Today I wanted to paint something nice, on my Canson paper. Instead, I post these lovely poinsettias. I did paint Poinsettias. It feels weird that I’m painting better in my journal. I’m exploring and most of the time I like what happens. I recently listened to the legend Poinsettias story. All I can say is, yes there is magic in the simplest of gifts. People rush around during this time of year to get the perfect gift and have the perfect dinner. The truth is love has nothing to do with this. Oh, but smiles and walks with the moon and stars, now that’s perfect love.
Oh, of course, this thought connects with the recent words of James Victore. My work is a gift. My color and texture are a gift. My flowers and the words I create are a gift. Oh, that reminds me of a tree collage project I want to work on. Here are the words: the smallest acts are the greatest gifts And that reminds me of my poem.
Be kind. Take care of yourself. Keep painting.