases, romantic mountainscapes this winter. There is more green than white reaching up to the sky, and the bits of snow that remain at the top of the mountain make Mother Earth look as if she’s sleeping, waiting for spring.
I was going north on VT 7, decending from the highest elevation when my favorite perspective of the Equinox came into view. I had sped down to Bennington to get groceries, and the sky was still pink and orange, the clouds leaning over Mother Earth for what seemed to be an early spring kiss. I’m waiting to see if she decides to awaken early.
To purchase the original, contact me at rachel@rachelbarlow.com. You can purchase cards and/or prints here.
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Guess What?
Somehow our three graces didn’t get added to the web collection for the Equinox Gallery show, but you can now buy prints and cards of our girls here.
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Giving Winter a Black Eye
Black Eyes & Bugs Aint so Bad (Watercolor 9×12) – Sold
You can buy prints and cards of this watercolor here.
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Al Fresco
These were our favorite girls – our three graces. They followed us everywhere – even into the house – until a fox discovered a hole in our coop.
You can buy museum quality prints and cards here
Picking My Battles 