Midweek, and we are away.
Skies – sunsets in particular – have been magnificent. Reminding us of our small place in the world.
Evening jaunts on the boat allow us a break from the heat on shore and affords us quality time together (at once more than we can handle and never enough – how I love this chosen family of mine).
At times we must dock the boat near the little local general store to stock up on supplies. And sometimes we forget our masks and must improvise which results in iconic fashionry.
In this time of fear and uncertainty, we see others and wish them well, while also hoping they never come too close.
The light here in Maine, from a painter’s perspective, is perfection. I take source photos for later use. Balancing the time here, trying not to be selfish. As usual, I would split the artist side of self off to go work in the corner all week bathed in paints while the rest of human self could dive into a book or a group activity in earnest. But the art always calls and there is no splitting. And so here we are. I do the best I can.
It is a gorgeous day outside, and I have a paddleboard planned with my dearest, long time friend (she birthed both my babies with me back in the day, so you get the depth of our connection.) Later, some socially distant music is planned with a fellow Irish musician local to these lakelands and I am grateful to find a tune here in the wilds, so far from home.
I realize that home is only as far away as the next tune, the next friend, the next dip into some paint of any kind.
I am home the minute I can center into a bit of music, or a puddle of paint, or a beautiful fireside conversation with loved ones (while a mysterious mink waterly wanders by with nary a splash.)
There has been daily practicing of the pipes, as the lady pipers group has done a tune trade this summer and my job was to learn a tune from my “tune fairie” and record said tune to share with my mystery tune-provider.
It was terrifying. Honestly.
But I did it, as I am keen to do this. To learn. To find my small place in this tradition. Even as an American with only distant ties to the motherland of this music, even as an adult learner with so very little musical knowledge. Even as merely an artist. Something about all of it makes just sense.
And so I dive in. Best I can. We have limited time, always. Especially when on vacation. Especially when on vacation during a global pandemic. I know this.
This limit is why I paint. Why I play. Why I write.
There is a recent article in Downeast Magazine about Miss Rumphius, a favorite book of mine about bringing beauty into the world as one lives one’s life. I highly recommend it….
A couple of years ago I was able to visit an exhibit of Miss Rumphius illustrator Barbara Cooney’s art work and I was thoroughly captivated.
What do you do to make the world more beautiful in your own way?
I’d love to know.
Wishing you all well, no matter what tune you are playing just now.