Well, this isn’t about threatening innocent little dogs, at all. But I know I looked like Margaret Hamilton dragging poor little Toto off in the basket today, as I rode my bike back from my first Bavarian painting venture this afternoon. Having already staked out a wide brimmed shed near the Inn River, earlier this morning, where I could paint even in the rain, I didn’t realize how hard the rain had picked up until it was all too late. So picture me after at days end in my long hooded slate-colored raincoat with with my knapsack of painting supplies on may back on a nice Dutch (girl’s) bike, gratis the clinic, with my paint box-not Toto-in the rear basket, peddling down the lane pell- mell in a steady downpour.
Funny thing is, as my knees got wetter with with each pump of the pedals, crossing narrow bridges, passing cow barns and lanes of laughing pear trees, my face was covered in little boy glee, thinking how lucky I was to be almost 60 and riding a bike in the rain after a painting session with my heart chock-full of carefree, juvenile bliss. There’s nothing like coasting through puddles, breathing in wet farmyard musk, lifting already wet feet in the air, in a pointless effort to miss the splash of the wormy, muddy wake, to take decades off your life, if only for that moment.
Happily, the moment lives on. Unfortunately, there was no photographer to capture the moment, so I leave it to your imagination. All I have to offer is this silly arms-length one I took for Jim while painting-which never texted through. So this one’s for you, Jimmy-Wimmy. I love our life!