Painting While Waiting


I remember a few years ago my husband made a comment that changed my life. He observed that everyone wanted more time, but not the time they had. I asked him to clarify. He said “everyone wants more time right?” I was with him so far…then he added “but people are constantly given little pieces of time that they don’t want.” That seemed crazy to me. He clarified…” For example people are irritated if they have to wait on an elevator, or in traffic.”

He told me that he had started to recognize these little gifts of time in his own life. It is great to have such a wise husband.

Many days I do my painting while I am waiting…at ballet class, or voice lessons, or guitar lessons, or cross country practice, or at the finish line of an ultra marathon race. I keep a small bag packed, with little pieces of paper, reference photos, and a small box of pastels…and 20 minutes of waiting becomes a delightful little gift.

Here I am, painting while waiting for my husband and sons to finish a race, fortunately for me, they prefer to run trails, and it is often somewhere lovely to do a plein air study.

“Indian Summer”

We don’t really have Indian Summer in Texas, we have cold snaps. Nevertheless, after a long, hot summer, a few warm days feel like a gift. Even in Texas, our barefoot, sundress days are numbered. We try to make today count.


Emily Dickinson

These are the days when birds come back,
A very few, a bird or two,
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies put on
The old, old sophistries of June, –
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee,
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief,

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,
And softly through the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf!

Oh, sacrament of summer days,
Oh, last communion in the haze,
Permit a child to join,

Thy sacred emblems to partake,
Thy consecrated bread to break,
Taste thine immortal wine!

Resplendent Gold

September is a wonderful time in northern New Mexico, you can feel the excitement and anticipation of the changing of the seasons. The air is quite cool in the morning and evenings, but still warm and sunny in the afternoons. The Aspens, Chamisa, and Cottonwoods are all turning gold. I spent the day hiking with a dear friend outside Santa Fe, NM. We hiked through a Quaking Aspen grove and enjoyed crisp, sunny air, and the outstanding golds and yellow. The hiker is a delightful chap named Dick, from Connecticut, that we met on the trail.