Yesterday evening I packed my French easel; brushes and palette knives, tubes of paint, little pots of oil and oil of spike lavender, and another of the two mixed together, my medium of choice. I laid two canvases together face to face, separated by those tiny little barrels with the pins sticking out of both ends; what a simple but ingenious invention those are. I mounted the canvases on the easel and all was ready for a satisfying day of plein air painting. I was going to go down the hill to where the little, rocky, wooded stream burbles over the shale, or maybe north through the woods to the old, abandon pasture with its wild apple trees. Then I awoke this morning to a gray, leaden sky drearily weeping a cold, steady rain. Some days it just doesn’t pay to make plans…
Posted on: Tue, 13 Aug 2013 20:45:33 +0000
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