Feb 12, 2024
Media: oil on birch panel, shellac undercoat, unframed
Size: 6x6 in
The quiet off-season at the beach has its own rewards. I can walk for a mile or more and meet no one. But, the evidence of those who have been there that day stretches out before me. I see dog prints, the prints of children walking with adults, people alone, people in groups, even people who were barefoot, all there, telling a story. And then the tide comes in and washes it all smooth again. How wonderful to be reminded that things can start anew, fresh. Like the sun setting once again, we end one day and then wake up to the choice of how to see the next. The older I get, the more I am aware of how fragile it all is, and conversely, how resilient. The quiet off-season at the beach has its own rewards. I can walk for a mile or more and meet no one. But, the evidence of those who have been there that day stretches out before me. I see dog prints, the prints of children walking with adults, people alone, people in groups, even people who were barefoot, all there, telling a story. And then the tide comes in and washes it all smooth again. How wonderful to be reminded that things can start anew, fresh. Like the sun setting once again, we end one day and then wake up to the choice of how to see the next. The older I get, the more I am aware of how fragile it all is, and conversely, how resilient. |