Every year spring rolls over and wakes me up. Painting, among other needs, has lain dormant for much of the last year and a half. Fortunately, a little rousing incentive from May weather has jarred me to my senses. Holding a brush felt a little like taking a long stretch and even though I couldn't control my colors as much as I would have liked the experience was rich.
I recalled today, in a more meaningful way, how painting tethers me to other rich experiences. I drank in the hour drive to this spot with my dog, the stops to try out potential painting locations, the wading in a river to find the perfect spot only to have a sudden rain shower baptize my open, still blank tablet. Further down the road, the sun broke for a good hour and a half so I could paint and, as if God had been playing with his watercolor set, the sky broke loose and poured as I left.