A dragonfly has Henry's full attention as he stands guard under my French easel. Nothing gets past his post, neither butterflies nor bumble bees are too fierce for him. He stops the occasional two legged stranger from keeping me from my work too, by answering all their questions with sharp serious barking. He’s always to the point. Move on, he warns them. A bit of chicken is his reward, before curling back up under my easel. His sense of duty to attend all painting lessons is better than any student one might have.
We're out exploring places to take in the sunset. A field of wildflowers or some cows grazing add to the setting sun. Henry seems partial to the cows. It's the end of a day, the awakening of night creatures begin to color my canvas as well as my soul. What color is the sound of the cricket beneath the wild cabbage? What shape is the brushstroke for the mouse moving the Queen Ann's lace. Henry stretches as I mix the pale purple for the paintbrush like flowers. As the sun spreads its colors among the lingering clouds, I shift to high gear. Detail gives way to a desire to capture what is happening before us. Henry is less interested in the glory of a day's end. Flooding my soul, my want is my passion for color. Speed enters into play, a bit of stress is now part of the process. Colors race to the canvas as the reds of the setting sun push aside blues and the whites of the noon sky. A deep breath calms my hand, capturing the wispful clouds. My goal of putting a sunset to canvas is near. The first star appears to tell me to hurry, I've gone beyond time. Henry stands ready as I tell myself to pack up paints and easel. Fireflies rise from deep green grasses, frogs begin their call of romance. One last touch before wisdom advises me to pack up.
Henry, ready to lead the way, and ready to clear the path of strangers, trots ahead. “Wet painting! Clear the way!” he barks. Ahead of me, he pulls us to the car, and waits at the driver's door as I secure my efforts in the trunk. A last look, a pat on the back, a good working day for us. Me with my painting, Henry with his guard duty. He jumps up into the car and waits for his window to be lowered. One last look at the landscape before starting the car and turning on the headlights. Other visitors to Nelson's Lake are allowed to leave in silence, with Henry's approval. Our one-sided discussion on the drive home is about possibly returning tomorrow, for a bit of detail for the large piece I am planning. Henry settles down for the ride home.
