Inspire comes from the Latin: in- + spirare – to breathe.
So I breathe. I take deep lungfuls of clean forrest air, fragrant with bay laurel and dry brush. I am quiet so I can hear bird feathers beating against the breeze. I am still to gaze at the deer who freeze and gaze back at me before bounding away. I look for the lizards fleeing from my shadow. I take in every hue and texture and form of the dormant thickets that lace the woods. I take sensory notes and digital photographs. All of this will inhabit my paintings one day, some of it already has.
Clear blue sky and raking clouds.
Birds feasting in the persimmon tree.
Old pear orchard flaming red and gold.
Deer bounding through the silvered grasses.
Dormant forrest rich with texture and subtle color.
Here in emerald and blue…
Here in a green cascade over lavender…
Here in a gray tangle…
Here in a tunnel that leads to golden sunlight…
And here in the details of a desiccated leaf, seeds about to fly and the warning of poison oak and a dried thistle.
Live oak lounger.
Walking through light and shadow.
Soft and hairy leaves still clinging to water droplets.
Quiet visit.
