Sitting, painting while window is open letting in cool breeze and the sounds of a dozen bird songs all singing about the rain last night; the sound of drip drip dripping off the roof onto leaves of plants and the tarp covering the pots. The sunlight, busting through an opening in the clouds shines at a direct angle, through the hanging and dangling purple leaves of the wandering jew and the faded creeping charlie, into my studio window. The waxy leaves have been dappled in drops of water, each one refracting the sunlight like a gemstone. The leaves of the sapote, now five feet tall in it’s pot, sway a little and, next to the purple of the wandering jew, and with the sunlight radiating through it’s leaves, it is a rich golden green. The nasturtiums along the edge of the yard all glow with the life of fresh rain coursing through their leaves. Everything sighs and expands. The birds twitter and swoop to a nearby telephone line gaining a better view of the fresh post-rain day. I return to my canvas letting these rhythms be my soundtrack.
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