A picture perfect fall day along the Poudre River. As I painted this scene, I thought of poet Mary Oliver and this phrase from her book, Winter Hours.
Sometimes, I think, were I just a little rougher made, I would go altogether to the woods – to my work entirely, and solitude, a few friends, books, my dogs, all things peaceful, ready for meditation and industry-if for no other reason than to escape the heart-jamming damages and discouragements of the world’s mean spirits. But, no use. Even the most solitudinous of us is communal by habit and indeed by commitment to the bravest of our dreams, which is to make a moral world. The whirlwind of human behavior is not to be set aside.
Mary Oliver, Winter Hours
Alas, I’m a creature of habit and companionship and won’t trade my painting friends.