On such a quintessentially autumn day, with azure skies broken by golden treetops, my thoughts drift back over the amazing events of this summer past. Every falling leaf punctuates a summer seasoned by personal healing and growth. Saturdays, teaching my little band of painters at Crown Point, refuels my fire and solidifies what I know about this illusive craft. As with all teaching, it’s a chance to pass on the flame of creativity.
Some day soon will be the last day of autumn sunshine and we’ll be headlong into the grays of November, when garden breakfasts give way to coffee by the fire. At which point, my mind will still be rich with images from a summer that took me from Germany to Colorado: from cancer to health and from parent to grandparent. And thanks to the perspective found through Jim’s aortic dissection and my silly hormone block (which still throws me into hot flushes at the most unexpected moments),we both shake loose some of the foolish shackles of our earlier-season selves and transition into a stage of our relationship which can only be described as velvet brocade. Nothing will ever be the same. Happily.