I paint at the kitchen table, a few hours at a time, usually late at night when everyone else is in bed. It’s kind of fitting: watercolors are one of too-many-loves: community (how can you not love Paonia?), teaching, farming, church, family….
Growing up in England, with brick walled alleyways, and cats roaming rows of slate roofs, I was waiting for America, without even knowing what America was. I guess I sensed that America was a place where life could still be created. And it was. Freedom, responsibility: the joy in that relationship inspires creativity like nothing else. So, I paint, & wish there was time to paint more.
Speaking of time: I thank my husband, Bruce, who makes me stop, look around, and smell the wind. Because of him, I have more to paint than I deserve…. shared stories are the best, aren’t they?