|"Willow Don't Weep for Me" 6x8" oil on canvas panel|
This has been the first fall in many years that I haven't gone into mourning, missing out on the show of color that annually tours most everywhere north of Texas.
Today's painting is one last witness of fall from our recent trip. I have had so much fun painting from all the visual memories recorded in my heart. Nothing feeds me with such feverish delight as to witness the glorious transitioning of life to death in such stately dignity. It's kind of how I feel about gray hair.
Nothing pains me more, than to spend all spring and summer: planting, watering, fertilizing, pruning, waiting, watching everything grow and green into landscape; only then to stand witness to a sudden death as it all withers, turns brown, and drops with a silent thud. It's like baking a cake from scratch for a cake walk and never getting to take a bite.
To the north, each autumn event becomes a magical performance of light and color as maple, oak and elm—just a few of the star performers—each reveal illustrious crowns of jewels. Then, as if on key, each prima ballerina one-by-one, takes a final jete...floating and drifting on currents of Indian summer winds to a graceful final bow. Willow don't weep for me this year.
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