The last several months have been so difficult. Besides the isolation of lockdown, the six weeks leading up to that I was cooped up recovering from a broken ankle. Just when I was getting back on my feet, the pandemic hit. All together my imprisonment at home has lasted since January 14th. Granted, the restrictions are easing considerably but still… Now this would have been the perfect time to get involved in a lengthy project like the novel I’m working on but my productivity has been atrocious. In all this time I have written one page. On the other hand, the one thing I have done is paint. Painting feels like therapy to me and while my skills are still rudimentary, the process has been very enjoyable. Here is one of my latest pieces. Something cheerful, bright and full of color. A Wildflower Garden.
No fiction today, I need time to compose my thoughts. Instead, here is one of my most recent paintings. This scene is one I pass on my daily walk. In mid to late summer, the meadow blooms with Queen Anne’s Lace and Black-eyed Susans:
And this is the photo I used for reference: