We are official…I have a Florida driver’s license, the moving truck arrived with my beloved car, I have oranges on my license plate, and I have a Florida voters I.d. and a library card. The boxes are unpacked, though there is still the occasional…do you know where the xxxx is? I have even been working on a commission in my new studio…which used to be the dining room. The commission is nearly done and as it was Friday night, we took our chairs out to enjoy our evening cocktail on the edge of the pond.
The home we are living in belonged to my husband’s step-mom. She passed last October. A classy woman with impeccable decorum, I always connected with her as she, too, only had step children, none of her own. We are living with many of her possessions as we decide if “condo life” suits us, or in my case, if we could possibly have the energy to move again. I am deeply aware of her presence in the house and grateful for many of the choices she made. (Except perhaps the master bathroom wallpaper.)
On the moving truck was a bench that sat under our front window. We had donated it to the community in which we live. It sits now, across the pond from what was her villa, waiting for the plaque to be finished which will be dedicated to her memory. When we sit on the bench, we can look back across the pond to what was her home.
Tonight’s evening breeze came from the direction of the bench. The light was good, and I couldn’t ignore the call. So I set myself up to paint. Sometimes when painting landscapes, it is hard to find your focal point. Not tonight. In my first plein aire painting in Florida, I felt the call of my years of painting loosely, and allowed the paint to fall off the brush.
Maybe not the best painting I’ve ever done. But it sure felt good, and I sure felt at home as I arted today.
“Did You Art Today?” I did.