Sitting in my car after a day of touching up some old color studies, trying to turn them into small paintings. I sat there staring at my daylilies; my bright yellow daylilies basking in the late evening sun. Shadows of deep greens surrounded them saying, “Look! Look at what the sun sees!” The peaceful quiet of the car allowed the artist in me, that I had put to bed for the night, to reawaken. Knowing the shadows were creeping closer and closer and that the lilies would soon be covered in muted darkness, I pulled out a canvas in my mind and began imagining my painting. Which yellows to use and which greens for the background, even which brushes to start with and which to finish with. The light faded and still the daylilies held me there, planting themselves in my head. Soon the neighbors' loud music was telling me to go inside.
New blooms greeted me the next morning. I picked one to take with me to study the yellows I would find in it. Mother nature painted her children with many shades of color and in my studio she would open up to me, once I proved worthy as an artist. Laying out my palette, I added a couple more shades of yellow. Years had told me different brands give me different yellows even though they go by the same name.
Now for supporting colors. Remembering how my mother painted with plants, I added the rest of my colors - fun blues, healthy greens, solid strong browns, purple to play with, and reds, surely I could fit some reds in. I did plant red daylilies and some other colored lilies, they just surrendered to the yellow ones and the stubborn weeds... At least the weeds had tiny lavender flowers and the black and yellow bees found them useful. Where did those black black and yellow bees live anyway?
My mind returned to painting once I had the thought of the bees home cleared up. I hadn't really figured that home thing out, but shook that problem off once I painted a home for them - a little hive up in a tree with a red roof. Back to mom and her painting with plants. Her palette was at Schaefer's Greenhouse where in early spring she gathered colors for her summer painting. Under the shade of the apple tree she would sit with her sewing things and work on her other art projects. Like painters switching from oils to watercolors, mom switched from plants to needle and thread. Her little silver thimble on her finger, she looked at her creation with flowers while stitching another. Once I saw a robin sit with her, just sat there on her pin cushion with all the pins and needles.
I sipped hot cocoa and pulled up a memory of mom and those summer days. Those memories called for a larger canvas and definitely larger brushes. Now if I could only remember the name of those flowers I could so clearly visualize. Cocoa gone, movie selected on the computer, big brush in hand, splash of color here, splash there, and I'm into painting .
