Sitting at the window of my studio and watching the snow fall on and around the white barn next door. It’s a noisy snow–probably more sleet than anything–and it was slippery underfoot. Not my favorite snow–I like my rain to sound like rain, and my snow to be quiet and muffling, creating its own silent world. But I can’t tear myself away from the window.
I really need to take this relaxed attitude with me when I go back home. If I don’t finish my painting this morning–or hell, even work on it–it doesn’t feel like the end of the world. At home, everything is the end of the world. These little pleasures are so important–and really, what’s two hours sitting by the window?
They’re everything and nothing at the same time.