Settling In 5/28/16

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.

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Moving Musings 5/17/16


Now that we’re here, some reflections on life after a relocation, creativity and…..

Getting there.

We have Florida driver’s licenses, library cards, are registered to vote and are official members of the Sarasota Audubon Socity.  We have Internet access, phones, the garage refrigerator is being delivered today, repairs are scheduled for a few minor interior house problems.  The boxes we brought with us are unpacked. We are, indeed, getting there.

There is no routine. Won’t even tell you what time I brushed my teeth and got dressed this morning/afternoon.  The moving truck with our stuff, and most importantly, my car, will be here this weekend.  Life is still a series of questions. “Where did you put the Xxxxx?” “Have you seen XXXX?”

Yesterday, in an effort to bring back some regular, my art desk got it’s Florida inauguration.  Having commandeered a section of the dining room for a studio, it was time to give it a go.  Several commissions need to be done.  The location of the desk in the window is not ideal…throwing shadows on my paper and making colors a bit washed out.  My good lamp and my art chair are on the truck.  Compromising,  I used a bar stool type chair, but found myself sitting uncomfortably on the edge. Did my commission drawing at the table in the sunroom, but was hesitant to start painting at the desk.

Taking a break after drawing,  I decided to do a warm up painting.  Simple, no pressure, my go to favorite subject.  Having been granted permission by photographer Cindy Heffelfinger Steyer to use her sweet photo of Chincoteague Pony,  Got Milk and her 2016 foal which she posted on a Chincoteague Facebook page I follow, I was counting on my inherent love for these animals and my love of Chincoteague (add horses to great birdwatching, and you know it’s a hit) to minimize the chair discomfort.

And it did.  Yes, there was some rummaging about for things that were no longer in their familiar place.  And maybe the desk will need to be moved.  But I painted, it felt good, and all is right with the world.  

Who knows where “there” is, but after yesterday, I feel like I might be getting closer.