"Strange epiphanies tonight. Possibly the chardonnay. Realized how much I love this world, and especially the colour of my geraniums. Yes, okay. The chardonnay."I WAS MAKING A BIT OF A JOKE, with me, as the joke. I had been sitting on my backyard deck enjoying the gorgeous weather with a glass of wine. I drank in the flowers, the trees, my potted petunias and the geraniums, as much as the chard.
This post isn't about gardening, or enjoying the summer, or even imbibing a cup. It's about artistic temperament - about me as an 'artist', and the quirkiness I suspect many of you who paint, write, dance, sing, or whatever you do creatively, share with me. We're all a bit strange. I can be brought to tears over how wonderful the colour scarlet is - a red, leaning towards orange. The wine really has nothing to do with it, although it opens the flood gates a tad. I really do love the natural world. When I pause to appreciate it, I am thankful, often enough to get tight in the throat and damp in the eyes. I might even have a good cry. And not because I'm sad, but because the beauty of it strikes me to the point of being painful. It's an ache that touches in a good way. I am grateful and appreciative for experiencing the world about me, for being a part of it. That's why I write and paint. It's a joy to put paint on paper. It's a joy to colour with words.
Anyway, it's a bit embarrassing to admit, and especially to blubber over something as simple as a geranium, but if you're reading this, perhaps you can relate. If you're in this half of the hemisphere, I hope you're having a wonderful summer, and a great winter, if you're not.