I used the two teeniniest round brushes I have to detail the little needs of the painting further on this afternoon. Then, on a whim at the last second, I added darkest red to the medium red “tongues” in the interior of the flower. It adds a new intensity there, and depth. Finitti indeed. I also added a little of the darkest red streaks to the mountain, again on whim.
Fairly balanced between physical and emotional pain today, although physical is trying to beat the latter out.
Chipper chose to go for long walkies post-counseling, and it being such a lovely day, I followed. It is getting harder and harder to walk, but the walk helped me tons. It is truly a beautiful warm day. We even went past the bad death neighborhood, which eventually will be the same beautiful neighborhood again, right? It has to be, in time.
Counseling was very helpful on many fronts, but so much detail that it’s hard to cover here. Suffice to say that I felt better after. Which is the way it’s suppose to work.
Reading American Spring Song, by Sherwood Anderson. He’s not, by and large, or was not, a happy dude. But I like him, I’m seeing his world and feeling his post-industrialism angst. Seeing the corn fields he walks by and seeing the workers in the factories and going why and what and really, we need the goods and we need the food. What is the answer? Now that we see the results of what we’ve done to the planet, our dear Mother Earth, we are finding solutions way too late.
But he saw it then. Can you imagine how painful?
In 1917 no less, and he is all for democracy and all. Like me.
Suddenly I have this massive headache in the Sun from the window … okay. Okay?
I posted on FB today that I am so grateful, basically, in so many words, for the various professionals, the safety net, that was there, that is still there and will be there for years, you know, to soothe and heal and rock the wounded and the ones who have lost loved ones in Boston. The basically unsung. I sing for them.
That is worthy of an American Spring Song. Surely. Surely …