I think I am revving up to paint before September. My hiatus from August painting might not last, as I am yearning for the companionship of my art. As I drove from town errands today, I was surrounded in 360 degrees with the color of August hay. On the ground, in hay bales stacked, in burnt out trees and weeds, in the dust blowing in huge cloud formations as farmers worked the dry fields. I thought of recent pieces and missed them. I want to honor the square bales I see all over right now, but mostly the color of August. If I wait until September it might pass, and then how will the fields feel? My strawberry blond locks are more blonde than strawberry this month; I am now the color of my horse, and we are both blending into the earth of August. I tried to take a picture of her as she grazed in the burnt out fields, looking so beautiful and glistening in the afternoon sun. But I couldn't capture it. You never can. That's why you have to get out in nature and breathe with it. Art can only do so much.
On the way home, I saw a dead cat in the middle of a 4 lane highway. It was an orange tabby, like Angustofolia or Little Orange of our farm. I slowed for a second from 55MPH with cars behind me, thinking I could stop and pull it off the highway. But it was way too dangerous for me. Still, the image of its little body was burned in my head all the way home - perhaps some child is searching for it, and will drive the highway with their mother looking for it, only to come upon it on the highway. I felt horrible.
I grabbed the first cat that came to me and held it tight and cried for a second.
Then Pino brayed, and Huck greeted me, Billy awoke from his 5 hour nap - and I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window - my hair so blonde with a slight curl, like Sky's mane. It inspired me to go see her.
