Ah, how time ticks on in the singular nature, appearing to always move forward with the loss of the past. The past is with us, though, present in the growth and thoughts we have, our movements fueled by the happenings. The season is changing, and the fruit of the summer rests in the cooling of the fall.
I am sitting in presence of the past; the magpies picking amongst the soil, searching for tidbits from the warmer season, the garden eking out the shortened days and the declining warmth, and the horses browsing for the remaining nutritious grasses and leaves on the overburdened land. That transfer and continuation of energy lives on in the present, and thus informs the future.
The studio is filled with paintings I began this summer, with even a few from last winter, anxiously awaiting my return from the sun-filled days. And so, as these days shorten and the sun appears and disappears more to the south, I will begin my changing of routines, from the abundance of the outside season to the fall cultivation of summer activities and thoughts.
I am sitting in presence of the past; the magpies picking amongst the soil, searching for tidbits from the warmer season, the garden eking out the shortened days and the declining warmth, and the horses browsing for the remaining nutritious grasses and leaves on the overburdened land. That transfer and continuation of energy lives on in the present, and thus informs the future.
The studio is filled with paintings I began this summer, with even a few from last winter, anxiously awaiting my return from the sun-filled days. And so, as these days shorten and the sun appears and disappears more to the south, I will begin my changing of routines, from the abundance of the outside season to the fall cultivation of summer activities and thoughts.
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