It’s actually before noon and I’m posting in this modest little blog before
I'm bleary eyed with fatigue and it’s long past my bedtime.
It feels like it’s been raining here for days, which it has. I seem to have an irresistible urge to hibernate or perhaps to use a term from the last century, I need to “cocoon.” I find myself thinking about how good it’s going to be to climb into bed and just shut it all off for the night. But not before I read myself to sleep. Books are a place to go when I’m tired of thinking about where I am.
I’ve finally realized that although my long hours at the easel are perhaps making me a better painter, those same hours have kept me away from my old friend, the novel. How I’ve missed all those characters with their complicated yet common lives. I crave words, words on paper. I realize that since I’ve working with words less, my vocabulary, that I was once just a little bit proud of has become embarrassingly limited. Stumbling through my first few blog entries was all the proof I needed.
But thankfully, I don’t make my living through words, and I hope that I’m a better painter than I am a writer. So it’s time to get to my paints.
What Female Error Here?
" If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget them all."
~ Alexander Pope
Small Format Art
Size: 4 X 4 in
10 X 10 cm