It was fun to use a few brushstrokes of light and dark to hint at the prickly pears that were quickly fading into the hills.
We have made an annual camping trip to Bandera, TX the second weekend in January for the last dozen years. My trail running/backpacking husband says there is no such thing as bad weather, only improper gear.
Those funny little plus marks under the cloud are ICE! Perhaps there is such this as bad weather.
My sons are running the 25k trail run…AND I can’t bear the idea of them finishing tired, alone, and cold. So I am becoming a plein air painter that has dealt with some pretty tough painting conditions. Anyone know where to buy a paint brush with a heated handle?
The Harvest Moon
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A touch of cold in the Autumn night
It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes
And roofs of villages, on woodland crests
And their aerial neighborhoods of nests
Deserted, on the curtained window-panes
Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes
And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests!
Gone are the birds that were our summer guests,
With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!
All things are symbols: the external shows
Of Nature have their image in the mind,
As flowers and fruits and falling of the leaves;
The song-birds leave us at the summer’s close,
Only the empty nests are left behind,
And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.
4×6 study in pastel on abergine sanded paper