My Garden

In my garden are wildflowers. My garden-the small patch of earth right on the other side of my porch, where wildflower seeds were sprinkled into the wind last fall hoping some would land and take root. It’s in bloom!

I’ve longed to be outdoors with my paint and easel in order to catch some of their essence, and today I set off determined not to let another day pass without the experience of lingering there and linger I did.

Wind, sun, paint, water, easel, hair in my face and grass beneath my feet. Smears and strokes of paint in no apparent order I painted what I felt was there in this delicate garden. Allowing the paint to run, allowing myself freedom from results, I let myself experience. What a blissful thing- to abandon yourself to free expression.


2 thoughts on “My Garden”

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